Grace doesn’t give me any chance to talk to Damian after the quiz and she drags me to Taz’s table.

“How annoyed are you?” he asks her.

“Very. It was just luck. Any other theme and we would have won.”

“Maybe. We’ll never know now. Because the records will show that our team is the clear winner.”

“Oh yeah,” Scott replies, “I’m sure a lot of people are very diligently keeping records of every trivia night and making sure that the names of the winners are never forgotten.”

I snort and Taz looks at him, dumbfounded. “This is your big victory. Why would you give me sass about it?”

Scott shrugs. “Because it doesn’t matter whatsoever and she has a fair point. Then again, that point might also apply to the music round.” He is looking at me now. “Don’t you think, Andrew Scott?”

I sit next to him – the other empty chair being next to Taz and Grace will clearly want it… no other reason – and I put my drink on the table before answering. “I don’t know. I did well. You did outstandingly.”

He smiles but he looks embarrassed more than pleased. “They were easy questions.”

“I could say the same thing.”

“Clearly. If even Taz could answer them…”

I laugh. He makes everything seem so easy. I know it’s just his laid-back nature, but it’s still refreshing. “So. Where does your interest in the sea come from?”

“I went scuba diving once. I fell in love with the ocean. I wouldn’t say that I am an expert, but my interest is genuine.”

“Why aren’t you making it your job, then?”

“Because I feel like what you’re passionate about might lose its shine if it becomes a job. You don’t need to profit or make a career out of everything you like to do.”

“Yeah… trust me, I get that part. So. Is that where the tattoo comes from?"

He raises an eyebrow and gives me a knowing look. But he doesn't comment. "No, actually. The tattoo was there first. When I turned eighteen, I asked Taz’s mom if I could have a tattoo. She said I could if it was quality in theme and execution."

"That was your first tattoo and you got it at eighteen?"

"Yep."

"I don't know if that's crazy or brave."

"Definitely crazy. It was long, painful, and I'm just happy that I didn't grow fed up with the design after just a few months. It helps that I don't really see it that often and that the artist I chose was insanely talented."

"It still looks great. How long ago was it?"

“Eight years ago. My other ink is much more recent, and yet smaller. I don't really know what it says about me.”

So he is twenty-six. I knew he was a little older but I was unable to say how much older. "That you're running out of place?" I ask and I feel proud when he laughs. "Your arms are bare, tough," I comment.

“Yeah. It can be a problem with the summer uniform. We're not really supposed to have tattoos showing and I don't want to have to wear long sleeves all the time. But even without that, I want to be the one who decides who sees my tattoos and when. I don't want strangers to have access to that part of me.”

“That makes me feel bad about the other night.”

He smiles. “It's not like I'm precious about them either. Plus, I oddly don't mind that much.”

Does he mean that someone saw it or that I saw it?

“So I’m a bit of a nosey person,” I tell him, “but you can tell me to get lost if you don’t want to answer.”

“Shoot.”

“You talked about Taz’s mother and you said that you guys were foster brothers. I remember you said it was a long story. Do you want to tell me a bit about it?”

“It’s not that interesting.”

“I just like knowing people’s lives. It’s always better than fiction.”

“Fair enough. I don’t come from a very caring family. I don’t know my father and my mom didn’t know how to look after a child. I think I was more of an annoying side effect of sex than anything, you know? Anyway. Eventually, I was put into foster care. You know all those horrible stories about placed children? I have known none of that. I was placed in Taz’s family and it was a match made in heaven. I had issues, but they loved and helped me through all of it. I aged out, obviously, but they still consider me like their child. I go to Sunday dinner, I am invited for Christmas, they give me advice or money if I’m struggling, and one day, I’ll take care of them when they need me to. Plus I got a semi-annoying little brother in the process.”

He said that last sentence louder and Taz looks at him just long enough to reply, “Yeah, I remember having to share my room.” Then all his focus is back on Grace and Scott’s eyes are back on me.

“What about you, Andrew Scott?”

“I have an extraordinarily boring family.”

“I doubt that.”

“My dad is Canadian, my mom is Japanese, they met in San Francisco when they were traveling for work, they got married in Canada, moved to the US for work, had me, and were extremely pushy ever since. My mom is a very cliché Asian mom. Violin, basketball, Ivy League, medical school. I think I was her American dream.”

“Okay, first… very not boring. Second… ‘was’?”

“I dropped out of med school. Didn’t even start. I can’t play basketball, or any sport, competitively anymore because of my knee, I dropped out of a prestigious orchestra, and I have no idea what’s next for me. I am not even productive while figuring that out. It also doesn’t help that just as my mother was getting used to me being gay, my relationship with her picture-perfect potential son-in-law ended.”

“If you ended things, he probably wasn’t such a great match.”

“He broke up with me.”

“Then he definitely wasn’t a great match.”

“I don’t know. He’s actually here tonight.”

“Aah. The boy who was staring at you the entire time.”

“Was he?”

“To be fair, you were staring back. Are the two of you getting back together?”

“I don’t know. He is taken and I’m not dating, so… not any time soon.”

“But you’d like to?”

“I think so. Is it pathetic?”

“I am the last person you should be asking for relationship advice. But you’ve mentioned several times that you are not dating at the moment. That sounds important to you. If he is right for you, he’ll be there in a few months. Hopefully that’s enough time for him to ditch his rebound.”

It’s a bit weird to hear someone be positive about getting back with Damian. Truthfully… I don’t really know how it makes me feel. Which is completely unsettling.

“Maybe. Let’s see what March brings.”

“I have another question,” he says, and I don’t know if it’s because something popped in his head or because he could tell that I was growing uncomfortable on this topic.

“Shoot,” I reply, copying his previous answer.

“What brought you to music? I know you said that your parents are pushy, but it seems to be a passion. Every single time I met you, music was involved.” That’s actually true. When we met, I was in front of a piano. “Did you learn to love it by playing or did your interest in music drove you to learn an instrument?”

“The Lion King.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I only vaguely remember that story. But my parents often talk about it. When I was a kid, I was doing a lot of extracurricular activities. The only one I seemed to enjoy was basketball. My mom tried to offer me diversity, but I wasn’t really into anything else. Not even piano, which is what I was learning back then. So she was considering making me drop everything else and focus on that one thing. Become an athlete. And then one day, I discovered the Lion King. I didn’t finish the movie that first time.”

“Too sad after Mufasa’s death?”

“No. I mean… I cried my eyes out, don’t get me wrong, but… it’s another Mufasa scene that stopped me. Or rather the music.”

“The one in the clouds?”

“Yes. Do you remember the music?”

“No. I was just pretty sure that it’s the only scene with Mufasa after he dies.”

“Fair enough. Well, I apparently developed an obsession for that particular part of the score and I replayed the scene like ten or fifteen times before telling my mother that this is what I wanted to do. We talked about it a little and we agreed that I would continue learning the piano but that I would also take violin lessons. In the end, I would drop the one I enjoyed the least. I didn’t know much about music and orchestras and it makes me cringe now but back then I was so sure that this music was made by a violin. Still. My parents got me a great violin teacher. She promised me that if I learned the basics right, she would teach me the song. And she did. I was so proud and happy. And that could have been the end of it. I got what I came for. But she had shared so much of her love and passion that I just wanted to learn more. Play more. And I was absorbing music like a sponge. I still wasn’t passionate but I liked it. And eventually, I joined an orchestra. That was it. That’s when the love came. I understood what I had loved about that one part of a movie score years before, I understood what it was like to be part of something bigger, to work together to create something beautiful, how every single instrument was so important, even the ones you barely hear, and… it became my happy place.”

“Then why leave the orchestra?”

Most people say that with a bit of judgment in their voice. He is only curious. He isn’t saying that it was a good or a bad thing, he just wonders what triggered it.

“Because I became great. As long as you are good, that’s fine. But when you are great, there are expectations. And it’s like you said. Things lose their shine when you don’t do them for fun. I think I’ll eventually join an orchestra again. Just not a professional one.”

“That makes sense.”

“Thanks.”

“What for?”

“Not telling me what I should do or should have done.”

“That’s not really my style.”

Then someone kicks me under the table. I look at Grace who is looking at something behind me. I turn around. It’s Damian, walking to our table.