Page 38 of Take My Hand

“That one was from our first tour, wasn’t it?” Nikolai asks, squinting at it from the doorway.

I nod. “Sure is. I’m honestly shocked it’s still in one piece.”

“The strings are so thick. Aren’t they hard to strum?” Carter asks.

“You don’t play a bass similar to how you would a guitar. On a guitar, yes, you strum it. But on a bass,” I explain, walking across the room and pulling the jet black instrument off the wall to show her. “You pluck the strings. Like this.” I set my foot on the coffee table in the center of the room and rest the bass on my knee, demonstrating for her.

“Your hand lies slightly flatter and your fingers move separately from each other more than they typically would when you’re playing guitar, and would have a pick.”

Carter leans closer, watching my fingers move over the strings, her scent enveloping me. She smells like citrus and something fresh, like the air at the beach in the mornings. I close my eyes for a moment, letting it wash over me.

“You know if you’d like to learn how to play, I’m a good teacher,” Nikolai says, popping the little bubble we created. I peer over my shoulder at him to find him leaning against the doorframe, smirking at us.

“I think if anyone should be teaching her how to play the bass, it should be the bass player,” I retort.

“Who said anything about the bass?”

Carter chokes and takes a step back. “I’m good, thank you.”

Nikolai shrugs, and I hang the instrument back on the wall before heading out to the main area. I give him a dirty look as I pass by, to which he just smiles at me, blue eyes alight with mischief.

I show Carter the theater room and the bar area; not much work needing to be done in either of those. I don’t entertain enough to get any real use out of the bar, but I like to play video games on the big screen in the theater space.

Just as I’m about to wrap the tour up and head upstairs, a loud gasp rings out behind me and I whip around. But the look on Carter’s face isn’t one of fear.

It’s awe.

She walks to the furthest end of the right side of the house, where I have a large, open space that only holds a chaise lounge chair and a small end table with a stack of decorative books on it.

“This is beautiful,” she breathes out, hand over her chest, looking around, and I know she’s not talking about the items adorning the space. The room has three walls completely made up of windows so it’s bursting with natural light. And with the sun hanging high in the sky, the room is bright and glowing.

While she admires the room and the view of the city, my eyes are glued to her, admiring the way she lights up the space impossibly brighter. The sun shines over her hair, highlighting the light strands until they look as if they’re glowing.

“So much natural lighting,” she muses, and as her eyes scan every inch, I can almost hear the click click click of a camera going off in her head.

I lean against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest, content to watch her as long as she’s willing. Her lean legs eat up the length of the room as she gets right up against one of the window panes and stares out at the rolling hills.

The view she’s seeing is great, but I don’t like it nearly as much as the view I have right now.

“Sorry.” She turns around suddenly, cheeks flushed. “I kind of zoned out there for a minute.”

“No need to apologize. I love seeing someone appreciate the space.” Then I correct myself, “I love seeing you appreciate the space.”

Her eyes flare at my words and she bites the inside of her cheek. “You truly have a photographer's dream room right here. This is the perfect portrait space.”

“Your pictures you sent over this morning to us were sick,” Nikolai says to her, causing me to jump slightly. He rests a reassuring hand on my shoulder for a moment. I had forgotten he was still here.

“I’m glad you liked them. You guys played a great show.”

Carter had sent over a carousel of photos to the guys and Arun for us to post on our socials. And Nikolai’s right; they are great. Not that I’d expect anything less. She got some of the entire band and stage, but also individual shots, with some really sick ones of Walker from behind his kit, the photo taken at his back so you see him frozen in motion with the crowd in the background.

“I’m biased, but I would have to say you obviously got the best shots of me.” Nikolai runs a hand through his hair. “But it’s easy to take a great photo when you have such a beautiful subject to shoot.”

I smack a hand into his chest. “I’m shocked these windows don’t burst open with your ego crowding the room.”

He holds his hands out to his sides as if to say, what can I say?

“They were really great pictures,” I say to Carter. “The one you got of Nikolai and Reid back-to-back playing their guitars was one of the best shots I think you’ve done.”

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