Cutler 02 - Secrets of the Morning

breath. We were talking as if we had known each other for a long time. He seemed so relaxed and not at all aloof and full of conceit as I had assumed celebrities would be.
    "I'm on my way to have a cup of cappuccino at a small café just around the corner. Would you care to join me?" he asked. For a moment I just stared up at him. It was as if I had to have the words translated. He smiled and tilted his head slightly. What was cappuccino? I wondered. Was it wine?
    "Cappuccino?" I said.
    "You could have a regular cup of coffee, instead, if you like," he said.
    "Oh. Yes," I said quickly. "Thank you."
    He waited a moment.
    "You will have to get up if you are going to join me," he pointed out.
    "Oh. Yes," I laughed and jumped up. We started toward the gate.
    "So, you live in one of the school-approved residences nearby," he said as we walked.
    "Yes," I said; suddenly feeling quite tongue-tied.
    "And do you like living in New York?" he asked. As we turned a corner he took hold of my arm. I would have expected such a gesture would make me nervous and embarrassed but instead I found myself relaxing and feeling surprisingly safe.
    "It's fun," I said, in answer to his question. "But it takes getting used to."
    "My favorite city is London. You must see it one day. In London one walks in the shadow of places built centuries ago, and yet the modern world is all around you, too."
    "That does sound exciting," I said.
    "Haven't you traveled much?" he asked.
    "Not outside the United States, no," I replied.
    "Really? I thought all the students here were very sophisticated travelers," he said and I thought now he will think less of me. "But then again," he said, stopping and turning to me, "what I noticed most about you in the audition was your innocence, it seemed so sweet." We stopped walking and when I turned to him to see why he was staring at my face so intently, my heart began to flutter wildly. I found myself looking into his eyes and unable to pull my gaze away. "You have the look of someone about to be discovered, and about to discover," he said, so softly I could scarcely hear him. He raised his hand and for a moment that seemed to last an hour I thought he was going to touch my face. Then he lowered his hand to his side. "And yet," he continued, "there's something else behind those blue eyes, some wisdom that suggests you have had perhaps very painful experiences. I'm intrigued." His eyes still held mine and he seemed to drink me in. Then the moment passed and he suddenly turned away.
    "Here we are," he said, leading me into the café and to a corner table. When the waitress asked if we wanted our cappuccinos with cinnamon or chocolate, I had to confess I had never had one before and didn't know which to choose.
    "You look like you would like the chocolate," Michael said and gave her the order. "Tell me more about yourself. I like to get to know my students personally. I've read your file, of course, and I know you're from Virginia and your family owns a famous resort. I've never been there. What's it like?" he asked and I described the hotel and the ocean and the small seaside village of Cutler's Cove. He listened attentively, his eyes rarely leaving my face as I spoke. Occasionally, he nodded and asked about something else. I didn't speak in great detail about my family, except to say they were usually very busy with the work at the hotel.
    "1 haven't seen my parents for a long, long time," he said sadly. "I've been on tour, as you know. The life of a performer, a well-known performer," he added, "is very complicated. Things the rest of humanity take for granted are very rare for us. For example, I can't remember when I last had a holiday dinner with my family. I always seem to be on the road when these things come up."
    He looked over his steaming cup of cappuccino and fixed his eyes on mine, which were now filled with sympathy and surprise. I never imagined that someone as famous and successful as Michael Sutton would have such unhappy thoughts. In every picture taken of him, he always looked like he was on top of the world, smiling down at the envious and the adoring.
    "Yes," he said suddenly, nodding, "there is something very different about you, from your name to those blue eyes that continually change shades to match what you're thinking."
    I started to blush, but he reached out and put his hand over mine.
    "Don't change," he said so fiercely he surprised me with his vehemence. "Be yourself and don't let others make