I see her every Friday. Sitting in the front row, her shoulders straight, her music held in front of her, watching the conductor without concession, her focus complete. Eve. Her auburn hair pinned in a elegant twist over her shoulder, the strong, sweet line of her jaw set and the sound she makes… it would damn near melt your heart to hear her sweet, pure soprano reverberate around the room. Most amateurs like me watch her in awe and adoration, those in the choir who are more professional watch her with envy. Yet she sings, she packs up and she leaves, smiling sweetly to people she passes. We learned long ago not to compliment her despite the fact that the blush that colours her cheeks is infinitely more adorable than any other expression I have ever seen.
Today the rehearsal is quiet, the heavy snowfall over night has frightened any into staying home, but she takes up her usual position in the front row, she can be heard clearly tonight between the other two Sopranos who made it to rehearsal. She packs up quickly as usual at the end and makes her way into the snow, her charcoal coloured coat hugging the indent of her waist and the curve of her chest as she clutches her books in one hand and her bag in the other.
Driving home it is dark, the roads have been somewhat cleared, yet the snow continues to fall, obliterating what work has been done by the snow ploughs. There I spot her, trudging through the ankle deep snow in the dark, her collar turned up and her knees lifting high. I wind down my window and crawl along beside her.
"Eve, get in! Let me drive you home." She looks my way and smiles her sweet smile before shaking her head.
"I'm fine." Her shout is strained.
"Seriously, get in the car or I'll stop and throw you in," I call, hoping the humorous tone of my voice isn't lost into the night. She laughs, shaking her head before stepping closer to the car. "Good!"
"Thank you, Will." She sighs and she sits down and pulls the door shut, doing up her seatbelt. "I really only just live on the next street over though. It would have taken me less than five minutes." Her crystal blue eyes look at me piercingly, but I smile, trying not to show that her gaze has me, as always, completely slave me to her attention.
"Well, this will take half the time and you won't be frozen or damp." She raises her left eyebrow and looks down at herself.
"I'm already both of those things." Her laughter is a bell chime and I feel my heart clench.
"Let's get going." I try not to let her laughter and general countenance distract me as I very slowly take the entrance to the next street.
"It's the one on the end with the porchlight," she murmurs, straightening her hat slightly and tightening her scarf. "You wouldn't want to come in for a coffee or something? It's probably stupid to ask, considering the weather." She shakes her head at herself. My hesitation is due more to surprise than anything else. I watch her carefully as she prepares to leave my car as I pull up at where I think the edge of the pavement is.
"I'd love to, besides, I only live around the corner," I answer, perhaps too enthusiastically. It appears my mind is unwilling to pass up this opportunity for me to be alone with this woman who I have fantasised about for so long.
She pauses a second, her hand on the door and turns to smile. "Come on then." I follow her, slamming my car door shut and following her through a narrow gate towards the bright blue front door of her Victorian style terrace house. Her hands are shaking in their gloves as she pushes the key into the lock and then opens the door. Stepping inside, we are immediately engulfed by heat. "Come in and close the door would you." She seems breathless by the cold, her hands drop her music and keys onto a rustic wooden side table and she hastily takes over her damp outer layers, hanging them onto an old fashioned coat tree and abandoning her boots by the door. "Make yourself at home." She smiles over her shoulder at me as she pads lightly down the hall towards the kitchen. "Do you think you could start the wood burner? Everything you need should be there," she calls back to me, pointing into the room to the left.
I feel my attraction to her fast and hard in my chest. Her home smells like her, oranges and cinnamon with an additional hint of her wood burner. The furniture is rustic and comfortable as I peer around, taking in a fireplace and two cosy looking couches and walls adorned by colourful abstracts, a glossy mahogany piano to one side and book cases lining one wall. By the time she returns with a tray the fire is going and I am feeling accomplished. I haven't lit an actual fire in quite some time.