Fortunately, Ernie wasn't experienced enough of a player to have worked up enough water, which was what her delicate tempered horn instructor had called the valves full of spit Hazel had to empty. It was gross, but it was a reality of playing and didn't bother Hazel as much as it might have other girls. When she wasn't at school she was catching and gutting fish with her da, so.
"Nearly finished," she said, catching Ernie's yawn. Her eyes softened and she smiled. Was there any boy handsomer or sweeter? She didn't think so.
Packing away her horn, she stood up. He was tired and she wanted a few hours to lie on her bed and imagine how things could've gone differently.