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Maybe it’s his that lured me out, made me dare to skim my own.
“Did you write that?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Just fucking around.”
I nod.
A beat passes, then he asks, “You play?”
“Piano,” I croak. “I used to at least. It’s been a while…” Inhaling, I shake my head and say, “But I know a little guitar.”
He rolls his lips together, and turns his attention back to the fingers framing chords over the frets. But he doesn’t strum again.
Wetting my lips, I say, “It’s yours?”
Another short nod, brown hair a couple shades darker than mine, hanging over his eyes.
“Do you think I…” My fingers curl restlessly against my thighs, twisting in the thick black fabric of my sweats.
Whereas Shawn wears a long-sleeved shirt, I wear an old band tee. It’s white, with the Breaking Benjamin Celtic knot logo plastered across the front in faded, chipped black.
He stills.
“I just…I haven’t played in so long.”
An ache rises in my throat, swelling it, thickening my words.
“I didn’t even…miss it, ’til now.”
Unreadable, yet hard eyes lift to mine. “This is all I have.”
I blink, my lips parting.
Scowling, he holds the guitar more securely. As if he can’t help himself, his fingers start to move, and he starts strumming. At first, it’s a song I recognize, but it quickly shifts to that one he was playing before—the one that spurred on dreams of music notes, and carried me out here.
Like it’s bugging him…like there’s something there he’s trying to reach by playing it, but he can’t figure out what it is.
“I think…I think I know what comes next.”
His fingers still.
“I’ll give it right back, I swear.”
His dark gaze lifts to mine once more, reluctance and wariness edged around his eyes and mouth.
I flit a glance down to where his sleeve hides the bracelet I know is likely still there, before returning my gaze to his.
“I swear on the life of the girl who I’m pretty damn certain gave you that bracelet I’ll be careful and give it right back.”
Some expression works across his face. Shock, maybe…but also something else. Something that makes me wonder if he knew who I was all along, even before I told him I have the same one.
A long moment passes, before he finally, finally nods.
Crossing my legs, I wait for him to extend the guitar.
I’m careful to take it without getting anywhere near him.
It’s warm and light in my hands, and my chest rises, heart rate quickening as I run my hands over it, tracing its shape.
