Page 69 of Saints & Sailors

It was only the first of November. I wasn’t sure what my mindset would be by my birthday, but for the time being, I needed to work on my second chance.

Angela was nice enough to let me in when I knocked on her door an hour later. She must’ve sensed my slight gloom as she took in my appearance.

“Dreux’s up in his room,” she told me before walking away toward their TV room.

Scott was back home, watching a film on TV, but he gave me the go ahead to slip out to go over to Dreux’s. We’d called a cease fire, Scott and me. I wasn’t sure how I felt toward him completely, and I was too tired to try to put it together.

So I found myself going up to Dreux’s room to distract myself.

He was sitting back against his headboard with his guitar across his lap.

His bedroom walls were coated in a dark gray paint, and only a lone portrait hung up, a motivational one for breast cancer.

I admired that about Dreux, his love for his mother.

I owed mine an apology. For all the shit I put her through and for not even taking her calls while I was in town. I took for granted how much she’d been through—Scott leaving and her own father overstepping his boundary with her. She was incredibly strong, except when it came to me. I owed her more than I could ever repay, I realized.

Tonight, though, all that would wait. I was too drained for another heavy conversation.

Dreux spotted me and eyed me curiously as I approached him. He said nothing as I climbed on his bed and soon laid my head on his shoulder.

This friendship between us was new, too, but a part of me felt like I needed it.

“You have that talk with Scott?” he asked me.

I nodded.

“How’d it go?”

Instead of focusing on the question, I took in his guitar. “Can you even play?”

Dreux poked me in my side before positioning himself better with his instrument. With his fingers in place, he paused, thinking to himself.

I was just about to give out a recommendation when he began strumming the strings.

It took me a minute, but I soon recognized the tune to belong to the Foo Fighters.

Dreux kept playing and I started singing along to “Everlong.”

Getting lost in the melody and lyrics erased some of the tension I was feeling. It was peaceful and calming after the afternoon that I’d had.

Dreux played the last note and soon set the guitar aside, peering down at me quizzically. “Yo, you’re good.”

“Speak for yourself, you played like a pro,” I said.

Dreux disregarded my comment. “I mean it, you’ve got a good voice. I guess music runs in your family.”

After all that I’d learned from Scott, I wasn’t surprised, but curious. “You really think I sound all right?”

Dreux smiled big as he nodded. “Hell yeah. Your voice and my playing, we could do our own YouTube channel.”

My mood lifted as I fought a laugh. “Yeah? What would we call it?”

Dreux began to think it over. “The Bedroom Sessions.”

He was being so cheesy, but it was okay, because I needed it.

“You’re such a dork, Dreux St. Julien,” I announced with faux exasperation.