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“Not a problem,” he says, sitting on the ground at my feet. I resist the urge to reach out and stroke his hair. “Think you’ll be up for a little field trip today? I want to show you something.”
Your gorgeous cock?“What is it?”
“You’ll like it,” he promises.
Right now, there’s only one thing I’d like, and I’m on the verge of begging for it, just as he’d predicted.
“It’s not far,” he says, “but wear comfortable shoes. And bring Old Susannah.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why will I need my guitar?”
He stands, reaching out for my hands to pull me to my feet. When our fingertips meet, it sends a shockwave through my body. I bite my tongue to keep from shouting, “For the love of Chef Boyardee, fuck me already!”
After tying my sneakers, I grab Old Susannah and follow Hamlet.
“Want me to carry the guitar?” he asks.
I’m touched by the offer, but decline. “She may as well be an extension of my arm,” I tell him.
He nods, leading me to an unmarked trail that I hadn’t noticed before. It’s covered in orange, yellow, and red leaves, but it’s obviously a well-used trail, if you know where to find it.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask.
“To my very favorite spot in Mercury Ridge. I have a feeling you’ll find it inspiring.”
It’s another Fairy Princess moment.
Hamlet’s been pampering me like crazy since he got home. I’m not sure why he’s been so kind, but I’ve never felt more special. He makes breakfast, gives me space to write in the mornings, and then makes me laugh in the afternoons. At night, he stacks blankets on the sofa for me before going to his room.Alone. Always alone.
And now, he’s showing me his favorite place in the world.
Don’t go thinking you’re special. He’s probably brought hundreds of girls to his special place.
“Do you bring many women up here?” I try to keep my voice neutral and casual.
Hamlet stops walking, turning to face me. “I’ve never brought anyone here. Not even my siblings. I may be the only human on earth to know it exists, and I want to share it with you.”
I take an involuntary step in his direction, ready to fling myself into his arms, but he turns back to the trail, walking even faster now. After a few more minutes, he stops, turning to grin at me.
I stare at the side of the mountain, confused. Then I see a section that looks like it’s been scooped out with a giant melon baller. “It’s a cave!”
Taking my hand, he leads me inside. It’s not a very big cave, roughly the size of a living room, with very tall ceilings. But it’s magnificent.
“Sing,” he says, “the acoustics are great.”
I stare at him blankly. “You brought me here to sing?”
He nods. “Trust me. You’ll love it.”
I belt a note, crisp as a Golden Delicious apple. Then I laugh, and the sound bounces back to me from the stone walls.He’s right. The acoustics are great.
I place the guitar case on the ground and reverently take out Old Susannah. This cave feels sacred somehow, almost like a church. So, I strum a few bars on the guitar, and then I singAmazing Grace.I let the music fill every cell in my body, and then send my voice into the universe.
It’s the first time I’ve let Hamlet really hear my voice, and his eyes grow wider and wider as the song goes on. When I’ve finished, he claps his hands.
“Wow,” he breathes. “You’re going to be a star, Annie. You really are.”
The compliment gives me that warm, hot-chocolatey feeling that I long to capture with my lyrics.
