Page 63 of Keep It

We’ve stayed at the hotel a few times, mostly if the location is closer, anything to be alone as soon as possible. It’s like the minute the door closes, shrouding us in privacy, we can finally be ourselves.

Today, after waking up with his arms wrapped around me and legs tangled together, we’re spread out in the living room. I’m pretending to read a book whilst Danny fiddles with Claudette’s battered acoustic guitar. The minute I forced it into his arms, I watched him come alive. He’s spent all our time off-set with either me or that guitar in his arms. I would be jealous if I wasn’t so turned on. I’ve never been into musicians and I’ve never been into famous rich boys. But I’m apparentlyveryinto Danny Covington.

I read the same sentence ten times, my mind falling instead on Danny’s fingers teasing the guitar, the music he’s playing preventing me from thinking of anything else.

He starts playing the refrain of a familiar song but I can’t quite remember the name.

“Wait, what is this?” I ask.

He grins and keeps playing, not giving me an answer.

He keeps playing, and hums along with the melody.

Suddenly it clicks. I gasp, “Ah that’s socheesy,” I wail as I finally recognize the songOur Last Summer.

Danny cackles and I throw the cushion from behind my head at him. He catches it with a laugh and my hands itch to grab a camera and immortalize the moment.

He grabs the cushion and rests his guitar on the floor. He crosses over to the couch I’m draped across and lightly drops the cushion on my face.

I lift my head so he’s able to sit beneath me and I lay my head in his lap.

“When will you play outside?” I ask, looking up at him.

“I had the window open,” he says as he starts to play with my hair.

“You know what I mean,” I say looking up at him.

He’s silent for a moment. “I like this, playing for you, making you smile. It’s enough.” He gently tugs at my bottom lip trying to distract me.

He should share his gift with the world and he knows it. “For now,” I say, dropping it, pressing a kiss to the thumb resting against my lips.

“For now,” he promises as he leans down and replaces his hand with his mouth. I reach up and grab the back of his head to keep him with me, and all thoughts of anything else disappear.

“Play me another.” I tug on his earlobe.

“I should have never told you I can play. I feel like a jukebox,” Danny says dramatically.

I laugh and sit up on my knees on the couch. “Come on, just one more song.”

“I have a better idea.” He leans towards me for a kiss, trailing his hand along my thigh. I lean my head back as he presses a kiss to my neck and his hand creeps higher. Ignoring the spark in my belly, I grab his hand. “Please.”

Danny laughs, “Fine, freckles.”

I smile as he fetches his guitar and settles back next to me. “Any requests?” he asks, as he starts to strum a mindless refrain that fills the room with magic.

There is no question what I want to hear, “One of yours.” I rest my head on my hand.

His fingers still over the strings. “Pass, pick again.”

“I want a Danny Covington original.”

“Anya,” Danny groans.

“Please.”

He looks at me with a sigh, “Okay, but no laughing.”

“As if.”

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