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A week later
"I heard you impressed Mister Washington," Claire said, letting herself in once Logan opened the door.
"Oh, yeah, come on in," he said sarcastically, closing the door behind her.
"Cal came into the diner earlier talking about his dad being in a good mood because he finally hired somebody who can lift more than twenty pounds."
"Yeah, today was my second day."
"How is it having to get there so early?"
"It's fine. I like those hours before anyone else gets there. Mister Washington doesn’t even come in until eight."
"What do you do before he gets there?"
"I empty the trashcans and clean the bathrooms," he said. "He gives me three hours to get all of that done, and it takes me about half that time if I work hard and fast. Then I work on other things until he gets there."
"What things?" she asked, sitting on the end of his bed and looking at his guitar, which was resting in its open case. "Music?"
"Yeah. What are you doing up here?" he asked, even though she had randomly come to visit him several times in the last week.
"I just got off work downstairs, and I wanted to come up here and have you play for me."
"Play what?" he asked.
She gestured at the guitar. "Your new song."
"I told you I will soon. I'm going to a music store when I get my first paycheck."
She grinned at him. "Who needs groceries," she said, making him laugh.
"I'll stop at the grocery store after I get a guitar," he said. "First things first. I'll get a guitar, and then do a night of busking for grocery money. I'm only working mornings with Mister Washington, so my nights are free."
"Yeah, but I thought you weren't going busking yet."
"I need a guitar, and I also need groceries. One night of busking won't kill me. And I won't have to make very much. I'm good with eating ramen and frozen burritos for two weeks until I get another paycheck."
"The thing I was wondering was… when do I finally get to hear a song?" She swiveled to lie back on his bed and absentmindedly played with a ponytail holder, shooting it into the air before trying to catch it. It fell through her fingers, and landed on her face, causing her to flinch.
He laughed at her. "You're so weird," he said.
Claire knew he was being lighthearted when he said it. She knew he secretly liked it that she came upstairs to check on him every time she came to work. They had become friends during the last week, and Logan calling her weird was only a byproduct of how comfortable they were together.
"I got you a guitar," she said out of nowhere.
"What do you mean, you found one for sale?"
"Yeah, and I went ahead and bought it, too. I was shopping at an estate sale, and I asked the lady if she had any guitars. She didn't, but her grandson had a collection, and he didn't mind parting with one."
"Is it an acoustic?"
"Yeah, of course. I know that’s what you play."
"Wh-what brand? When do I get to see it?" he asked excitedly. "And how much does he want for it?"
"Three hundred, and he told me it was a steal—that he paid more than twice that much for it. It seems really nice. I went to his house and saw his collection. It's immaculate. I think I got a really good deal. He didn't have your Fender-Martin mix, though. I asked him about it. He had never seen it. I gave him my number and told him I was looking for it if he ever came across it."
"Thank you for doing that," Logan said.
