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17
Jade
I should’ve left ten minutes ago. When I exchanged that momentary silent stare with Austin. When I saw small flecks of caramel in his dark chocolate eyes. When my gaze lingered just a tad too long on his lips, after venting frustrations on Bret. Wondering why Bret’s never seemed to take two minutes to listen to me like Austin, instead always trying to find an angle for his band.
I should’ve excused myself, thanked him for the help, and left. But I didn’t.
“These are amazing, Austin.” I examine the Lego Batmobile. “How long did it take you?”
“That one took a couple of days. I usually just work on them a little here and there.”
When he told me about the Lego thing, I didn’t think his room was going to be filled with nerdy things and toys littered about the floor. I did expect something like that, but other than the Legos, his room is pristine. His bedsheets are black and blue, white walls, and bookshelves lining the walls. There’s an abstract poster on the wall. It doesn’t look like anything in particular but adds a splash of orange and red color to the room. As a matter of fact, the entire apartment is like that. The living room is clean and orderly, with a large, dark brown leather couch and a large screen TV in the corner.
“It’s cool, Austin.”
He laughs. “I think you mean nerdy.”
“Yes, nerdy.” I giggle. “But cool, too.”
My stomach grumbles, and my eyes widen. I look up at him, hoping he didn’t hear it. He did. “Okay, someone’s hungry.”
I can feel my cheeks burning in embarrassment. “No, I’m good.”
“Yeah, right.” He grabs my hand, pulling me out of the room to the living room. “See what’s on Netflix. We’ve got a frozen pizza I can pop in the oven.”
“Oh,” I elongate the word, smiling. He turns and stares at me, unsure. “Austin, are you asking me to Netflix and chill?”
It takes everything in my power to not laugh. He freezes in place, and his face drops. His eyes jump everywhere in the apartment except for on me, and he starts to turn bright pink. “Oh. No, I … I didn’t mean … Um, we can just—”
“I’m kidding.” I can’t hold it in anymore. I start laughing and plop down on the couch, grabbing the remote. “What kind of pizza?”
“Pepperoni.”
“Sounds great.”
As I turn on the TV, my eyes are drawn to an acoustic guitar sitting off in the corner that I noticed when I first came in. Setting down the remote, I get up and pick up the guitar, lightly strumming the strings. It’s out of tune, so I adjust the tuners, picking at the strings to make sure they sound right. I don’t know what I’m feeling, but I remember the song I started singing when Lily walked into the studio.
Humming the tune, my fingers glide over the strings, and I close my eyes. I feel the rhythm take over and bob my head a little more, thinking about being free. Being happy. I start to vocalize the lyrics without words, picking up the beat. The smile stays on my face, and I finish the song, ending with one last strum of the strings.
“That was …” Austin’s words break me from the song. He’s leaning in the kitchen doorway, and I see the same expression on him I’ve seen before. Joy. “Amazing.”
“It was okay.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Jade, I don’t think you know how great you are.” I see his Adam’s apple bob up and down. His eyes dart around the apartment. “I mean, uh, you and the Kings. You guys are great. But your voice, Jade? The music I hear you create?” A calmness takes over him, and his eyes land on mine. “It’s beautiful.”
Now I know I’m blushing. Breaking his gaze, I look down at the guitar. Then I hear him chuckle, and the couch slumps as he takes a seat next to me.
“Of course, you could use some work with the strings.”
It forces a laugh out of me. “Is that right, music teacher?
“I mean, you do usually play bass.” Putting his arm around me, he puts his free hand on the guitar. “Plus, your rhythm could use a little help.”
“Wow. Okay, show me how it’s done.”
His fingers beat against the wood, bobbing back and forth. It’s funny and cute, and I smile with his other arm around me still. “See? Feel the rhythm.”
I start strumming the strings on the neck. Without my other hand picking at the strings, it feels off, and the rhythm doesn’t really sound right, making me laugh. “Like this?”
