Kevyn took a deep breath and closed his lips around the mouthpiece, his eyes closed. He arched back, reaching for the high notes, a plaintive wail, then tipped forward to lock his eyes on Cory again. Could she be falling in love by watching a guy play a clarinet? It was as if there was no space between them, no other people in the room. Couples, swaying to the music, glided in and out of her field of vision, but an unbroken channel remained between them. His hands move deftly along the instrument and felt as if they were moving along her own body. Her skin inside her clothes was electrified, imagining the lightest touch. She wanted to go on stage and stand behind him in the spotlight, rest her head against his shoulders, and slide her hands up under his shirt and play the same notes on his muscled abdomen. As she imagined the scene, her eye caught a look from the drummer. He was softly backing Kevyn’s solo on snare, but she realized, he was watching her watching Kevyn.
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