After those couple of weeks in Europe, she returned to Los Angeles—it was August 15th, and she needed to be stateside for the coming months. The Indianapolis competition was in September, just a month away. She knew she should win, though she reminded herself not to get ahead of things; humility was its own kind of discipline. Every night she practiced, working each piece until it met the standard she held herself to. There would be other prodigies competing, of course. At fourteen, she would be the youngest among them.
I have been in constant communication in the last few weeks with Ethan James. I will be meeting him again today and I am super excited,
afternoon sun cast long shadows across the outdoor café as Ethan arrived five minutes early, his long legs carrying him with an easy grace that turned heads. He spotted Rose immediately—she was seated at a corner table, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, her brown ponytail catching the light as she turned her head. The simple white sundress she wore did little to conceal the generous curves of her figure, and Ethan felt his mouth go dry for a moment before he composed himself.
Rose looked up as he approached, her hazel eyes lighting up with recognition. She wore delicate gold hoop earrings that framed her face, and as she smiled, Ethan noticed the slight dimple that appeared in her left cheek.
"You're early," she said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I wasn't expecting a basketball star to be so punctual."
Ethan laughed as he slid into the chair opposite her. "I like to keep people on their toes." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Besides, I didn't want to risk you thinking I'd stood you up."
Rose's fingers traced the rim of her iced coffee glass. "And why would I think that?"
"Because some people have a bad habit of overthinking things," Ethan said, his dark eyes holding hers. "But you don't strike me as one of them."
A faint blush colored Rose's cheeks, and she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You're very observant for someone who spends most of his time on a court."
"I observe more than you might think," Ethan replied, his voice dropping slightly. "Like how you keep crossing and uncrossing your legs whenever you're nervous. Or how your eyes have this little golden fleck in them that only shows up in direct sunlight."
Rose's breath hitched, and she reached for her glass, taking a slow sip to compose herself. "And what else have you observed?"
Ethan leaned back in his chair, a confident smile playing on his lips. "That you're wearing lingerie under that dress. Something black and lacy, if I had to guess."
Rose nearly choked on her coffee. "How—"
"The way the fabric catches when you move," he said smoothly. "Plus, you strike me as the type of woman who never leaves anything to chance. Always prepared, always making an impression."
She recovered quickly, setting her glass down with deliberate care. "And what kind of impression am I making?"
Ethan's gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before meeting her eyes again. "The kind that makes a man want to skip the coffee and find somewhere more private."
I smile at him and tell him to slow down and we are not ready for that. But i did promise him a kiss.
We spent a couple hours together then Rose went to her place where she has been staying for these past few months since she got to this country and state/ city. Rose blushed when she thought of the day she had. They promised to keep in contact and that they will be on the phone each day.
That evening, she returned to her practice. For the next two weeks, she gave herself over entirely to it—violin and piano, every piece in the competition repertoire, worked and reworked until each one was exactly what it needed to be. The other prodigies would be ready. So would she.