musicians get unnerved when you tell them they have pretty eyes
lyra x grayson as lucy x schroeder
synopsis: 9 year old lyra kane gets to attend a fancy new ballet school, as a result of her getting scouted and being able to attend it with some financial charges already being taken care of. safe to say, she loves it. she also loves bothering the little blonde boy she sees playing the piano every day before her class.
tag list: @reminiscentreader @beautifulmusicengineer @grc-tig @lyrrrr @runnningoutofink @haniya1234 @cocomowgy @anintellectualintellectual @thechildofshadows @diamondrattherevenge @sturntaped @atropinenightshade @deepestwitchtraveler @queenslovetoread @angelnextdooor @sweet-girl-in-cabin-13 @ria-lina @no1lyrakanedefender @nothinggggg7 @saythewordheiress @tooprecious2gamble @ria-lina
warnings: literally nothing, this is the cutest fluffiest thing ever
authors note: lyra is grayson’s age in this!! guys this is literally a cross over of two of my MOST fav things: charlie brown, and lyrason. like i loooved charlie brown as a kid, esp snoopy, and i currently love lyrason so this is so so special to me. also thomas’ death will not be brought up whatsoever!! its up to the reader if it even happened or not.
if you recognize some scenes, that’s because they were taken almost verbatim from some of the charlie brown comics!!
THIS IS MY CHRISTMAS GIFT TO YOU ALL!! ENJOY, AND MERRY CHRISTMAS!! 🎄🎄
Lyra was skipping on her way into the fancy building that was about an hour away from her home town. This place was nothing like the old ballet school she attended—this one was fancy, with pillars and statues and a huge, big garden. Lyra squealed when she saw a butterfly land on a flower near her.
“You excited, Cat?” A voice chimed from behind her. Lyra stopped her bouncing to turn around and look at her dad, who was looking at her with a barely contained smile.
Lyra’s smile, however, was not barely contained. It spread across her whole face, putting her otherwise cheerful looking face on a whole other level.
“Yes!” she exclaimed, running and jumping into her father’s arms. Her father laughed, pulling her into his arms and tossing her up high, before setting her down again. Lyra squealed as he did. She loved when her dad did that—it made her feel like she really was flying.
“Okay, let’s go. Don’t want to be late.” her father chuckled, taking her hand in his and leading her up the stairs of the building.
Lyra let her hardly contained excitement guide her, knowing that once she entered this palace, she’d never want to leave.
Of course, the inside was as beautiful as the outside. It was all marble, nothing like the old wood of her old dance school, and there wasn’t somebody banging the cymbals next door. This place was truly for the sophisticated arts.
“You ready, Bug?” Lyra’s father asked her after making sure everything was signed up for and ready, settling her bag into her tiny hands.
“I’m ready!” Lyra chimed back, a grin still on her face. Her dad smiled back at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“I’ll be waiting downstairs. Once you’re done, wait up here for me. This place is big and I wouldn’t want you getting lost.” he said, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Lyra’s cheek. “Bye, darling. Good luck.”
“Thanks, daddy.” Lyra replied, smiling. Her father walked away then, and Lyra saw a man standing by the doors. Assuming he was her dance teacher, she went up to him.
“Hello, sir. I’m Lyra Kane.” she greeted, having to crane her head to look up at the willowy, tall man. His eyebrows raised when he saw her, although his facial expressions remained the same.
“Ah, Lyra Kane. You’re the new ballerina. Yes, classes start in 5 minutes. However we expect our ballerinas to wait outdoors for their first couple times, so as to avoid any confusions about the space. Do you understand?” he asked her. Lyra smiled politely.
“I understand.” she chirped.
“Good.” he said, before turning away and continuing to check something off a sheet. Lyra’s feet began to wander, her cozy winter boots sliding on marble, and suddenly, she found herself standing face first towards a door. The door was glass, and through it, she saw a boy.
Normally, boys were always an old topic for Lyra. Her father used to boast about that, once saying “my daughter is too preoccupied with her future to worry about dumb things like boys”, which was said towards her uncle Darren when he admitted that his 11 year old daughter keeps whispering to her mother about boys, and looking bashful and ending the conversation when Darren would enter the room. However, this boy felt different.
He was pretty, Lyra noticed that. His hair was blonde, not entirely white blond, but almost like a step below that, and his eyes were so light they looked grey. She couldn’t help but stare at him, and the piano that his fingers were on.
Lyra could just barely hear the music he was playing, something classical, but also something beautiful.
“Do you like the music?” A voice spoke suddenly, making Lyra turn to her side and see her dance teacher yet again, his eyes looking through the door.
“Yes.” Lyra answered, looking back at the boy who was playing.
“Here, we focus mainly on ballet, but we also dedicate some classes to focusing on other arts, such as piano. At the end of the season, we pick one of our pianists to play whilst one of our most esteemed ballerinas perform. It’s quite the event.” her dance teacher said. Then his eyes met hers, having to lean to do so. “You could be that ballerina. Who knows.”
Lyra was shocked at that. She desperately wanted to be that ballerina—she wanted to challenge herself more and more, because she knew she could. Lyra smiled.
“Thank you, sir.” she said. He smiled, and walked away. Her eyes went back to the door, and for a second, she was lost in the distant sound of the music.
As soon as Lyra’s mother dropped her off and left, Lyra remembered what her dance teacher had said: “we expect our new ballerinas to wait outdoors for their first couple times, so as to avoid any confusions about the space”. So, heeding his words, Lyra went back to that same glass door, and peaked through.
It was the same boy, perched on the piano. However, this time, there was no teacher around.
There was 10 more minutes till class started, and technically Lyra wasn’t allowed inside, so…
Lyra twisted the doorknob and pushed, walking into the room she’d stared at through glass a mere 2 days ago. At the sound of somebody walking in, the boy playing the piano looked up. Seeing that it was clearly not who he’d expected, his face immediately looked confused, before he turned his attention back to the piano.
Lyra walked closer to him, before stopping before the piano. If the music sounded good outside, it sounded even better inside, and there was something about how his fingers moved on the piano keys that mesmerized Lyra.
“Hi!” Lyra exclaimed. The boy messed up, clearly going off key, before going back on track and continuing the song.
Then there was just the sound of music.
“My name’s Lyra.” she said. Oof, another mess up from the boy. He looked a little frustrated then, but didn’t say anything. Lyra’s eyebrows furrowed, before she pressed her hands onto the piano and looked closer at the boy.
“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?” Lyra said, visibly flinching when the boy went so off key she no longer knew if the song was salvageable. He stopped abruptly, before sighing and turning to her.
“Grayson. My name is Grayson. Why are you here?” he said, his voice less than friendly. Lyra smiled, undeterred by his sassiness.
He raised his eyebrows at her, expecting her to go on. And go on, Lyra did.
“I’m a new ballerina. Honestly, I didn’t think my parents would be able to afford a place like this, but they did. Although I think the school helped out. Either way, I’m really excited to be here. And guess what! If you bring a piece of candy, or something sweet to the garden, and you drop it on the floor, you might get to see a butterfly land on it!” Lyra rambled.
“So?” Grayson asked. Lyra smiled, although her eyes flitted to the floor.
“I don’t know. But I thought it was cool.” she mumbled. He went silent.
“It’s kind of cool.” he admitted. Lyra smiled at that. Noticing that the piano was small, and quite low to the ground, Lyra hopped onto the top of it. Grayson paled.
“Can you play something else?” Lyra asked, kicking her feet off of where she was seated on top of the piano. Grayson huffed, crossing his arms.
“I don’t take orders from you.” he said. Lyra raised an eyebrow.
“Who do you take orders from then?”
Grayson thought about that for a moment.
“My grandfather. Also my older brother, and his girlfriend. And the great Ludwig van Beethoven, of course, if he were still around.” he replied. Lyra drew up a face at that.
“Who is Ludwig van Beethoven?” she asked. At that, Grayson’s pretty eyes narrowed at her.
“You know, you should get off my piano.”
Grayson’s cheeks blushed pink at that, and Lyra resisted the urge to laugh.
“Well, hello there”. A voice said abruptly. Lyra whipped her head around to see an old man, lingering by another door. Lyra’s eyes narrowed, whereas Grayson’s widened.
“Grandfather.” Grayson said, looking bashful. Lyra looked at the grandfather in question.
“Oh. You’re the one Grayson takes orders from.” Lyra commented, before smiling. “Hi! I’m Lyra. I’m Grayson’s friend.”
At that, Grayson jumped off the piano seat, his cheeks growing redder and his eyes narrowing.
“No she’s not!” he exclaimed, pointing at Lyra in a way that seemed accusatory. Lyra jumped off the piano, slightly offended, before Grayson’s grandfather spoke.
“Look, I hate to ruin the fun, but Grayson’s lessons end now. I’m here to pick him up.” The old man spoke, his voice stern yet hearty. Lyra glanced at the clock in the room, and her eyes widened.
“Oops. Sorry, my ballet classes start soon.” Lyra commented, walking out. Before she left, she turned around and looked at Grayson’s grandfather again. “By the way, it’s nice to meet you!” she added. He smiled lightly.
“Likewise.” he said, nodding at Lyra. Lyra nodded back, before shooting one last slightly-disgruntled look at the boy who’d been so quick to shoo her off, and running out the door.
Lyra was a week into her lessons, and loved the place more and more each time she stepped into those marble walls. She remember her last class, when her dance teacher had pulled her in front of the rest of the ballerinas and praised her for her quick adjustment and how well she was performing. That made her heart swell with pride. Now, she doesn’t have to wait for class to truly begin before going inside the studio.
Still, she spends all her spare time before class watching the blonde boy play piano outside the glass door.
Every day she gets there, the piano teacher is usually nowhere to be seen. Lyra assumed he left Grayson to his own devices for the last 10 minutes of class, or was taking a smoke break, even the words making Lyra’s nose twist with disgust as she thinks of the bad smelling death machines.
Somedays, he’s there. Those days Lyra watches him perform out the glass door. But the days that the piano teacher is gone? Lyra never hesitates to head inside.
At first, she bothered Grayson because she wanted to be his friend. But after the first two tries left her empty-handed, now, she just bothers the snooty blonde simply… well, to bother him.
And that’s exactly what she was doing today.
Grayson glances up when he sees her walk inside, but immediately goes back to his piano.
“Hi, Grayson.” Lyra greeted, jumping up to dangle her feet off his piano as she’d done the past couple times.
Grayson says nothing in response.
Lyra tilted his head at him. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
“I didn’t invite you in here, and yet you keep coming. That’s the matter.” he grumbled, his fingers continuing to drift across the keys. Lyra’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes you are. You pretty much play alone for the last 10 or 15 minutes of every piano class, and yet you get mad when I try and bring you company.”
“I don’t need company.” Grayson snapped. Lyra giggled.
“You snap at people a lot. Hey, I have a new nickname for you. “Snapping turtle”. Because you have a hard exterior, just like a turtles shell, and you snap at people a lot.” Lyra said, laughing. Grayson paused, the song stopping, before he continued playing, grumbling something like “I can’t stand it, I just can’t stand it”.
It went quiet for a second. Before, for once, Grayson broke the silence.
“My grandfather said you probably can’t afford this place.”
And just like that, Lyra gasped with indignation. Her feet swung around, winter boots slamming onto the keys, and making Grayson jump back with shock as he tried to save his precious fingers from getting stepped on.
“What? Yes I can!” Lyra shouted. Grayson looked up at her, his grey eyes glinting with shock, and then something that looked almost like regret. “Just because I’m not fancy and snobby like you doesn’t mean I can’t afford this place.”
“What else does he say? Does he say I don’t deserve to be here?” Lyra said, her voice less loud now, and insecurity bleeding out of it. Grayson stared at her for a moment.
“No. He just said that.” Grayson said. Then, he followed it up with a quick, “I’m sorry”. Lyra was taken aback. He didn’t seem like the type to apologize. Lyra just stared back.
“I’m sorry too.” she said. His blonde eyebrows furrowed.
“For calling you snobby and fancy and self centred.” Lyra explained. His eyes narrowed.
“You didn’t call me self centred.”
“Oh. Maybe I just thought it then.”
Lyra swung her feet back around, ignoring his annoyed face, and continued to swing them off the side of the piano.
“Great. Now my keys are all wet from your boots.” Grayson said, standing to grab paper towel.
“Sorry, grey-eyes.” Lyra apologized. Grayson stopped just before wiping the keys down, and Lyra could tell he had that same dopey blush on his face like last time she called him grey-eyes.
“Don’t call me that.” he said, while wiping down the piano.
“Why not? Your eyes are grey, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, but…” he trailed off. He didn’t continue after that, and when Lyra shot him a look, she saw his ears maddeningly red. He sat down, and started to play, when Lyra thought of how hard he’d blushed a moment ago. That couldn’t help but make her laugh, so naturally, she wanted him to do it again.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you have pretty eyes, Grayson?” Lyra asked.
He slammed down on the wrong keys, and within seconds, his face turned scarlet.
“I can’t stand it, I just can’t stand it!” he erupted, throwing his hands in the air.
“Grayson?” A voice said. Grayson and Lyra both whipped their heads around to see a boy, wearing a cowboy hat (indoors, weirdly enough) and worn winter clothes. He didn’t look too old, not yet 18, maybe, but to be fair, anybody above the age of 10 looked old to Lyra.
“You can’t stand what?” The boy asked, a smile beginning to grow on his face. Grayson froze, before turning bashfully to his piano, and playing a song again. Lyra jumped off the piano, making a graceful landing, before turning and walking over to the new occupant.
“Hi. I’m Lyra.” Lyra greeted cheerfully. The boy smiled lazily.
“I’m Nash, and hello right back. Why’s Grayson so red? Is he running a fever?”
Grayson, in question, had his backs turned to them, playing the music that had Lyra hooked on her first day.
“Oh, no.” Lyra said. “I think he might be a little red because I told him he had pretty eyes. Musicians get unnerved when you tell them they have pretty eyes.” Lyra pointed out, pondering over it.
“Oh, do they?” Nash asked teasingly, his gaze turned to Grayson. Grayson stopped abruptly, whipping around to face them.
“No, they don’t.” Lyra heard the lightning in his voice, the order he was trying to portray. All that did was make her smile.
“Oh. Well if they don’t, then it must just make you unnerved, grey-eyes.” Lyra said, smiling.
Lyra watched Grayson’s eyes widen as his face went from a peachy pink, to tomato-scarlet hybrid all over in the span of 3 seconds. All diplomacy went out of the window as he turned towards the piano, hid his face in his hands, and yelled “I told you not to call me that”.
Lyra giggled at his reaction, pressing a palm to her mouth, as Nash laughed too. Then, her eyes went back to that fateful clock, and Lyra’s shoulders slumped.
“Uh oh. My ballet class starts in a minute. I have to go.” she sighed. As she was walking out, she turned to Grayson.
“I’ll see you here tomorrow, Grayson!” she exclaimed. He peeled his hands off his face to give her a withering stare.
“I hope you won’t.” he deadpanned. Lyra gave him a smile in response, and dashed out the door again.
Grayson’s head snapped up, his eyes moving to his grandfather’s stern ones as he was seated across from him at the table.
“That’s the fifth time I’ve called your name. Are you tired?” he asked, his voice disappointed.
Grayson hated to see his grandfather disappointed.
“No, grandfather.” he admitted.
“Malnourished? Unwell? Or perhaps did you scale Mount Everest?”
Grayson bowed his head down with shame, and as he did, Nash watched him with an angry look in his eye.
“Lay off him, grandfather.” Nash cut in.
Jameson and Xander exchanged funny looks, Jameson looking slightly upset, and Xander looking confused.
“Well, I’m just curious as to why a perfectly healthy 9 year old boy has to be called 5 times before he can respond.” Tobias said curtly.
“I’m sorry, grandfather. My mind is…” Grayson trailed off. “Busy.”
Truthfully, he’d been thinking about Lyra. In her absence, he just thought, and thought, and thought about her all the time, no matter how much he hated it. He thought of dumb things, like what was her last name, and what was her favourite colour, and how many siblings did she have?
And the worst question that he’d consider was if she had a crush. Or a boyfriend.
Hearing the word boyfriend even in Grayson’s mind seemed like it’d make him want to gag, but instead, it made him consider how far away Valentine’s Day was, and what her favourite flower was.
Yuck. Grayson had lost it this time.
“Well, then you must be too busy for what I’m about to tell you.”
Grayson sighed. “No, grandfather. What is it?” Grayson said, his voice sounding robotic even to his own ears.
“You’ve been selected to be the pianist for the next ballet performance. I didn’t expect anything less from a Hawthorne, of course.” His grandfather said, no sort of congratulation in his tone. Xander and Jameson chirped up, however.
“That’s so cool. You’re gonna be all—“ Jameson interrupted himself by pretending to play a piano, his nose up in the air in a pretend snooty manner. “And they’re gonna be all—“ Jameson again cut himself off to raise his arms over his head in a graceful, ballerina like manner.
“Wait—ballet?” he asked, his eyes widening. Tobias raised a brow.
“Yes. The school chooses one dancer of your age to perform while you play.” he answered.
Grayson mind immediately went to Lyra. What if she’s the dancer they pick, Grayson thought, and I completely screw up? She’ll never talk to me again, or—
But why do you care? Another side of Grayson asked. You never liked her. She’s always been a thorn in your side, even though she’s only visited you a couple times. And to make matters worse, she has an odd sense of humour, and she’s too social, and her hair is shiny, and she smells like a flower, and she calls you grey-eyes, and—
Grayson didn’t think he could form any words.
“Oh. I see.” Tobias answered, a tiny smile playing on his lips. At the same time, Nash bursted out laughing.
“Is this about that girl who visits you all the time? Are you worried she’s gonna be the dancer?”
At the mention of girl, Jameson made a sound equivalent to ooooh.
“Xander! Grayson’s been all over a girl!”
Xander gasped. “You’re dating a girl, Grayson? Why didn’t I know?”
Grayson slammed his back into his chair, his face going completely red. “No I’m not!” he exclaimed.
Nash laughed harder than Grayson’s heard him in a while. “Don’t bug him, boys.” he said, although his eyes were smiling.
“You better stay focused, Grayson.” Tobias said, his voice conversational despite the way his eyes carried a serious weight. Grayson swallowed, still red and embarrassed. He had to stay focused.
No matter how distracting Lyra was, his grandfather said he had to stay focused, so he would.
Lyra was here. Again. She’d been here despite Grayson’s protests for nearly a month now, and Grayson didn’t know what was worse: her odd conversations, her being here, or the fact that Grayson didn’t mind neither as much as he thought he would.
“I’m never getting married.” Grayson said, finally answering her question about which one he’d rather get married to: the most beautiful girl in the world, or Beethoven. Lyra raised a brow.
“And if you get lonely, will you get a dog?”
“If I get lonely, I have my piano.”
(authors note: sorry to be woke, i just had to say that theres absolutely NOTHING wrong with not wanting to get married or not liking the idea of married, the only reason lyra is confused is because ALL little kids think that to love someone you have to get married to them, its just this weird generational thing LOL. also marriage gets brought up a lot in schroeder and lucys relationship so i just wanted to involve that. okay thats all!)
Finally, there was silence. Truthfully, Grayson did want to get married someday, but he didn’t want to speak of marriage with Lyra. His grandfather was right; she was too distracting, and she gave him the wrong ideas.
He’d been trying to push her away for a while now, but she never really left. Grayson cursed himself for even unconsciously trying to keep her close, so once he pushed her away completely by saying the wrong thing, and she left earlier than she usually did.
Grayson hated even the 5 minutes he’d been left to his own devices. He hated when she was around, but hated when she was gone, too.
And there was something even odder: when she was gone… Grayson couldn’t play. Maybe if he willed himself to, he could try playing one of his simpler songs, but he was simply disinterested, or too distracted and unnerved to play. All throughout his piano classes, what got him through them was thinking about how for the last 15 or so minutes, that tanned girl would be sitting on his piano. But right then? He felt as if he wanted to quit music altogether.
However, the next day, she came back again, and sat on his piano the same way she had before. But there was a look in her eyes that told Grayson that he was lucky she was back, no matter the fact that he had been the one to cast her off. So now, he always tip-toed around the idea of her leaving in case it really did happen again.
Lyra interrupted his train of thought.
“Grayson, say we’ve been married for about, what, six months?” Lyra chimes in, making Grayson’s cheeks tinge red. “And let’s say I’ve made a beautiful tuna casserole for dinner.”
“You walk into the kitchen,” Lyra continued, despite the way Grayson’s ears began to go red too, “and you say, “what, tuna casserole again?”.”
Grayson looked up suddenly, his eyes defensive. “I’d never say that.”
“Then I say, “I worked hard making this casserole, but all you care about is that stupid piano!”. Then you walk out.” Lyra finally finished.
Before Grayson could comment on the unpleasant way Lyra had portrayed him in their imaginary marriage, somebody who could only be Jameson bursted through the back door.
“Grayson! Grandfather told you to walk yourself down to the main exit at 3:00. It’s been 7 minutes.” Jameson rambled, clearly out of breath since he, no doubt, ran all the way up here for absolutely no reason.
“I’m sorry I’m late. Tell grandfather I was involved in a marital dispute.” Grayson said, standing up from the piano and beginning to gather his stuff.
Jameson just stared at him, before his shoulders dropped. “I never know what anyone is talking about.” he said.
“Hello.” Lyra said, jumping off of the piano with a smile on her face. “I’m Lyra.”
Jameson shoulders immediately straightened again. “You’re Lyra?”
“I wanted to meet you! Nash says you make Grayson’s face go really really really red. Can you do that right now? I don’t have a camera on me, but my memory should do.” Jameson said excitedly. Grayson narrowed his eyes at Jameson, but Lyra just smiled, her eyes going to Grayson’s mischievously, and just the action combined with her silly smile made Grayson’s cheeks glow a light pink.
“Hah! You did it! How?” Jameson erupted, a big lopsided grin on his face.
“She’s not telling you that!” Grayson suddenly said, stopping his packing up to give Jameson a mean stare. Jameson just snickered at him.
“Whatever you say, boyfriend.” Jameson teased. Grayson cheeks turned a brighter red colour as Jameson left out the side door, singing a song about Lyra and Grayson sitting in a tree, and Grayson turned to Lyra.
“Ignore him.” he said, not even being able to fully meet her gaze, before dashing out the door himself.
“Alright, girls. I’ve decided. The ballerina who will be performing the designated solo with one of our very own pianists will be…” Lyra’s dance teacher said, giving everyone the suspense of having to wait. Lyra’s heart pulsed with excitement. Grayson had once told her that he’d been selected as the pianist, and that couldn’t help but make Lyra desperate to win.
“Clare McBride!” The teacher finally announces. Lyra feels her hands move to clap for her friend Clare, but she couldn’t help the disappointed feeling that took over her body in seconds. The teacher had said that it would take time for her to adjust, but… she wanted that position. Not just for her own benefit, but also because of the fact that she’d be able to dance alongside Grayson.
Now that chance was gone.
Still, Lyra put a smile on her face as Clare walked past her. “Nice job, Clare!” she chimed. Clare grinned.
“Thank you!” she squealed.
Only when she had her back turned did Lyra’s eyebrows furrow again.
The whole class was asked to attend the performance to support Clare. So, of course Lyra attended.
That, and because she gets to see her blonde boy in action.
Lyra picked at her seat, blowing on her nails with boredom.
“What’s up, honey?” Lyra’s mom asked her, nudging her side. Lyra smiled, but it was fake.
“Cross your heart and hope to die?”
Lyra didn’t answer at that. Lyra’s mother tutted, pulling Lyra closer into her side.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get picked to be the dancer, bug. I know how much you wanted it.” Lyra’s mom sympathized. Lyra smiled.
“It’s okay.” Lyra said. Lyra’s mom raised a brow. Lyra exhaled. “It’s okay. Really. I’m happy for Clare.”
“Whatever you say.” Her mother hummed, rubbing Lyra’s arm. Lyra huffed.
People sat down more and more as the room quieted, and Lyra held her breath as the curtains opened.
There Grayson was, sitting on the piano, this one being much larger than the one he’d practiced on in his classes. This piano was pushed off more to the side, so as not to take up space, and although Grayson was completely in view, a sliver of the backside of the piano was not.
The backside was typically where she sat. Lyra was relieved to not see it.
Then, Clare entered. The room, finally, began to be filled with music. Amazing, beautiful music.
And then, just as abruptly as it started… it stopped.
Clare looked confused, glancing to the pianist before continuing, and Grayson looked… scared.
She’d never seen him scared before.
His cheeks were pink, and his eyes looked so unnerved. Like he’d forgotten all his lines, gotten stage fright, and lost the motivation to perform all at once.
Mumbling and confusion started to ring out in the crowd. Still, Clare danced, but her movements were sloppier, not having the music to follow along to.
What was Grayson doing? Lyra thought with concern.
And then she got an idea.
“One second, Mom!” Lyra said, before jumping out if the chair and hurriedly dashing to the door that led backstage. Running up the stairs, she made her way to the backside of the piano.
Once Grayson saw her, his eyes widened.
Lyra placed her arms on the piano, tapping her fingers as if encouraging him. Play, her eyes pleaded, for the sake of his pride, and Clare’s performance.
Grayson exhaled. He squeezed his eyes shut. And then he glanced back at Clare, saw where she was in the dance, and continued, starting off interpretive as if trying to make his silence a part of the performance, before slowing back down to the original song. Clare smiled, and continued to play.
Lyra smiled at Grayson from where she was hidden behind the curtains, her chin resting on the piano, and he smiled back.
Roses were thrown onto the stage, and Lyra climbed back down the stairs, returning to her seat.
“Where were you?” Lyra’s mother asked, her brows furrowing. Lyra smiled.
“I’m sorry, mom. I had to help out a friend.” Lyra explained. Lyra’s mother just stared back. And then she smiled back, and pulled on Lyra’s cheek affectionately.
“I don’t know where you get your kindness from.” Lyra’s mother said, laughing. Lyra grinned, giving her mom a kiss on the cheek.
“From you, of course!” Lyra said. Lyra’s mothers smile was warm and flattered, and she looked just as if she was about to say something else, when a voice behind her spoke.
“Lyra.” A familiar voice said. Lyra turned around, and saw Grayson standing there, looking shy and a little red. “Um… thank you.”
Then, suddenly and abruptly, he reached forward and hugged her, then backed away as if he’d been burned. His cheeks looked redder then.
“You’re welcome, Grayson.” Lyra said, feeling quite proud of herself, but also of Grayson for pulling through and finishing the performance.
“Hey.” Another voice said. Lyra looked and saw that same cowboy that picked Grayson up once, Nash, it was, talking. “Did you go back up there and talk Grayson into continuing? I saw you ducking in between seats like a real soldier.” He smiled then, and it made Lyra feel prouder.
“Yup. He’s my friend, so it’s no biggie.” Lyra said. Grayson looked at her. Nash raised a brow.
“Grayson?” he drawled. Grayson smiled slightly.
“Yeah, she’s a good friend.” he finally admitted. Then Nash turned his attention to Lyra’s mother.
“Hey. Nash Hawthorne.” Nash greeted, reaching out a hand. “Your daughter has been making herself acquainted with Gray here for a little while now.”
“Oh, really?” Lyra’s mother asked, raising a brow and smirking at Lyra, who blushed in return, before shaking his hand. “Ms. Kane. I’m Lyra’s mother.”
Nash tipped his hat at her, and suddenly, Jameson and a boy Lyra hadn’t met yet was there.
“You froze up there, Grayson. But you got it in the end!” Jameson encouraged. Grayson smiled, but it was strained as he winced at the memory of him suddenly stopping.
“Thank you.” Grayson said. Then the littler boy, who Lyra hadn’t met yet, spoke too.
“Nice job, Grayson!” he said. Grayson smiled.
Xander. That was his name. Lyra turned to him.
“Hi, Xander! I’m Lyra.” she introduced. His eyes widened.
“Why is that the general reaction?” she asked, turning to Grayson. He shrugged, but he looked uncomfortable.
Then Grayson’s grandfather appeared, and Lyra saw his shoulders visibly drop as his eyes dashed away from his grandfather’s frame.
“Grayson.” The man said, and Lyra couldn’t quite place the tone in his voice.
“I’m sorry, grandfather. I didn’t mean to freeze up.” Grayson apologized, looking embarrassed and ashamed. The man didn’t say anything.
Instead, he turned his attention to Lyra.
“You seem to be a good influence on Grayson.” Tobias said, and although it was random, it seemed like a compliment. Lyra raised a brow.
“Thank… you?” she said. Tobias held out a card, not to her, but to her mother, and she accepted it.
“What’s this?” Lyra’s mother asked.
“That is my card. You can call it if Lyra ever wants to spend time with Grayson. You know, in other than 10 minute increments at the end of all his classes.” Grayson’s grandfather said. Grayson’s eyes widened. So did Lyra’s.
“Really?” Lyra and Grayson said at the same time, Lyra’s tone full of excitement, and Grayson’s full of genuine disbelief. The man barely smiled.
“Sure. We should get going now, Grayson.” he said, before beginning to walk away. Jameson and Xander followed suit, but Nash and Grayson hung around a second.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Nash said, surprised himself. “Say bye to Lyra, Grayson, then we’ll head out.”
Grayson turned to Lyra. Lyra beat him to the conversation.
“Looks like you’re not done with me yet, grey-eyes.” Lyra teased. Grayson grinned, and Lyra was taken aback. He didn’t even seem like he could grin, and yet, there he was.
“Looks like it.” he said.
Except this time, he didn’t sound annoyed by that fact. He sounded happy.
Lyra leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to his cheek to make him blush one more time.
And with a giddy feeling in her chest, Lyra didn’t doubt that he watched her go.
