Page 35 of Talk Nerdy To Me
“Damn, it’s loud, but it sounds fucking amazing. He really is in the zone. No wonder he’s avoiding our calls today,” Sticks says, closing his eyes as a smile spreads over his lips. “Most people wouldn’t be so cool with him doing this,” he goes on, his eyes opening and seeming to regard me carefully as I lead him toward Base’s room.
The music grows louder with each step we draw closer.
“I’m weird too,” I tell him, causing his smile to return.
When we push open the door, there Base Masters is. The small silver hoop seems out of place on his bottom lip, since I’ve never seen him wearing it before. However, like every other detail of his lips, I have noticed the very small piercing holes.
My eyes are also raking over his tribal arm tattoos, because as usual, he’s shirtless. His eyes are closed, and a smirk is on his lips as he plays, seemingly oblivious to our intrusion.
His hair is damp, and his skin has a hint of a shine to it, like he’s been exhausting himself. All of his muscles are flexed as he makes the guitar scream or sing or whatever they call it.
“Holy…shit…” The words Sticks says are almost lost over the music, and I look over to see his eyes searching the walls that are full of musical notes, some of which I’ve recently started learning, via the internet.
Though the playing part is not quite so simplistic. My hand-eye coordination doesn’t cooperate.
Several lines of random song lyrics are scattered amongst the walls, having no obvious order.
“Yo!” Sticks shouts just as Base lingers on what seems to be the last note.
Base’s eyes fly open, and an easy grin forms when he sees me and winks. His gaze flicks back to Sticks.
“How long you been standing there?” he asks him, as he starts removing the guitar and twisting knobs on the amplifier.
“Long enough to see why you’ve holed up in this poor girl’s guest room without warning, and started writing all over her walls like this is your place instead of hers.”
Base just grins broader. “I told her she’d have to tell me when she wanted me gone, and I’ll paint over all of it before I go.” When his eyes find mine again, those weird little butterflies erupt, finally making me understand that concept after redundantly hearing the figure of speech. “She hasn’t told me to leave.”
Sticks just grunts a comment I miss as he moves farther into the room to read some of the lyrics. Base’s eyes stay on me, which I notice from my peripheral, because I’m pretending not to be awkward as I strain to focus on Sticks.
“Living life without lies or regrets, comes at the price of having no secrets,” Sticks says, grinning as he looks over his shoulder at Base. “I want to hear the rest of that with the music.”
“Later. It’s not finished,” Base answers, finally looking away from me as he grabs a notebook and hands it to Sticks.
When Sticks eyes widen, he says, “That’s ten songs. You’re saying—”
“I’m saying I have enough already for a new album, and I have even more to write. I also haven’t gotten out the more complex ones. So fuck off until I’m dried up or she finally realizes I’m a nutcase and kicks me out.”
Sticks laughs under his breath, his eyes flicking to the walls full of candid shots Base has taken of me with his Polaroid during this past week when I’ve shared tidbits of thoughts with him.
Most of the images have been reduced down to only my eyes, but a lot of them have my full face.
“If she hasn’t figured out you’re insane by now, I think it’s safe to say you’re in the clear,” Sticks tells him while clapping his shoulder, then grimaces before wiping his hand on his pants. “Dude, take a fucking shower. Then get dressed. You’re getting out before you start really losing touch.”
“I’m good,” Base tells him, waving him off as he goes to scribble on the wall.
Sticks casts a look over to me, then gestures like he’s prompting me to speak or something.
“You should shower,” I tell him, even though he doesn’t stink.
I’m tempted to take a picture of him for a change, because he possibly looks the sexiest he’s looked yet. Or my hormones are simply raging. One or the other.
Sticks covers his mouth and turns as his shoulders shake. Base looks over his shoulder at me, eyebrows up as he grins.
“Fine. I’ll take a shower. But I’m only going out if my muse does. I’m staying in the zone, so it’s her space or her presence.”
Sticks turns a clear, expectant look toward me. “What d’you say, Britt Sterling? Can you handle a Friday night out? And do you have a fake ID?”
“I have fake IDs,” I tell him, finally grateful for those.
