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"music is powerful - as people listen to it, they can be affected; they respond"

"Don't worry, we're here to learn, and making mistakes is all part of the process," he says with a playful glint in his eyes. It sort of makes her stomach turn. In a good way. "It's how we improve."

His reassurance soothes her bubbling nerves, and she can't help but smile back. His belief in her is a source of motivation, spurring her to push forward even when things get challenging. That's how she's been operating this past month, at least.

She takes a deep breath, ready to tackle this new concept head-on. Her eyes lock back on the piece of paper in front of her, on which he has scribbled a bunch of things about the different dynamics.

As he explains it further, she listens with rapt attention. She feels a mixture of curiosity and determination. He uses an analogy of adding a new dimension to her playing that resonates with her-it's like unlocking a secret door to a world of emotions within the music. It excites her, makes her smilem

The symbols on the paper slowly become more than just markings; they're keys to a treasure trove of expression. Or at least, that's how he explains it - that's how she understands it.

"Forte, like a burst of energy," she repeats after him softly, her fingers tracing the letters on the wrinkled paper. "And piano, like a shared secret." The imagery he paints with his words makes the concept more tangible, and she can already feel the puzzle pieces clicking into place.

It was scary when he started speaking at first, but now that he's simplified it, she feels like she could get the hang of this. Her eyes fly over the keys, her brain recalling the notes that he has already taught her thus far.

Right now, she feels way better than she did when she first started in June. She even managed to arrive to practice early today, which surprised her tutor.

His hand resting on her shoulder is a reassuring weight today, grounding her as she absorbs the information. She meets his gaze slightly, the warmth in his eyes giving her the confidence she needs. She nods in understanding as he continues, his guidance clear and encouraging.

"Mezzo-forte and mezzo-piano," she echoes, her voice a blend of curiosity and determination. The idea of using different shades of colour to express emotions within her playing resonates deeply.

Colouring the picture, he said. Adding depth, he said. But the more he speaks, the less she starts to hear. The more she pays attention to the form of his lips with every word he says...

"You ready to give it a go?" he asks, smiling at her. That warm smile that manages to spread even more uneasy feelings throughout her stomach. Must be the day old pasta she had for lunch.

She tucks her loose hair behind her ear, biting her lip to force herself to concentrate. She nods, something that has become a habit in her tutor's presence.

She watches his fingers hover over the keys, eager to put his words into action. Does he intend to demonstrate first, then allow her to play? Her eyes look at his long fingers, the skin of which she knows is soft and pure. Without another thought, her eyes travel up to his lower arm, where a collection of bracelets rest.

"Watch me," he says softly, before his fingers begin dancing over the keys, bringing her out of her little trance.

With a small frown on her face, Melody forces herself to focus on her tutor's playing. He begins to play the piece they've been working on for a week or so, the one that had way too many dynamics for her when she first started it. The music becomes more than just a sequence of notes that she has memorized, though - it's a canvas waiting to be adorned with colours and emotions. He starts with mezzo-forte, channelling energy and intensity into the keys. Then, as the music shifts, he transitions seamlessly into mezzo-piano, infusing the melody with a delicate intimacy.

Her gaze flickers to him for a moment, and she's met with his charming smile. Another wave of whatever through her stomach. Butterflies ? No, it can't be.

With each note that passes between them, she feels like he's not just playing music; he's telling a story, letting the emotions flow through his fingertips. She's instantly transported to the first day when she heard him play, when she leaned against the door waiting to come in.

He finishes the first page, his fingers remaining on the keys just a few seconds longer before lifting his hands and looking at her. He grins before saying, "Your turn."

She grins as well, definitely mirroring his expression. She feels the tension in her shoulders relax a bit, despite her stomach still doing flips like crazy.

"My turn," she repeats, turning to look at the piano. It's big and brown and used to look quite impossible to play. But now, she takes a deep breath before lifting her hands above the keys.

She feels his gaze still on her, and a warm blush instantly spreads a

cross her face when she starts to play.

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