Page 75 of The Painter and His Poet

I don’t immediately begin to play, I just allow my mind to clear and take a few deep breaths before I arrange my fingers into a familiar chord pattern. Once my nerves have settled a little, I begin to play, tentatively at first, but as I continue a deep sense of comfort settles around me and I let the notes roll through my fingers, playing the chords without thinking too much about it. The rhythm flows with surprising ease, and soon enough, my hands find the familiar pattern of a song I used to love to play:Your Songby Elton John.

I glance over my shoulder at Blake, whose gaze is locked on the movement of my fingers.

“Not bad for rusty,” he smiles, his voice low, almost in awe.

I smile, though it’s more to myself than for him as I continue to play the familiar tune. “I guess it’s like riding a bike. Once your muscle memory is triggered it all just comes back to you.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze to his own hands as he begins to play the guitar alongside me. His talent is raw and honest in a way that makes my pulse quicken in admiration.

For the next few minutes we continue to play together, and with every moment that passes I feel this rush of joy unfurling inside of me. A joy I haven’t felt in a long time. It feels so good that I start humming to the melody, and when I look up at Blake he mouthssing, so I begin to sing, the

words slipping from my lips in a husky whisper. My voice is soft at first, then when I begin to feel more comfortable, I let myself go and really sing.

And God, it’s freeing.

It feels so good.

Every now and then, I glance up at Blake who could rival the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland with his perfectly wide, white-toothed grin. His enthusiasm gives me confidence, and I return his smile with one of my own, loving the warmth blooming inside my chest from happiness. Singing and playing the piano is a joyous experience for me.

It's an expression of who I truly am.

And I miss it.

Eventually, the song comes to an end, and I’m left with the soft echo of the last chord lingering in the air. “That was nice,” I say softly, resting my hands in my lap.

“Nice?” His eyes widen as he leans a shoulder against the piano. “I was thinking more along the lines ofincredible.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “It wasn’tthatgreat. But I appreciate your kindness.”

“You’re selling yourself short, Harlow. You play like a professional, and you sure as fuck sing like you were born to do it. Damn, girl!” he exclaims, blowing out a breath. “No wonder Ben got a hard-on for you. You’re the shit!”

“A hard-on? Now don’t start spreading rumours, jackass, this one’s taken,” a familiar voice says as Blake’s head snaps up towards the door, and I look over my shoulder to see Ben stepping inside the shop.

Taken?My cheeks heat.

“Of course she is,” Blake mutters.

“How are you doing, Harlow? I see you’ve found the bassist of Princetown Bandits.”

“I’m good, thanks, and yes, Blake and I were just…” My voice trails off as I stand, suddenly feeling more than a little awkward as he glances between us both. Not that there’s anything going on whatsoever given we’ve only just met, and he’s too young, and I’m more than a little attracted to someone else entirely.

“Jamming together,” Blake interjects. “You were right, Harlow sure is talented.”

“Told you,” Ben agrees with a grin, before focusing his attention on me. “You know the offer still stands. I’d love for you to play at the bar. In fact the Princetown Bandits are gonna be playing some gigs in London soon, and I don’t have anyone to replace them, so you’ll be doing me a favour if you’d consider stepping in at least for one night.”

“Fuck, yes!” Blake agrees.

“Oh no, I couldn’t,” I reply, shaking my head.

“Why?” Blake asks, removing his guitar and placing it on a stand. “You’ll blow everyone’s minds with that voice of yours.”

“I don’t know. It’s… I just… You really think I should?” I find myself asking.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Blake says, shoving his hair off his face and grinning.

“The punters would love you,” Ben adds in encouragement.

“Come on, say you will. What have you got to lose?” Blake asks as Ben looks at me expectedly.

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