Play Me, I'm Yours [Library Edition] (27 page)

Zach’s expression turned serious. He grabbed Lucas’s hand and brought it to his lips, where he placed a soft kiss on his knuckles. “It’s true. And I love every one of those things about you.”

He wasn’t used to this kind of overt flattery. He didn’t know how to respond. “Thank you” seemed like a silly thing to say, but he
was
thankful.

“I was going to give you this after the show,” Zach said, pulling an envelope out of the glove box. “But I want you to have it now instead. For luck.”

“For me?”

“Open it.”

He slid the card out of the envelope. On the front was a watercolor of a boy seated at a baby grand piano, his fingers positioned gracefully on the keys. The heart-shaped piano lid, propped open wide, poured out undulating waves of multicolored music. It was exquisite. When he opened the card, he found a poem handwritten on the left, and a note on the right. He read the note first.

Dear Lucas,

This was the poem I originally wrote for our English assignment. I didn’t have the courage to give it to you at the time, but even then I knew you were someone special to me. Regardless of tonight’s outcome, you will always be the “most talented” in my book. Whether you play one of Beethoven’s sonatas or one of Weird Al’s polkas, I know it will come from a place of love. Thank you for sharing your music with me, but of all the gifts you have to give, I treasure your heart the most.

Love,

Zach

Then, with teary eyes, he read Zach’s poem.

L
ips I ache to press to mine

U
ntil the morning hour

C
ome with me

A
cross that line

S
urrender to love’s power

“It’s so beautiful,” he managed to choke out, his eyes filled with tears. “Thank you.”

Zach reached for him, and Lucas melted into his embrace. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it. I love you.” He hadn’t wanted to be the first to say it, but the words came to life on their own.

“I love you too,” Zach said, pulling him into a hug.

W
HEN
they arrived at the school, Lucas found his dad waiting for him near the entrance. He said he’d told the others to go inside without him. He wanted to stay behind and talk to Lucas.

Lucas didn’t like the sound of that. His dad’s expression was serious. Would he discourage Lucas from seeing Zach or reprimand him for the public displays of affection?

Zach gave his hand a squeeze and then went in to find Mason and his mom.

His dad cleared his throat. “Lucas… seeing you with Zach tonight made me think about some things—things I’m not very proud of.”

Lucas swallowed. Was he going to tell him he no longer condoned him being gay?

“I know this isn’t the best time or place for this… but I want to tell you that I’m sorry.”

Sorry? He couldn’t remember his dad ever having apologized to him before.

“I haven’t always supported your music.” His dad took a breath. “I’ve
never
supported your music. I’m sorry, son.”

Lucas briefly wondered if Mason’s comment had brought this on.

“When you were younger, it was clear to your mother and me that you were… different. And I guess I was afraid of encouraging you to do things that I thought would….” His dad struggled to say the words.

“Make me gay?”

He nodded. “Some of the things you did or said, they made me question whether you might be, but you were just a kid. I thought maybe you were just odd. The piano playing—you were so… excuse the word… flamboyant. Sometimes I wonder… if I hadn’t allowed you to play, would you still have turned out to be gay?”

Lucas felt the lump in his throat rise. “There’s nothing you could do to make me any more or less gay, Dad. It’s who I am.”

“It’s not who you are. It’s part of who you are, but it’s not who you are. You’re so much more than just that, and I’m proud of you. All of you.”

His dad had never uttered those words to him before. It was all he’d wanted to hear for so long. Lucas flung himself forward and into a hug. After a few moments, he pulled back. “What does this have to do with Zach?”

“Your music—it’s always been very special to you, in a way that I could never understand. When you play, it’s so obvious what a—” His dad’s voice caught in his throat. “—caring and sensitive young man you are.” He placed a hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “I never should have been embarrassed to let other people see that or worried about what they would think. When Zach looks at you, it’s clear that he adores you for all of those things. It made me realize just how much I’d let you down.”

Lucas was crying openly now. His dad’s words had hurt, but they were also a comfort.

“Now you go in there,” his dad said, “and play me a memory.”

T
RISH
was waiting for him backstage. “Jesus, Lucas. You look like you’ve been through the wringer. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he sniffled. “Just a little emotional right now.”

“Aww, cheer up, Boo. You’re gonna make me cry. How am I supposed to sing Massive Attack if I’m blubbering?”

“That song alone makes me cry,” he said. “It’s gonna be an exhausting night.”

Trish squeezed him into a hug. “You’re gonna be great. Have you seen the program? Seeing your name in print will cheer you up. Have a look.”

Lucas chuckled as she shoved a program into his hands. He flipped it open to find their names among the list of performers. “Trish Williams performs ‘What Your Soul Sings’ by Massive Attack. Accompanied on piano by Lucas Tate.”

“You’re a genius for adapting it to the piano. I know that wasn’t easy.”

Lucas shrugged. “You’re the one who has to sing it. Now
that’s
not easy.”

He scrolled down further to find his solo performance listed. “Lucas Tate performs Beethoven’s Sonata
Pathétique
No. 8 in C minor op. 13.”

“It sounds so fancy,” she said. “How are the rest of us supposed to compete with that?”

“I don’t know,” he said, playfully. “And if I make a mistake, I bet no one will even know it.”

“Lucas Tate, you sound almost as conceited as I do.”

“Rubbing off on me, I guess.”

“And to think, we didn’t even know each other a couple months ago.”

It was hard to believe. She’d become such a good friend to him in such a short time, it felt like they’d known each other for years. “I’m glad we’re friends,” he told her.

“I knew from the minute I first heard you play, you were someone special. I love you, Boo.”

“I love you too.” Lucas smiled. There was a lot of love going around tonight.

They sat together and waited for their turn to perform. Trish was beautiful when she sang. She lit up the stage, and the audience loved her. Once they were done, she pulled him offstage and squeezed him into a tight hug.

Then their phones buzzed in unison.

Zach:
you were great :-)

Lucas:
thx

Zach:
encore at my place?

Lucas:
you don’t have a piano

Zach:
i’ll let you play my toes

Lucas:
haha

Zach:
or other body parts…

Lucas:
!!!

Zach:
good luck with your solo

“Alex just texted me,” Trish said. “He’s so sweet.”

Lucas felt his phone buzz again.

Alex:
dude, you rocked

Lucas:
thx :-)

Alex:
we gave you a standing O

Lucas:
we?

Alex:
im sitting with ur pecker partner

Lucas:
zach?

Alex:
and mason. he says to tell u ur a dork

Lucas:
tell him i love him too

Alex:
i did. u should see his face, lol

Lucas:
i can imagine

Alex:
good luck with ur solo

Lucas:
thx

Alex:
xoxo

Lucas:
<3

Moments later Donovan appeared. He’d somehow snuck backstage. Lucas grabbed hold of Trish’s arm, a sudden feeling of panic setting in. “Relax, Boo. It looks like he’s come bearing gifts.”

Donovan held out a bouquet of red roses for Trish. “You were fabulous, T.”

She eyed him warily. “Thank you.”

He plucked one of the long-stemmed flowers from the bouquet and handed it to Lucas. “You were good too, Lucas.”

It wasn’t said with a smile, but his expression appeared remorseful. And he hadn’t used any of his stupid nicknames. It was a start.

Donovan looked back to Trish. “Can we talk?”

She looked to Lucas as if asking permission.

“Go ahead,” Lucas said. “I could use some alone time to mentally prep for my solo.”

“Good luck, Boo,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.

As he sat and thought about the events of the day, the past few weeks—heck, his whole life, really—he knew he didn’t want to play the
Pathétique.
As hauntingly beautiful as it was, as much as it enabled him to show off his technical prowess, he was in the mood for a different sort of melody. When it was time, he quietly took his place on the piano bench and waited for the crowd to still.

“I’d like to dedicate this performance to my family and friends.” His dad had asked Lucas, for the first time, to play him a memory. This was the memory he wanted to share. The memory of this day, when he had come to realize how much he was loved by the people who were close to him. He quietly thanked Cyndi too as he played the opening notes of one of her most famous and most beautiful songs, “True Colors.” It was a song that celebrated those people in his life who loved him just the way he was, the people who thought his true colors were beautiful, like a rainbow. While his fingers danced through the melody, he hoped they all knew how much he loved them too.

About the Author

M
ADISON
P
ARKER
grew up in Germany where she feasted on Gummibärchen, wandered through the woods on many a Volksmarch, and dreamed of one day living in a castle on a mountain with a boy who knew how to rock a pair of lederhosen. The Fates had other plans for her, but she’s not complaining. Although she aspired to be an author at an early age and often wrote for fun, she pursued a career in teaching instead. Madison has a bachelor’s degree and two master’s degrees in mathematics and education and has taught both middle and high school. She began writing LGBTQ fiction to help address issues of bullying and low self-esteem among young adults.

Madison has a passion for math and art, and likes to dabble a bit with web and graphic design. She also has an affinity for all things geeky (read: Star Trek and TRON). Although she is extremely left-brained (logical, rational, orderly), her artistic, creative side never ceases to flail around in a desperate attempt to be noticed. Madison now spends her days reading, writing, solving math problems, and playing with her feisty German Pinscher. She lives in North Carolina with her husband, her pup, and her troop of sock monkeys.

Madison loves to connect with readers. Find her online here:

Website: http://madisonparklove.com

E-mail: [email protected]

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