I laugh. I lie my cello and bow down gently, then stand and walk over to flop down next to her on the couch. She turns so that she can watch me.
"Flattery will get you everywhere, you know," I say.
"Is it flattery if it's true?"
"Difficult question. I do, however, think you're being way to generous with your praise, Robs."
"Lexi. God's own truth. I've got all the pieces I've ever heard you play on my Mac. None of those cellists can touch you for the emotion you put into your music."
Say what you like about Robyn, one thing she does have is a good ear for technical ability. I feel gratified that she thinks I'm that good, even if the truth is far from it. I can hold my own but I don't have the dedication to be great.
She reaches out and wraps her arm around me, and I let her pull me in
