After I left Ms. Molina's class, an overwhelming feeling rushed into my heart, overflowing my anxiety in many ways. 'What did I do?', 'Why did I?', 'Who am I?', all these controversial thoughts populated my brain, bringing even more questions. That was not who I used to be in Alpine. Does the place where I live define who I am? Or is it possible that a person can change so much when life brings them out of their comfort zone? I felt that I have already changed so much in such a short period of time, as if life was looking deeply in my eyes and asking, "Who are you?". I didn't like that question, it made me feel vulnerable, without control. I hate being surprised by my own feelings, or not controlling how I should feel or react.

'How much do I own my emotions, or do they own me?' I couldn't answer that question. Sitting at the cafeteria, eating a cold pizza with iced tea, my mind traveled to last night when my lips were touching Tia's mouth. My arm hairs reacted instantly to that memory, but I couldn't understand the meaning of it. Why was I suddenly attracted to a stranger? A woman, at that! Does that mean all my previous relationships were a lie? Am I a farce? Maybe I am a farce now, kissing someone because I miss feeling safe, or cared about. 'Fuck this. I am so tired of trying so hard, every fucking second, all I do is try'. I thought while finishing my lunch and preparing for my next class.

"Welcome, freshmen. My name is Lorenzo Bianchi, and I will be teaching 'Introduction to classic piano'. . ."

'He is an attractive man', I thought as soon as I saw my new professor at the door, greeting the students. 'That means I like men, right?' my mind suggested to me while I was getting comfortable at my seat. Everyone seemed to be thinking the same. Every girl in the room was looking at him with a certain malice in their eyes, filling the air with flirtatious whispers and gossips. His class was rumored to be one of the hardest for those who were starting, and all over the campus, older students advised us to do well if we wanted to have a shot in the next fall piano competition.

"Hi. You are Olivia, right?" My concentration was broken by a sweet voice, whispering in my left ear. I turned to see brown eyes surrounded by blue eye shadow, glitters, and voluminous black eyelashes.

"Yes", I said, almost doubting myself.

"I'm Christina, but you can call me Chris." We shared smiles.

"How do you know me?"

"I am your classmate in Professor Molina's class. It is impossible not to know who you are. I just want to tell you that I thought you were incredible, telling her how you felt about who you want to be. And when you said, 'I want to be a musician', wow! Did you see her face? Girl, that was so cool."

I laughed, quietly, to not call attention to us.

"Thank you? But . . . I don't know if I acted wisely. Now I am on her blacklist."

"To be honest, I was more surprised by how she reacted than by what you said. I mean, we are all young and stupid... no offense. . . but wasn't she supposed to be the mature one? She tried to humiliate you in front of everyone, why? Because you were late? Maybe because you confronted her? For me, she was narcissistic."

Chris's expression was soft, and I felt moved by her words. Her eyes were now concentrated on Professor Lorenzo, between writing in her small notebook words like "musical vocabulary", "underlying elements", and "homophonic texture". For the remainder of the class, we shared sarcastic gazes when students tried stupid jokes, smiles when we answered some questions correctly, admiration when Professor Lorenzo was teaching about Alberti bass by playing Mozart's pieces.

"What class do you have next?" She asked, walking in the hall with me while both had our eyes fixed on our schedules.

"Aural Comprehension. How about you?"

"Music Theory I." Our expressions changed from excitement to sadness, neither of us wanting to break apart. Friendship is a strange feeling. It starts as an emotion, a type of connection based on the enthusiasm of sharing the same opinions, tastes, inclinations. Suddenly, those emotions evolve to a feeling where you want to share more with that person, even when you disagree about half of everything.

"By the way, Olivia. Tonight, me and my boyfriend will be throwing a party at his apartment. Nothing crazy, just some music, drinks, new friends. You are coming!"

I needed to laugh, which gave her a confused look.

"Sorry, I never get used to the way people invite me around here. It is almost intimidating."

Now it was her turn to laugh and tell me how she has never thought about it before.

"I am not sure if I can go. I have private classes with Professor Molina tonight and God knows what time she will let me go".

Chris's eyes got wild. Saying she was surprised would be an understatement.

"Wait...How did that happen? I thought she hated you, or that you hated her."

"Both are correct. I am pretty sure she agreed to teach me to make a point."

"And what would that point be?"

"That I am a naïve kid who dreams of becoming a musician, when the reality is that I am not good enough."

We stayed in silence for some time, until Chris held my hand. With a friendly smile and curious eye, she said:

"All the seniors I have talked to told me Professor Molina is the most strict in the department. No one ever saw her after her office hours, except for at our department competitions. She is almost a ghost that disappears when the night comes, rebirthing at the sunrise."

An intriguing feeling grew in me as I tried to picture who Professor Molina was outside of college. 'What are her interests? How does she like her breakfast? Is she rude to everyone, or does she have a sweet side that only the closest ones witness?' A wave of questions in my brain distracted me from Chris, who was standing there staring, trying to read through my external silence.

"My point is." She continued, giving up on me. "Maybe she doesn't hate you as much as we think, if she cares enough to teach you privately." She smiled. "If you leave before 9 pm, you definitely can stop by. It is a Monday night, but we can hang out until we can't keep our eyes open."

Chris quickly left my side, with her backpack bouncing, leaving behind more uncertainties than when she met me. The rest of the day passed fast, leaving behind my certainties, bringing anxiety at each turn of the clock. If I said I knew what Mrs. Meyer talked about in the past hour it would be a fallacy. All I could think about was my meeting with Professor Molina, conspiring how I should react in a diverse range of possible scenarios that my mind drew, or how I could prove my value. 'Great way to show you don't care about her opinion, Olivia. Really, well done', I concluded while rushing to pack up my notebook and headed to the studio's rooms.

"Olivia!"

A recognizable tone of voice called my name, forcing me to stop and turn. To my surprise . . . and distress, there she was. Tia was in front of me, with her nervous smile, denim overalls and black shirt. An emptiness of thoughts paralyzed me, facing her without knowing what to say, how to react. Tia was also immobile, staring at me like she was waiting for something I didn't know how to give.

"Olivia", She repeated, but at this time quietly, with a shaky voice. "I am sorry to appear here without notice. Hum . . . I couldn't think of any other way to find you. I know it's totally inappropriate, and probably really creepy. I mean. I would think you are some sort of stalker. Not that I am saying I am a stalker. . . because I'm not! Just to clarify. You need to stop me, if not I will continuously be talking until . . ."

"Tia?!" I cut her off, my voice sounding more like a question. "How . . . What . . . "I breathed, trying to bring air back to my lungs.

"The last time we were together, you ran away from my apartment as if your life was being threatened. I need to talk to you. I just want to understand and apologize if I did something that hurt you."

Her eyes were so sad that it made me hate myself, even though I knew I was also unhappy. If the silence was filling the air, our bodies were yelling in small indecisive gestures. Her hand moved towards me, but my right foot reacted, backing away from her. Her eyes deeply stared at mine, I looked down, avoiding her gaze. My lips tried to open, but no voice emanated. Like a dance, she tried to move closer, while all my efforts were pushing her away.

"I can't talk right now. I have an important appointment." I turned my back to her, trying to leave, but her hand stopped me. With my back resting on her chest, I could feel how close she was by her warm breath on my neck.

"Please" She whispered in my right ear, causing bumps on my skin and erecting my arm's hair. I closed my eyes to the sound of her voice, and how my body reacted to her closeness.

"Please Olivia. Don't run away from me" Her supplicant voice in my ear sent me to a universe of emotions. I could feel she was smelling my hair, giving me a warm sensation on my stomach.

We stayed in that pseudo hug for a while, neither of us daring to move. It was the end of the evening, and the studio's building looked empty, making me imagine how good it would be if I turned to feel her curvy, thick lips. Her embrace was delicate as she tried to not scare me.

"Sorry to interrupt, Miss Harding."

A gravelly voice broke into our moment, setting our bodies apart. Professor Molina's gaze traveled from my face to my hand, staring at how Tia's fingers were entangled with mine. A nervousness took over my emotions, as if Professor Molina caught me lying to her. It was as if I owed her some type of explanation, which didn't make any sense. It was a weird feeling of vulnerability. On the other hand, the way Tia was holding me made me feel as if she was confronting Bianca's gaze, telling her that she was the one close enough to touch my hand. Seeing both, at the same time, just made my last night with Tia more real and, in my mind, I hated how she was forcing herself in all private parts of my world.

I separated my hands from Tia's, grabbing my backpack.

"Professor Molina". The sound of her name made Tia realize that was the woman I had spent long hours complaining about. "This is Tia, my . . . "What should I say? Friend seemed inappropriate, but even with our kiss, we were nothing more than that. Bianca was patiently waiting for me to conclude my phrase. The way she stayed still, with both of her hands holding a folder to her chest, froze me. Her cold gaze fixed on the anxious me just made the moment lengthily uncomfortable.

"Friend" I concluded, looking down as if I was embarrassed. Bianca closed her eyes, with a tired expression on her face she sighed.

"Ms. Harding. If I remember correctly, we had an appointment at 7 pm". She looked at her clock. "It is now 7:04 pm and I already feel like it was all a waste of my time. Whatever is happening in your private life, it cannot affect your professionalism. If you are unable to separate both, you should at least show consideration for your professors." She turned, starting to step away from me. "You are dismissed, Ms. Harding".

Tia whispered "sorry", more to herself than for me to hear. My heart was bouncing in my chest, while my eyes were locked on her like magnets.

"Professor Molina." I said with an unexpectedly high-pitched voice. "Please, don't go. I need you". She stopped, but as a mirage, she stayed immobile. "I need your help. Can't you see how disastrous I am?" I said as a joke, desiring for her smile and second – maybe third – chance. "I really need your help and I promise I will do my best in that room today. Just give me a chance to prove to you I am worth your time. Because I am". My voice during the last phase sounded more begging than I intended, although portraying my feelings with perfection.

She brought her left hand to her hips, while she dropped her head down, followed by a sigh. Turning, she moved towards me, allowing me the vision of her wavy black hair in a ponytail, bouncing on each of her steps. Her porcelain nose, cold eyes and stiff body composed, from far away, the most beautiful face I have ever seen. A cold air crawled up on my spine as she got closer to me, making me feel insignificant as her intimidating personality overflowed out all her pores. The way her body moved, full of confidence, made me forget about Tia next to me, or how much I hated Bianca, New York, and myself. As she passed us in the hall, she stopped at the studio's door, staring at us.

"You have five minutes to be in this class, ready to start playing". She closed the door behind her.

A wave of relief traveled through my body, as if I was able to breathe again.

"I am sorry Olivia. I didn't . . ."

"It isn't your fault Tia. But this is basically my work. You can't show up like this and expect me to be available to talk whenever you want."

"I know, but I knew you were not going to come to me. I understand you are confused, maybe our kiss didn't mean anything to you. If that's the case, I will respect you and move on. But first, I need to hear it from you. I just need to know how you feel, please."

'Our kiss meant more than I wanted to admit', I thought to myself, but I couldn't tell her. Seeing her sad expression hurt me, and even though my hands desired to reach for her skin, all I could do was smile.

"I don't know how long my training will be, but if you want to wait we can talk later."

"Yeah?!" Her bright smile was so charming that I couldn't resist and smiled shyly back.

With a mix of emotions, not knowing what was awaiting me on the other side of that door, I entered the studio room.

"Professor Molina. I am so, so. . . "

"No time for excuses, Miss. Harding." She cut me off, pointing to the bench in front of the piano.

"You can call me Olivia. It feels weird hearing you call me by my last name". I said, while positioning my body.

"Miss Harding. You were the one that insisted on these classes. If I am here to teach you important skills to succeed, here goes the first lesson: Keep your sexual life separate from your piano, if you don't want to descend on the abyss of mediocrity. No one cares about who you sleep with, but we all want your blood signature on those pianos keys. Commitment to your professionalism is the first step on a staircase of sacrifice.''

The studio was soundproof, with no windows or air circulation. Sitting on the bench, it was almost impossible to ignore how her presence disturbed me. Her words always found a way to hurt my ego, making me doubt my ability to survive in this program. She was so different from other professors, always so cynically rude, controlling the situations in her favor. While other professors, even as strict as her, showed a level of affection to us, she built an insurmountable wall between us. Her bitter mood that night just made everything worse, but what else could I expect from Professor Molina?

Standing behind me, the sensation of her warm body close to me was almost unbearable. A rage pulsing in my veins yelled at me to free them from her presence. Her body vibrated this energy that in contact with me created a feeling of irritation leading to anguish. I wish I could make her regret how unthoughtful she is towards me, but that only made me feel worse for even caring about her opinion.

"Play", She said, with an authoritative pose, crossing her arms across her chest.

I thought for a second about what piece would describe my emotions better. It didn't take longer before I started moving my fingers across the piano's keys. It started with a lyrical melody, with me moving slowly through the rhythms. The initial tones invited me to open my heart and let the saddest emotions emerge, laying them down in a sequence of repeated notes. I let all my insecurities dance through my fingers as they fluctuated throughout the piano. Unexpectedly, the melody increased the velocity, inviting my arms to draw the pace with sorrow. My chin firmly followed my arms, and suddenly, all my body was under the control of the piano.

A turbulent fortissimo interrupted the soft melody, bursting on a tempestuous sequence of notes. Hitting keys repeatedly, the piece invited me to drain my anger on its melody. Tension was all over the theme, and I could feel my distress being transmitted on the agility of my rhythmic fingers on different notes. A silence abruptly changed the route, holding my breath in my chest, to be liberated rapidly on repeated strong chords. All my frustration was being released as memory bursts. The way Molina's words affected me, my recent attraction to Tia, my missing feelings for Alpine, all unnamed sensations were being released from my inner prison. A quiet end finalized that breathtaking cadence, leaving me emptily satisfied.

I rested both my hands on my lap, recovering from that transcendent experience. After a few seconds, I raised my eyes to meet my professor, speechless. She was now standing in front of the piano, looking directly at me, but her soul was traveling to unknown worlds. With her left arm supported on her right arm that was found embracing her chest, Bianca's fingers were softly massaging her neck. That was a rare vision. Her expression was adoring, so relaxed I could notice she had small freckles around her nose, softening her image.

"Professor Molina?" – I said, knowing I was going to regret breaking that peaceful moment.

"Fantasy in F Minor, Opera 103 by Franz Schubert" – She said as if reading a book. Realizing I was staring at her, Bianca blinked while cleaning her throat from the weirdness of our silence. I couldn't avoid smiling at that moment, crinkling the corners of my eyes with my happiness. Unexpectedly, Bianca blushed all tones of red, which I thought was really charming, making it hard for me to not stare at her amber eyes.

She didn't move her gaze either. With the piano between us, we stayed quietly involved in the moment. Staying in her silent company felt comfortable, as if we didn't need to fill the instant with insignificant words. My eyes traveled from her eyes to her dark eyebrows, laying on her long forehead perfectly shaped for her elegant face. Her hair was so shiny that I was curious about how it would feel on my fingers, if the texture was soft or hard . . . if it smelled like a sweet fruit or more citric . . . I got myself wondering about how it would make me feel to have her nose close to mine, our hands entangled while sharing smiles on a winter morning.

"Miss Harding", Her words were now appealing, and her silvery tone awakened me from my trance.

"Can you call me Olivia?" I asked, with a wobbly voice. She was no longer staring at me, but at her clock.

"We can continue our class next week. I believe once a week will be enough for us to work on your abilities."

"Professor Molina. I want to compete at next fall concert. I know that sophomores never make it through the first cut, but with your help I am sure I can win. Please, can we meet at least twice a week?"

She looked at me in disbelief. Surprised was not enough to describe how unexpected my words sounded to her.

"Miss Harding you barely started your freshman year, and you are already planning for next fall? You are overthinking . . . now you need . . . " I interrupted her.