First Date
Sharon had always prided herself on her ability to keep her emotions in check. She was good at hiding her feelings, especially when it came to work. But lately, every time she looked at Lydia, something inside her stirred—a spark she couldn’t extinguish, no matter how hard she tried. Their professional relationship had always been built on mutual respect, but lately, that respect had started to morph into something more—something that wasn’t so easily defined.
There was something magnetic about Lydia, something Sharon couldn’t quite put into words. Her presence filled a room in the most understated way, her quiet confidence resonating in everything she did. The way Lydia carried herself, the grace with which she played the piano, the way she spoke—there was a quiet power to her, and Sharon found herself drawn to it.
It didn’t help that their time together had increased. Rehearsals, studio sessions, the long hours spent discussing every note and every detail of their music—Sharon had found herself looking forward to those moments more than she ever expected. And when Lydia smiled at her, just a simple curve of the lips, Sharon felt her stomach flutter in a way she couldn’t ignore.
But that flutter wasn’t the only thing bothering her. The familiar rhythm of her heart—normally steady and reliable—had started to act up again. It was subtle, but Sharon knew the signs well. The occasional fluttering, the dizziness, the tightness in her chest. It was her arrhythmia—something she’d struggled with for years but had learned to manage. She hated how it always seemed to appear when her emotions ran high, and right now, they were definitely running high.
As Lydia played a delicate, almost ethereal melody on the piano during their latest rehearsal, Sharon’s gaze drifted over her once again. The room was quiet except for the soft sound of the keys, and Sharon’s thoughts wandered. She couldn’t stop thinking about Lydia—the way her fingers danced over the keys, the way she bit her lip when she concentrated, the way her eyes would occasionally flicker up to meet Sharon’s.
It wasn’t just the music that was keeping Sharon here anymore. It was Lydia. And Sharon wasn’t sure what to do with these feelings. She didn’t want to make things awkward, didn’t want to risk their professional relationship by admitting how much she wanted something more. But every time Lydia looked at her, every time their hands brushed while passing sheet music, Sharon felt that pull again.
The tension had been building for weeks now, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore.
Lydia stopped playing, and the sudden silence was almost deafening. Sharon snapped back to reality, blinking as she realized she had been staring for far too long. Lydia looked up at her, her expression unreadable.
“You look distracted,” Lydia said, her voice light but with an edge of concern. She tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing ever so slightly. “Everything okay?”
Sharon felt her face flush. She tried to hide it, but the heat in her cheeks was unmistakable. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, maybe a little too quickly. “Just... lost in the music.”
Lydia’s lips quirked into a knowing smile. “I don’t think it’s the music that’s distracting you,” she said softly, as if teasing, but there was a hint of something more in her voice. Sharon wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or if Lydia was actually flirting with her.
“I—uh, you’re right,” Sharon stammered, struggling to find the right words. “I was just... thinking about the next rehearsal. You know, trying to plan ahead.” She forced herself to look away, hoping to hide the fact that her heart had started to race.
Lydia didn’t push further. Instead, she simply nodded, her smile still lingering on her lips. “Well, if you need a break, I’m happy to call it for today.”
Sharon’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected that. Part of her wanted to say no, to keep going, to keep the distance between them. But another part of her—the part that had been wanting to get closer to Lydia for so long—felt a rush of excitement at the idea of a break, of time to spend together outside of the studio. Alone.
She cleared her throat, her voice suddenly quieter. “Actually, I was thinking… maybe we could grab something to eat. We’ve been working nonstop, and I could use a break. How about it?”
Lydia’s gaze flickered with curiosity. “Eat?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not going to say we need to talk about work, are you? Because I think we’ve had enough of that for the day.”
Sharon smiled, her nerves momentarily forgotten as she leaned against the back of the chair, allowing the tension to ebb away. “No work talk,” she said with a wink. “Just a chance to relax. No expectations. Just dinner.”
There was a long pause as Lydia seemed to think it over. Sharon held her breath, suddenly uncertain whether Lydia would agree or not. The silence stretched between them, and Sharon’s heart began to beat faster. She could feel the familiar fluttering sensation in her chest, the telltale sign that her arrhythmia was flaring up again.
She placed a hand over her chest, trying to steady her breath. She wasn’t about to let Lydia see her discomfort. Not now.
“I’d like that,” Lydia finally said, her voice soft but genuine. “I could use a break too.”
Sharon let out the breath she had been holding, surprised at how relieved she felt. “Great,” she said, her voice lighter. “There’s a place nearby—cozy, quiet. Perfect for a conversation.”
Lydia gave her a small, tentative smile. “Sounds perfect.”
As they walked to the restaurant, the evening air was cool, and Sharon found herself acutely aware of the proximity between them. She tried to focus on the small talk, but her mind kept drifting to Lydia—her smile, her quiet laugh, the way her eyes seemed to linger on Sharon just a little longer than necessary.
They reached the restaurant, a small, intimate place tucked away on a side street, far enough from the hustle and bustle of the city. The soft lighting and low murmur of voices created a relaxed, comfortable atmosphere, perfect for the conversation Sharon had been hoping for.
They sat down, and Sharon tried to ignore the way her heart kept racing, the way her arrhythmia made it hard to focus. She had gotten used to the sensation, but it was never easy to explain. She didn’t want Lydia to see her as fragile. She didn’t want her to think that she couldn’t handle things. But as she looked across the table at Lydia, the nervousness returned. The fluttering in her chest was almost overwhelming, but she forced herself to calm down, to focus on the conversation.
Lydia glanced at her, noticing the way Sharon’s fingers were tapping restlessly on the table. “You’re nervous,” she observed softly, her voice laced with concern.
Sharon met her eyes, trying to hide the tension she felt. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice a little too firm. “Just… a little excited, that’s all.”
Lydia didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press. Instead, she smiled. “You’re an interesting person, Sharon,” she said, her tone warm and almost teasing. “I’m still figuring you out.”
Sharon’s heart skipped another beat, and this time, it wasn’t from her arrhythmia. It was from the way Lydia was looking at her—like there was something more behind her words.
“You’ll figure me out,” Sharon replied, leaning in slightly. “But maybe not just yet. I’m a little more complicated than I let on.”
Lydia’s eyes softened, and she tilted her head, as if considering Sharon’s words. “I think I like complicated,” she said, her voice low.
The air between them thickened, and Sharon felt a warmth spread through her chest. This was it. This was what she had been wanting. She wasn’t sure what would happen next, but she was willing to find out.
The conversation flowed easily from there, the tension melting away as they talked about everything and nothing—music, life, and the small things that made them who they were. Sharon found herself laughing more than she expected, her heart still racing, but for different reasons now. She felt alive in a way she hadn’t in a long time.
And as the night wore on, Sharon realized something. She might not have all the answers, and her heart might still be acting up from time to time, but in that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was this. The chance to be with Lydia, to see where this connection could go.
And for the first time in a long while, Sharon was willing to take that chance.
In this expanded version, the date is more fleshed out, and Sharon's internal conflict with her heart condition and her developing feelings for Lydia are explored more deeply. There's more flirtation and tension, but also more vulnerability as Sharon navigates her feelings while trying to maintain her composure.
Lydia wasn’t sure when she had lost control of the situation. Maybe she never had control to begin with.
Sharon had always been a force—brilliant, infuriating, impossible to ignore. From the moment she stepped into Lydia’s orchestra, she had made herself known, not just with her playing but with the way she carried herself. Confidence, but never arrogance. Charm, but never insincerity. She walked the line between discipline and defiance so effortlessly that it was maddening.
And now—now she had asked Lydia on a date.
Not a professional dinner. Not a discussion about technique, interpretation, or rehearsal schedules. A date.
The worst part? Lydia had said yes.
She should have refused. She should have drawn the line, reinforced the boundary that had already blurred beyond recognition. But she hadn't. Because as much as she told herself she could resist, that she could control whatever this was—she knew the truth.
She didn’t want to resist.
Because Sharon was under her skin. Had been for months. The teasing, the stolen glances, the way she knew exactly how to push Lydia without overstepping. The way she made Lydia feel—aware, alive. And now, she was the one leading the charge, dictating the next move.
Lydia exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers to her temple. She couldn’t let this spiral. She was a professional. She was disciplined. But when it came to Sharon, all of that discipline was slipping through her fingers.
And worst of all? She wasn’t sure she wanted to stop it.
Lydia had always known what she wanted. From the moment she first stepped in Berlin, the path had been clear—demanding, yes, but unmistakable. She had clawed her way to the top with discipline and unrelenting precision, each step calculated, each move intentional. And now, the ultimate goal was within reach.
Chief Conductor.
It wasn’t just a title. It was power. It was legacy. It was everything she had worked for, everything she had sacrificed for. The board would be making their decision soon, and Lydia needed every possible advantage. Reputation, connections, leverage—these things mattered just as much as talent.
And that was where Sharon came in.
Lydia didn’t like admitting it, but Sharon was a variable she hadn’t accounted for. She had expected competition, resistance, the usual backstage politics—but she hadn’t expected Sharon to slide into her life with such ease, with that teasing confidence, that damnable presence. She was frustrating, unpredictable, and entirely too aware of her own charm. But she was also well-connected, respected, and, perhaps most importantly, in the good graces of people Lydia needed on her side.
There had been whispers—speculation that Sharon had ties to members of the board, that she knew exactly who pulled the strings behind closed doors. And Lydia, for all her pride, knew when to play the game.
That didn’t mean it was simple.
She could already feel the weight of it pressing down on her—needing to maintain professionalism, to ensure that whatever was happening between them didn’t compromise her ambitions. And yet, the idea of keeping Sharon at arm’s length felt increasingly impossible. The woman had a way of slipping past her defenses, of turning sharp-edged exchanges into something dangerously close to flirtation. It was maddening.
The upcoming date—was that what it was?—only complicated things further. Sharon had been the one to suggest it, her tone just teasing enough to keep Lydia off balance. A small part of Lydia had wanted to refuse, to keep the boundaries clear, but another part of her—one she wasn’t proud of—wanted to see where this would lead.
She needed to keep her focus. Needed to remember what was at stake.
But she also needed to understand Sharon.
And if that meant playing along, letting the tension unfold naturally, then so be it.
She would be careful. She would be strategic.
She would not let Sharon Goodnow be the distraction that cost her everything.