Lucy didn’t know what was tightening around her throat, making it impossible to swallow the last sips of her coffee. It wasn’t until Jonathan stepped onto the small stage that she understood — it was stress. She was worried he might forget the notes, or that his fingers might slip. She was worried about a guy she’d only known for a month.

Did that mean she was starting to think of him as part of their group?

She had never been good at making friends and had long forgotten how to do it. She’d known the twins for years, and that circle of friends was always enough for her. But Jonathan was like a gust of fresh air in her neatly ordered life — he showed up uninvited and was now stubbornly trying to win her over. And while he usually irritated her to no end, now, sitting in the café waiting for his performance, she crossed her fingers under the table and quietly wished him luck.

She had met him three weeks ago in the park while she and Tiffany were waiting for JJ, who’d promised them a “surprise.”
Tiff had suddenly gone quiet mid-monologue and waved at someone in the distance. Lucy followed her gaze — and that’s when she saw Jonathan Martin for the first time.
What struck her most was the joy radiating from him — so vivid it seemed almost tangible. Despite the frosty day and snowflakes falling from the sky, he was bursting with energy, as if the cold had no hold on him. He looked like someone who could carry a grand piano on his back.
Lucy had to fight the urge to smack Alan with her sketchbook — he was the mastermind behind this whole setup. He had decided she needed to meet his friend from music camp who’d just moved into town. In his opinion, it was the perfect chance to finally get Lucy out of the house and make her socialize with someone other than the Lavoies.

What’s wrong with this guy? she had thought at the time.

By the end of the day, which the four of them spent together, she couldn’t recall a single moment when Jonathan wasn’t beaming. It started to get on her nerves — especially when, noticing that Lucy rarely smiled, he’d declared with full confidence, “By the end of next year, I’ll make you smile every single day!”

He hadn’t given up since. Despite zero progress, he kept trying anything to draw a bit of optimism out of her, to make her lips twitch upward for even a second.
He didn’t understand that after everything she’d been through, she had no interest in looking at life through rose-colored glasses.

The Jonathan now stepping onto the stage looked like a completely different person.
He straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and kept a serious expression on his face. He sat down at the glossy white piano, introduced by the café manager. Slowly lifting the lid, he adjusted the bench height, unbuttoned the top of his grey shirt, and placed his fingers on the black-and-white keys.
He exhaled shallowly.
To Lucy, the whole process felt like it took forever.

And then Jonathan began to play.

Lucy sat up straighter, leaning forward as the first notes rang out.
She had never been, and didn’t think she ever would be, a fan of classical music.
She preferred sharper, more energetic rhythms — songs with depth, hidden meanings she could relate to, even if just for a moment. Classical music never gave her that. It lacked the words she could connect to. She never knew what the piece was trying to say.

She’d expected Jonathan to play something slow and melancholic — the kind of tune that often played on her aunt’s radio.
But what she got was a cold splash of water straight to the face.

She nearly dropped her glass when the opening notes of the Turkish March bounced off the café’s brick walls like tiny sparks — fast, light, yet precise.
His fingers danced effortlessly across the keys, blending classical elegance with a hint of playfulness so typical of Mozart. Once he had everyone’s attention, he slowed the tempo, softening the tone without losing that signature liveliness.

There was something unique in the way he played — he didn’t just reproduce the melody mechanically; he added flair and finesse, like he wanted to take the audience on a trip back to 18th-century Vienna.

In the final bars, Jonathan highlighted the rhythmic accents, striking the keys with greater force to create an almost percussive effect. He ended with a dramatic fortissimo, leaving the final note to hang in the air for a moment before it melted into the café’s cozy hum.

Jonathan lifted his hands from the keys, grinning widely.
He stood and gave a small bow, and the crowd remembered it was time to applaud.
At first, there were only a few claps, but they quickly grew louder. The café erupted in thunderous applause.

Lucy joined in, her gaze locked on Jonathan.
He looked victorious.

Jonathan bowed once more, this time more theatrically. As he straightened up, his eyes met Lucy’s.
They sparkled with joy, like a child who had just impressed their parents and was basking in the praise.
He winked at her, and his look said it all:

“Come on, grumpy — smile.”