“I bought this for you. I know your group doesn’t play instruments, but I thought that once you leave here you could use the guitar and music writing as a form of therapy.”
This is one of those moments in life where I should rush to her, scoop her up, and twirl her around before planting a kiss on her lips. Except we’re not having any of those moments…yet.
I run my hand through my hair, which is longer than I’m used to, and shake my head slowly. “I can’t play,” I tell her as I shrug. “I can play the piano a little bit, but that’s it.”
“I know. I asked your dad. I’m going to teach you.”
“You are?”
She nods. “Come sit down. Let me show you.”
I do as she says and take a seat on the blanket. I’m expecting her to sit next to me, so when she sits on my lap, I’m shocked. My hands are suspended in midair because I don’t know where to put them, and she’s wiggling in my lap, causing a few issues that I really can’t deal with here.
“Put your hands on mine.”
I rest my head on her shoulder so I can see what I’m doing and try to pretend she’s not sitting on my lap with her perfectly shaped ass pressing against my growing erection. As soon as my fingers come in contact with hers, mine tingle with anticipation. My whole body is in flames and al
ive with energy. I love this feeling. This is enough to sustain me. To remind me why I don’t need coke in my life.
“This is E major—you put your fingers here and here,” she says, moving my fingers into place before strumming. The sound is lost on me because I can’t get over the fact that she’s sitting in my lap.
“Where did you learn to play?” My words come out as more of a whisper than I intend, giving her pause.
“The Web. Sometimes I get bored here and want to try new things.” While I’m pressing the strings for E major, she’s playing a little song and singing out loud. I don’t know if it’s to me or what, but it’s beautiful.
She shows me another chord, this time placing my fingers where she wants them. I can’t stop looking at her and marveling how beautiful she is. Now I know why my father has reserved that word for my mother when he talks about her. Kimberly’s beauty runs deep in her soul.
“You should sing something,” she says, causing me to laugh. “What’s so funny?”
“I really can’t sing.”
She looks at me quizzically, and I shrug. “What do you mean, you can’t sing? You’re part of the hottest group in the world. I hear you sing all the time!”
How do you know when you’ve fallen for someone? You tell them the most embarrassing stories about your life and you do it with no fear.
“It’s called Auto-Tune. I can sing, but it’s not great. And the fact that you listen to Virtuous Paradox is really fucking hot.”
“Wow, I don’t know what to say.” She starts laughing.
“The music industry isn’t what you think,” I say, slipping my hands under her shirt so they rest on her skin. I’m not going to give up trying to get her. I can’t. She’s my new fucking drug.
“But you do sing?”
“Yes, just not well,” I admit.
“Interesting.” She returns her focus to teaching me the chords. I purposely mess up just so I can get her to stop and look at me. When she starts playing a song that I know, I start singing, only to have her stop and start laughing. Now this could be a turning point for us. I could take the laughing as a sign that I completely suck, or a sign that I can make her laugh. I’m going for the latter until she tells me otherwise.
“I get it now,” she says, covering her ears. I shake my head and pretend that I’m hurt. I’m not, but it’s fun to play. It’s refreshing to be free and not have any demands on me right now.
“I’m surprised you aren’t required to take voice lessons. I mean, you can sing, but I see what you mean. You sound nothing like the guy I listen to.”
“I like that you listen. Do you watch our videos?”
She turns and looks at me. “I feel creepy telling you this—you might think I’m a crazy fan.”
“I’m sort of hoping that you are. Do you like the videos?”
She nods. “It’s the way you move your hips and look at the camera.”