Page 30 of Key of Kink

“If you have the score, I can play it on the piano,” Milo offered.

Theo chuckled. “I think you could play it without the music.”

Milo flushed, his eyes sparkling. “Well, I wasn’t gonna brag, but…” He rested his fingers lightly on the piano. “Key?”

“Let’s start in C,” Theo said. “We can adjust.”

“That sounds optimistic,” Zane remarked.

Milo counted us in, and the first chord landed beautifully. The second was less so. Finnley came in early. Julian came in late but with conviction. Sebastian’s falsetto soared somewhere it had no business being. Elliott harmonised in a key that was technically adjacent to the one we were using.

By the time we reached the first “hallelujah,” we’d produced something that could generously be described as interpretive.

Theo stopped us with a raised hand. “That was… a beginning.”

“I was feeling it,” Julian retorted.

“You were feeling something.” Theo said with a smirk. “I’m not sure it was the same thing as the rest of us.”

Finnley grinned. “I went full church choir.”

“You went full individual experience,” Theo corrected. “Which is impressive, but not helpful.”

Liam cleared his throat. “I think we’re all trying to lead.”

Theo nodded. “Exactly.”

I glanced around the group—nine voices, each stunning on their own, all tugging the song in slightly different directions.

Harmony, it turned out, required more than talent.

What was remarkable was that Theo didn’t appear bothered by our first efforts.

“All right, let’s do it again, but this time, listen before you sing.” He looked pointedly at Julian, then Finnley, and finally—briefly—at me.

I exhaled and adjusted my stance.

Concentrate.

Milo counted us in again, and this time, we made it further before falling apart.

Yay, progress.

The room filled with voices messily reaching for the same thing, and I experienced an unexpected flicker of warmth, enjoying the strange, wonderful chaos of people trying earnestly to meet each other where the music lived.

Theo caught my eye across the room, and I saw a glint of satisfaction.

“Better,” he said. He clapped his hands again, the universal signal for stop enjoying yourselves; we’re about to get organised. “Right. Let’s assign parts before this turns into a spiritual free-for-all.”

“Too late,” Julian said with a nonchalant air. “I’ve already had a moment.”

Theo ignored him for the second time that evening. I doubted Julian would take offense. He wasn’t that sort of person.

“Milo, you’ll anchor the intro on piano. Sparse. Give us space.”

Milo gave a serene nod. “I live to serve.”

“Finnley,” Theo continued, “you’re on high harmony, but restrained.”