Eternal Heat (Firework Girls #3) Read Online Free

it meant I could have access to a piano any old time I wanted instead of just an hour before and after school. Though, my parents did get me an electric keyboard for Christmas, which was just amazing. It’s not the same, but it’s not nothing.
    There’s a pause in the conversation as we consider each other. Erik gives me a tentative smile. “Wanna... come in and play a bit?”
    I shouldn’t. I don’t know him. My parents wouldn’t approve. But how can I say no? A cute boy has just asked me to come into his fancy house and play on his grand piano. My heart has a fluttery feeling in my chest. “As long as you agree to play more than I do,” I say smiling. “I’m not trained or anything.”
    “Agreed,” he says, smiling more broadly now and opening the back gate for me.
    And just like that, I’m walking right into one of these beautiful yards and then, following his lead, right up the patio and to the backdoor.
    He opens it but steps aside to let me go in first. I give him a tentative smile then go past him.
    “Oh wow,” he says. “How long is your hair?”
    I’m wearing my blonde hair in double braids down to my waist.
    “I mean...” he laughs nervously as I turn back to him. “Sorry, obviously I can see how long it is.”
    “Yeah, it’s kinda long. I’ve worn it like this since I was a kid.”
    “It’s pretty,” he says.
    I feel my cheeks flush, but hope he doesn’t notice. “Come on,” he says, smiling. He leads me into the living room.
    His house is even more stunning on the inside than it was from the outside. I try not to gawk at the polished wood floors or the massive ceramic vases on the side table or the artwork I’m willing to bet didn’t come from Target. There’s a gorgeous living room set: a white couch and loveseat and two chairs. It all looks so fluffy and comfortable. And new and clean! We got our set from my grandma back when I was in elementary school. There are great big pink roses all over it and the arm of the loveseat is all scratched up from the cat.
    I follow Erik to the piano. We stop at the bench.
    “Wanna go first?” he asks.
    I shake my head emphatically.
    He laughs and slides onto the bench. “Okay. What do you want to hear?”
    I slowly come up to the piano and rest my hand on the smooth, shiny wood. Oh I just want to pet it! But I don’t.
    “Whatever you want,” I say, taking in the squat bookcase on the wall behind him. It’s filled with music books.
    “Well, how about Beethoven’s Sonata in F? That was my recital piece last spring.”
    “Okay.”
    He puts his hands on the keys, but doesn’t play. He looks at me. “You can sit if you want.” I don’t know if he means to sit on the bench or sit on the furniture. I would feel weird about either option.
    “I’m okay.”
    “All right.” Then he begins to play. It’s just as good as the other piece I heard him play, and even more amazing because I’m right here next to it. The music reverberates through my body. I watch the hammers hopping against the strings. I watch his long fingers, dancing confidently along the keys. I watch his face. He’s concentrating, eyes on his hands and not me. I slide my hand along the side of the piano some, now that he can’t catch me doing it. God, this piano feels amazing!
    I can’t believe I’m standing here, in this house, listening to this music, and watching this boy play it. Oh, if only I’d been able to take lessons for as long as he has. Or any at all! But even if I had, I probably still wouldn’t be able to play like this.
    When he finishes his piece, I clap enthusiastically and he laughs.
    “Thank you, thank you,” he says in a mock serious voice and bows his head. “Your turn?”
    He slides off the bench, so I can’t very well say no. Oh well. What am I going to do about it? I may as well do what I can.
    I decide to play one of my favorite songs. It’s not classical, but it has an engaging, confident feel I could use right now.
    “Okay. I’ll