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"The drop does scare me," I said when I stopped tickling her.
Noah craned her head to meet my gaze.
"But I don't want that fear to get in the way of my happiness for you," I continued. "You're so high on the leaderboard. It's incredible progress. I'm proud of you."
Her eyes light up before they got misty, and I frowned at the reaction.
"Are you…Did I say the wrong thing?" I asked.
"No, you were great. That was sweet." She wiped the corners of her eye and sat up straighter so she could get a better handle on her tears. "And exactly what I needed to hear."
"Need anything else?" I had a few hours before I planned to head to the hospital.
Noah pulled back to look at me. "Yeah, actually."
I raised a brow.
"Can you play that?" She pointed to the guitar.
"Umm." I rocked my head back and forth. "Kind of."
"Can you play it for me? Like, right now?"
I made a face as I scratched the top of my head. "I…I don't know if you want that. I'm not very good, and by not very, I mean not at all."
"Please. I'm sure you're great. I love the sound of an acoustic guitar and I want to hear you play." She pouted, and I couldn't resist kissing her bottom lip.
"You're too cute to deny," I murmured against her before giving her one more kiss. "But please, don't be too disappointed."
She clapped prematurely as I got off the bed. Before grabbing the guitar, I went to my dresser to pull on an oversized tee.
I was and still was a serial hobby abandoner. Every year, I got it in my mind that I was going to live a healthy life, one full of activities that didn't involve my career. Art as a job could get complicated because of how much it intersected with my emotional well-being. Unfortunately, nothing else stuck. I wasn't patient enough to become good at anything that didn't have to do with drawing.
"Can I make a request?" Noah asked as she moved to the edge of the bed, swinging her legs off the side. "It's from this game called The Last of–"
"I only know one song, Pastel." I held up a finger. "One. That's all you get."
She sighed but nodded. "Maybe you can learn it later?"
"Not likely."
"Someone's a party pooper," she said under her breath.
"Silence, please. Genius like what you're about to witness needs silence."
Noah snorted as I picked up the guitar and pretended to be interested in moving the knobs at the end of the neck.
"You good?" Noah asked when I spent a little more time stalling.
I cleared my throat. "Yup. All good."
She smiled and rubbed her hands together, like she was getting ready to witness a masterpiece.
"This is a little song I like to call…Hot Crossed Buns," I said. "Sing along if you know it."
Noah's smile gradually faded as I started playing. I didn't remember which strings correlated to which notes, so the song ended up being more of a remix. When I tried to sing a few lines, fully committed to the bit, Noah placed her hands on her cheeks.
"You're not singing," I noted halfway through the song.
