Chapter Text
Francesca knew that she should not have a favorite student.
But she did. Her best friend John’s daughter, Lily. And anyway, she wasn’t a school teacher. She was a piano teacher offering private lessons out of her home. So whatever, it was perfectly fine that she had a favorite student.
The irony was, Lily was not particularly skilled at the piano. But she was good-humored and open to learning. Francesca could not ask for much more. She also got the added bonus of seeing her best friend whenever he dropped her off and picked her up from lessons.
However, Lily had not been her cheerful self of late. Francesca couldn’t blame her. Her parents were getting a divorce.
Francesca gave her space and grace. She allowed their lessons to be a place a reprieve, where Lily could be herself, show her true mood, with no consequences.
Lately, they had barely practiced anymore. Lily liked to simply sit on the couch and listen while Francesca played, and Francesca was more than happy to indulge her.
She should note — it’s not like John paid for these lessons anyway.
John was struggling with the separation from his wife. He had found himself an apartment and was in the process of buying furniture and getting set up in his new life. Between that, caring for Lily, and his full-time job, he had his hands full — and then some. Francesca helped where she could. She let him drop off Lily when she was free to give John time to run errands. She helped him find furniture on Facebook Marketplace. She brought John and Lily her famous chicken pasta bake.
John called her for support most nights, and she was happy to be there for him.
“My cousin says she’s going to come down and stay with us for awhile,” John told her over the phone one night.
“Michaela?” Francesca asked, knowing she was John’s closest cousin, though she had never met her.
“Hm,” John confirmed.
“That’s a great idea,” Francesca said.
“She says she can take about six weeks off from work, so she’s going to do that,” John continued. Michaela lived in Edinburgh and was a photographer for a magazine. She traveled the country and continent for work, taking photographs of important events for use in articles and online pieces.
“That will be a big help,” Francesca agreed.
The next time Lily had a piano lesson, it was Michaela who brought her to Francesca’s house — not John.
Francesca answered the door and was taken aback.
“Oh,” she slipped out, startled.
“This is my Aunt Michaela!” Lily introduced before pushing past Francesca and into her living room where the piano sat.
Francesca just looked back at Michaela.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Michaela smiled with a wave.
Francesca felt —
Well, she did not quite understand how she felt.
Weird? But why?
Envious, perhaps? Because Michaela was so jaw-droppingly stunning?
Charmed, certainly. Even knowing her for all of thirty seconds, Francesca could sense her raw charisma.
Then Michaela tilted her head, her eyes questioning, and Francesca realized she had yet to reply.
“Hi, um, Francesca, I’m Francesca — I mean, nice to meet you too.”
Michaela’s lips slowly parted into an open smile. Her tongue peaked out to lick her front teeth.
Francesca was — um. Oh?
Oh.
“Fran, c’mom!” she heard Lily call from inside her house.
“Ah,” Francesca jumped. She’d somehow forgotten Lily was inside behind her.
Michaela just continued to smile and stare.
“Um, the lesson goes about an hour,” she finally mumbled.
“Alright,” Michaela nodded. “See you soon, then.”
Michaela came back an hour later, exactly.
A knock on the door interrupted Francesca’s song. She was playing a lullaby while Lily rested on the couch behind her. They’d spent the first half hour talking about how terribly Lily had slept because she left her stuffy at her mother’s house the night before and how much she hated the way the water tasted from the fridge at John’s new apartment.
After Lily finished venting, she asked for Francesca to play some of her favorite songs while she listened. Francesca was happy to comply, and part of her hoped it might inspire her to want to learn how to play them herself one day.
Francesca answered the door to find Michaela once again back on her doorstep.
She was prepared this time. “Hi,” she greeted her.
“I’m back,” she said.
“Yes,” Francesca nodded.
She turned back around and saw Lily on the couch, fast asleep.
“Ah,” Francesca said. “She’s asleep.”
“Wasn’t she supposed to be playing the piano?” Michaela asked.
“Well,” Francesca’s cheeks flushed. She looked at Michaela, who was watching her with an enigmatic smile.
“We’ve been a bit loose-y goose-y on the lessons part of it all,” Francesca admitted. “Since, you know, it’s a hard time right now.”
Michaela’s eyes softened. She seemed to take Francesca in then, like she was trying to understand her.
“I’m sure she needs it,” Michaela murmured.
“Do you want to come in?” Francesca offered. “I could make us a cup of tea? She probably could use the sleep, she said she didn’t sleep much last night," she said, then turned self-conscious. "Unless you have somewhere to be,” she rushed out.
“No, no, I’d like that,” Michaela accepted with a small smile.
Francesca led Michaela inside to her kitchen.
She filled the kettle up with water and switched it on. Michaela made herself at home and sat right down at the kitchen table.
Francesca felt her nerves take over. She remembered too late just how bad she was at small talk.
“So, John told me you’re a photographer?” she started.
Luckily, Michaela took it from there. She described her job to Francesca, all her favorite places she’d travelled to for work, for pleasure. Francesca could not help but listen with fascination. Michaela was probably the most worldly person she had ever met.
Then Michaela turned in on her. She asked about how Francesca got into the piano, why she loved it, how she became friends with John, what it was like growing up with seven siblings. She was seamless, flowing from question to question, seeming to wait on the edge of her seat for Francesca’s responses and following up perfectly. Francesca felt herself light up under the attention.
They were interrupted by Lily waking up. Only then did Francesca realize they had been talking for 45 minutes.
Soon after, Michaela and Lily made their way out Francesca’s front door. Francesca followed and watched them leave.
“Until next time?” Michaela turned back to ask.
“Until next time,” Francesca agreed.
Later that week, Francesca promised John she would bring by some dinner for him and Lily — and now Michaela. She made lasagna this time.
It was Michaela who answered the door when she arrived.
“Hi,” Michaela smiled up at her.
Francesca felt a rush of inexplicable nervousness. “Hi,” she returned.
Michaela looked down at the food in her hands. “Looks good,” she commented.
“I’m just dropping off,” Francesca said.
“You’re not staying for dinner?” Michaela asked.
“I —” hadn’t been invited…
John came to the doorway too then, followed closely by Lily.
“Yum!” Lily exclaimed, looking hungrily at the dish.
Michaela turned to John. “Did you have this kind woman cook for you but then not invite her to eat it with you?” she asked disapprovingly.
“No!” John put his hands up. “She offered to cook and drop it off!”
“Hmmm,” Michaela tsked and shook her head.
She turned back to Francesca with a teasing glint in her eye. “Come eat with us,” Michaela invited her, though it came out more as a demand.
Who was Francesca to object?
Michaela corralled them all to the table to sit and eat.
Lily seemed to be enamored with her fascinating aunt (first cousin once removed?). She had yet to have her fill of peppering her with questions about Scotland, about what John was like growing up, about her job. Francesca found herself enamored too. Especially when Michaela and John reminisced together about their shared youth.
To see John and Lily so content in that moment — it warmed her heart. They deserved all the joy in the world.
Her next lesson with Lily, Lily actually wanted to play.
They practiced The Entertainer by Scott Joplin — an American ragtime song that never failed to put a smile on Lily’s face.
Francesca loved to watch her little fingers slowly but surely master the pattern of the keys.
Michaela had dropped her off, but when the hour came up — there was no knock at the door.
Francesca figured Michaela was running late. It happened. She rewarded Lily for her hard work that day by playing her her favorite Taylor Swift songs on the piano. That never failed to delight her and leave her in giggles.
Twenty minutes later, Michaela was finally at her door.
“I’m so sorry — there was crazy traffic. Some insane accident,” Michaela apologized immediately.
“No problem,” Francesca brushed off. “Do you want to exchange phone numbers, in case it happens again, then you can just let me know you’re running late.”
“Yes please,” Michaela agreed. They put their numbers in each other’s phones. But Michaela and Lily did not leave after that.
Somehow, they ended up in Francesca’s kitchen, drinking more of her tea.
That week, Francesca found herself once again being invited in for dinner after stopping by to drop off some hot food for John and Lily — and Michaela.
It was another lovely meal. Francesca could see why John and Lily loved Michaela so much. She gave as much as she took. She shared herself freely and was endlessly curious to learn more about those around her. She was a perfect force.
After dinner, Michaela offered to walk Francesca back to her car. When they reached the driver’s side door, Michaela turned to her.
“I know you know I’m not in London for long,” Michaela started. “But — I don’t know — while I’m here, there’s no reason I can’t have fun," she shrugged. "So would you want to go out sometime?”
“Out?” Francesca asked, confused.
“Yeah,” Michaela said. “Like on a date.”
Huh? Like, a romantic date? Surely not. Francesca’s ears began to ring. “Oh, I’m not —” she started, but struggled to find the right words.
“Oh! Sorry, John told me you were single,” Michaela said with a wince.
“No, I am,” Francesca’s brain felt like it turned off. “I just am not, um, attracted to — you know — women,” she managed to clarify.
Michaela was silent and simply tilted her head in response.
She gave Francesca a look up and down. Francesca squirmed under her scrutiny.
“Are you sure?” Michaela asked.
Francesca’s lips parted, affronted. “Yes, I’m sure!” she shot back.
Michaela only smiled, her eyebrows raised.
Francesca found herself suddenly outraged. “That was a very rude question,” she informed her.
Michaela was still smiling. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I know.”
And? Apology? Francesca got none.
She turned up her nose. “You are a very rude person.”
Michaela laughed. She laughed. “Yes I am.”
Francesca, unsurprisingly, could not stay mad at Michaela for long. If at all.
Because it got her thinking.
She always just sort of thought romance wasn’t for her. She tried dating in high school and college and it was…fine. She really just didn’t get the fuss. The guys were nice and she had a nice time and sex felt nice but — none of it was nice enough to be worth the trouble.
So she had long since decided that romance and dating and relationships weren’t things she needed in her life.
She could appreciate that she felt some type of way about Michaela. Even though she was not sure what that feeling was.
She liked being around her. She liked having her attention on her. She liked listening to her speak. She liked the way her lips moved around her words —
Oh. That’s an interesting thought.
She never appreciated a man’s mouth before. For really, any of it. Not the way it looked, not the words it said, not the way it kissed her.
Michaela looked like she’d be a really good kisser. She also looked like she had really soft skin. She looked like she’d smell like cinnamon cake and firewood.
What would it be like to rest her hands in the space between Michaela’s waist and hips? To squeeze there?
The men she'd dated didn’t have curves.
Were they…unattractive?
But Michaela. Michaela was so attractive that Francesca feared she might need to devour her whole. Expeditiously.
Wow. Francesca was having some very interesting thoughts indeed.
OK, so. Fine. So she wasn’t sure that she wasn’t attracted to women. In fact, she was becoming quite sure that she was. Or at least, that there was one woman she was attracted to. Really attracted to. And she was startlingly within Francesca’s reach.
Would Francesca have another opportunity like this? Michaela was only in London for a few weeks. Michaela was interested in her, and Francesca was interested in Michaela in a way she thought she might never have been interested in anyone else before. Didn’t she owe it to herself to see this through?
OK. It was decided.
The third time Michaela dropped Lily off for piano lessons, Michaela gave Francesca a wary look, as if she were not sure where she stood with her after their last conversation. Francesca tried to give her a reassuring smile.
Thankfully, by the time she returned to pick Lily up after her lesson, Michaela had softened up back to her normal self. Lily had a playdate, so she and Michaela did not linger long at Francesca’s.
But before Michaela and Lily could get too far down the walkway outside, Francesca found her courage. It’s now or never.
“Wait —” Francesca called after them.
Michaela stopped and turned back around. Lily continued on to the car and climbed in.
Francesca’s nerves frayed in the face of Michaela’s attention. You can do this. Just do it.
She swallowed and inhaled sharply through her nose. “You have my phone number, right?” she asked softly, as if someone might overhear her, even though they were alone.
Michaela’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes,” she drawled, her tone questioning.
“Well,” Francesca started, eyes darting around. “If you wanted to use it for…non-pick-up-related reasons…” she steeled herself and met Michaela’s gaze then. “That would be alright with me.”
Michaela’s lips slowly spread into a teasing grin. “Oh?” she asked airily.
Her reaction soothed Francesca’s anxiety a notch. “Yeah,” she nodded.
“Alright then,” Michaela winked before she turned around and walked to her car.