He slid onto the bench, fitting against my side in a way that was deliciously distracting. “I should have known you’d sneak off to spend time with John Williams.”

“I can’t help it. He’s just so dreamy,” I said with an overly dramatic sigh.

“There you go, making me jealous again.”

“How about this instead?” I started a fun piece while Jared watched my fingers dance across the keys.

“I know this,” he said. “Nightmare Before Christmas, right?”

I nodded. “Danny Elfman is my hero. He sang for Oingo Boingo—”

“Who did the best ‘80s song ever, ‘Dead’s Man’s Party.’”

“Yes! He also writes movie scores, like for all the Tim Burton films. I basically want to be him when I grow up.”

“He does make some great Halloween music.” He nudged me with his elbow. “Kyle told me you’re from the Bay Area. Why didn’t you go to the San Francisco Conservatory if you’re such a musical genius?” My hands froze over the keys, and he said, “Sorry if that’s too personal a question…”

“No, it’s fine.” I took a moment to consider my next words. “I picked UCLA so I’d be far enough away that I couldn’t go home all the time, but close enough to hop on a quick flight if there was an emergency.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Everything okay?”

“My mom’s an alcoholic. Sober at the moment, but she’s told me that before, so who knows. She’s also just…a mess. It’s a rare day she gets out of bed. And my father…” I used my sleeve to wipe fingerprints off the music rack, keeping my eyes fixed in front of me. “He had an affair with my mom. She had no idea he was married and had kids, a whole secret life he kept from her, but when she got pregnant, he confessed everything.”

“Damn. That’s messed up.”

“Yeah. Most of the time I forget that part of my family entirely, until he does something like buying me a guilt car for my sixteenth birthday. He paid for all my music lessons and instruments as a kid, too, like he thought he could make up for not being a real dad by throwing money at us.” I tried to shrug it off. “What about you? Kyle told me you both grew up in LA, and I know your mom is a songwriter and your dad a lawyer, but that’s it.”

Jared stared at the keys and didn’t answer, and I worried I’d crossed some line by asking him something personal, even though I’d just spilled something myself. Finally, he said, “My parents split up when I was seventeen and Kyle was fifteen. Nasty divorce.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”