I was kind of thinking that we'd keep meeting in the aux gym, because that's where I usually play trumpet and I guess where pretty much all of our interactions thus far have taken place, but the day after we make our deal, he shows up to the aux gym a half an hour after dismissal (when he didn't show immediately, I started practicing, which I guess was a good choice). When I start to switch to my trumpet, he stops me. "The teachers will probably kick us out soon. You want to come to my place?"
I didn't quite think we were at that level of familiarity yet, but I guess I was wrong. I nod anyways and pack up my stuff, following him to the parking lot behind the school where he parks his car.
It's hard not to immediately resent him again just setting eyes upon that car. It's definitely worth more than I am, and I don't even know that much about cars. Either way, I get in and fix a neutral almost glare on my face as he drives to the ultra rich part of the city where he apparently lives.
I don't spare his house a glance when he parks, refusing to give him the satisfaction even though I'm almost a hundred percent sure that he doesn't care anywhere near that much. He leads me inside, through the excessively rich interior until we get to a room somewhere in the back of the house. It has a piano and a few couches, and a bunch of books. I frown.
"You don't have a whole extra music room?"
"Nope. This is the only room in the house with an instrument."
"That's dull," I say as I slide onto the piano bench, admiring the workmanship. When I look back at him, he's watching me and smiling.
"You can play it, if you like."
I almost greedily open it to reveal the keys, flexing my fingers before pressing middle C, just to check if it's in tune. Fortunately, it is. "Does anyone in your family play?"
"My mom."
"Ah." I play a quick scale to warm up, then launch right into the first song that comes into my mind. Part of me definitely feels mean for doing this, because I know the piece I'm playing is impressive, and Axel has literally told me that he loves music but can't play it very well, and wishes he could.
When I glance up at him, though, he looks more like like he's enjoying it than being hurt by jealousy, which really only proves what I already knew- that he's a better human being than me.
I stop playing abruptly and give him a suspicious look. "Okay, I have a question. Why do you need me to help you be better at playing the trumpet? You're rich, hire a professional."
He looks a little uncomfortable. "I mean, my parents aren't huge fans of me liking music. They did let me hire a teacher once, hoping that I'd get it out of my system, but the teacher sucked- or maybe I'm just that bad- and my parents gave up and refused to fund my desire to play music any more. I'm lucky they still let me do band."
"Oh." I look at him for a second. "That kind of sucks. Also, didn't you just say your mom plays piano? Seems kinda hypocritical. Did it ruin her life or something?"
"No, it's just a thing. Girls in our family learn piano. My parents are really traditional."
"Oh. Well." I pause. "Are they going to sue me for teaching you?"
"No. They might not adore you, but I mean, if my parents like you then you're probably doing something wrong."
"Then I bet they'd love me," I mutter as I stand up from the piano, closing it and getting out my trumpet case. "Okay, so... I should tell you now that I don't know what I'm doing, and I'm going to suck at it."
"That's fine."
"Alright." I hesitate awkwardly. "Then... get out your trumpet, I guess, and play that song we started a couple of weeks ago."
"Sure." He does as I tell him, having to restart once or twice because- well, because his rhythm is terrible. After the second time, I get out my phone and open the metronome app, which helps a bit, but I can see that he doesn't know the song well enough in the way he's rushing to get from note to note. Once he gets halfway through it, I stop him.
"Alright, so the main issue that I can see is that you don't know the song well enough, which is just a matter of practice. Aside from that, um. Don't panic, you're kind of panicking the entire time, and that makes it harder to think and play. Which might be because you're overcomplicating it. You need to be calmer when you try and play music, and stop seeing it as a big, frustrating thing. You're just pressing down on little buttons and exhaling really hard."
He nods. "Okay."
We practice that for a bit, and while I really don't know what I'm doing- I've always just been good at playing music, it just works in my brain, there's no magical secret that I know of- he does improve a bit and I can see that he's pleased. Then we get to the part that I've been dreading.
"So... you want me to teach you how to be a good person?"
"Charismatic," I correct, regretting my earlier wording. "I just want to be able to have lots of friends and get girls."
"Alright. Well. I think the first step here is probably to apologize to Keira."
I scowl at him. "How do you know about that?"
"She very briefly talked to me about it. But she seemed really upset. So..." he shrugs. "I don't want to get super involved in your personal stuff, but I also don't know how to do what you want me to do without doing that."
"Just tell me your secret."
"For what?"
"Having friends. Getting girls."
"There's no real secret. It's just a matter of knowing what people want and giving it to them. A combination of observation and validation."
"Sounds... a lot less effortless than you make it look." I did not mean to say that. He smiles a little.
"I've just been doing it for a while, so it's kind of a second nature."
"Great. So you can't help me. Thanks for nothing. Where's the nearest bus stop?"
"Hey hey hey. Nash. I didn't say I couldn't help you. It's just going to be work. Practice. Like learning how to play the trumpet really well, I'm assuming."
He's kind of right, there. It's annoying that it's not actually going to be easy, though. I sigh. Deeply. "Fine."
"So, like I said. Observation and validation. First you need to learn how to see what people are feeling, and how to hear what they're not saying."
"Wow, poetic," I say drily, and he lets out a breathy laugh.
"I guess. For example, though- I knew you were jealous of me from our first conversation. You're insecure and your self-worth is based on whether other people care about you or not. Because other people have that power over you, you don't trust anyone. You resent everyone who appears to be happy and you focus on that anger instead of your own unhappiness."
"Thanks for the psychoanalysis. Next time we're doing this at my house so I can kick you out."
"I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable. I'm just demonstrating how I know that you'll like me more if I don't seem to try to get too close to you, and explicitly trust you first."
I squint at him. "You're trying to use your friendship powers on me, aren't you?"
He practically beams. "Yes."
"Okay, well fine then. I can make up stuff about you too, if that's how you want to play it. You... have this really obsessive need to be best friends with everyone because you want their approval, because your parents are all mean and traditional and don't approve of your music thing. You psychoanalyze everyone so you can present yourself in the way that'll make them like you the most. You use that to fulfill your need to be friends with everyone, but it only kind of works because whenever you're not around all your friends you feel alone and sad. So... that's the observation part. So the validation part... basically all I would need to do to make you like me is let you befriend me."
He blinks. "I mean, your observation was pretty good considering you barely know me at all, but the validation was spot on."
"Really? You like anyone who your friendship powers work on," I say disbelievingly.
He shrugs, smiling. "Pretty much. Don't you like the people you're friends with?"
Well, when he puts it like that, it seems obvious. I scowl. "So I didn't really get anything."
"No, that was a really solid start."
I roll my eyes, not really believing him. "Anyways. How about getting girls?"
"I mean, I've only ever dated one girl. I don't know what kind of experience you think I have with this."
"Okay, but that one girl was Scarlett Brooks. And girls are throwing themselves at you all the time, you could have any one you wanted."
"So... you just want me to teach you how to make girls... notice you?"
I huff a little. "I want you to teach me how to make girls interested in me."
"Alright..." he examines me carefully. "Alright. Start with hygiene, probably. You want to look nice, or clean at least. And you want to smell nice too."
"I feel kind of insulted."
"None of this is specific to you, I'm just telling you where to start."
"Make it specific to me."
"Why, so that you can be insulted properly?"
I glare at him. He grins.
"Alright. Well, you don't look dirty, necessarily. You could probably benefit from using a hairbrush, though. Oh, and if you're not already, then make sure to wash your face every morning and night. And I mean, I'm really hoping I don't need to tell you to brush your teeth."
"Um, no. I brush my teeth."
"Good. Bad breath is an immediate turn-off."
"Is that why you broke up with Scarlett? Did she have bad breath?"
He gives me a look. "No. And I'm not telling you anything else about her."
"Then tell me something useful, other than how to be clean and hygienic."
He considers that, then shrugs. "I don't know what you want me to tell you. I treat girls like friends. Observation and validation. It's actually sometimes easier to tell what girls aren't saying than guys. Because guys don't tend to hang around and wait for you to figure it out."
"For example..."
"I mean, everyone has emotions and insecurities, right? Girls aren't any exception. If a girl isn't making eye contact with people, she's probably upset. If she's doing that with her chin up, she's angry. If she's doing it with her chin down, she's sad or anxious. If she's moving quickly, she's probably scared. You just have to learn what to look for."
"Okay." I lean forwards, finally feeling like we're getting somewhere. "And how do you know if she's into you?"
"Um- flirting signs. Touching hair, wide eyes, showing you the insides of the wrists or side of the neck."
"Alright. So how do you make that happen?"
"I don't know. I told you, I treat girls like friends. If a girl is sad, I comfort her. Sometimes that validation is enough...? Especially if she was trying to hide that she was upset and you're able to see through it." I can tell he's uncomfortable talking like this. "I mean, I don't think about it like that. I'm not trying to get them to like me in a romantic way. I just want to be a good friend."
"So the trick to getting girls is to read their minds."
"I mean- sure," he sighs.
I grin. "Perfect."
What do you think of the chapter? How about Nash and Axel's first session together? Their psychoanalyses of each other? And Nash's conclusion on how to "get girls"? Let me know in the comments!
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