Page 84 of Rock On

“You won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He kissed me. “As much as it kills me to admit this, my knee hurts like a motherfucker right now.”

I quickly got off him, looking down with a grimace. “Oh, did I hurt you? I’m sorry.”

“No, it was just sore from sitting in that position for too long.”

“I bet I know what would help,” I said, holding out my hands to him.

“Are we going to fuck again?”

I laughed. “Yes, but that’s not what I had in mind. That soaker tub in the bathroom looks like it would fit us perfectly.”

“Now that sounds like fun.”

“Let me go run it.”

“And then I’m going to grab my guitar and play you something.”

“You mentioned that you’ve been playing guitar again,” I called as I padded into the bathroom to run the bath. “Have you been doing that since you’ve been here?”

“I brought one with me and I’ve been writing since I got here.”

“You never really wrote solo before. What changed?” I turned on the water and then walked back out to the room.

“Not usually, no, but I’ve been playing guitar a lot more. As a whole, the band has been trying to switch things up once in a while. King plays piano more, Kellan sings, and me on guitar, stuff like that. I thought maybe I’d try to play rhythm on one song for this tour.”

“You have a great voice,” I said. “Not like King’s, but still strong enough to sing one or two.”

“Yeah, we’ve talked about that too. Anyway, listen to this and tell me what you think.” He sat in a nearby chair, still butt naked, and reached for an acoustic guitar I hadn’t notice before now.

There’s nothing on the ground, just you and me

We’re laying down our prints, so everyone can see

We’re at the top of the world, workin’ on what’s free

That’s everything I need, baby, just you and me.

Was he singing to me?

Had he written this about me?

I was rooted in place as I continued to watch and listen.

I’d once thought there was nothing sexier than Tommy behind the drums, but I might have been wrong. Because there was nothing sexier than Tommy, naked, strumming a guitar and singing just for me.

Watching his long fingers move over the strings strangely erotic, and the muscles in his biceps flexed whenever he moved. It was sensual and intimate, just like him, and all I could do was stand there and drink it in, still wondering when he’d written this song and if it had been about me.

Did you see me try?

I couldn’t find the words

To show you what it takes

To cover up a lie.

---