I played my heart and soul. It was not just sadness. It was hope. It was devotion. It was a plea for her to open up. It was love.

I could not hear her. I could only hear the music in my ears. And my desire to be with her. My sweet Marguerite.

As my fingers glided across the keys, banging their thirst into the rich euphoric melody, a sudden rap on the door startled me into utter silence. The tempered tick of the metronome filled the gap before the second knock.

“Pierre, let me in! It’s Marguerite!”

I carefully shuffled to the door, slowly opening it to what I presumed was that beautiful girl. “Are you going to attack me like you did last time?” I questioned with a well attempted smirk on my face.

“I’m not planning on it.” she said curtly, draining the anticipation from my body. “I was hoping to make music with you.”

A new joy swept through me. She had found my secret weakness.

“Come in,” I said as I invited her in. Trying to reach past her body to close the door, my arm brushed up against wet skin.