Page 31 of One More Time
‘Wanna hear a song?’ he asked.
‘Yes!’ she screamed.
‘Good,’ he replied, pulling a little chair out from against the wall. It had a slightly damp bath towel draped over it, which seemed as good a cushion as anything. He sat down and pulled the guitar out of its case.
Lucy sat up on the bed, still gloriously naked. She hadn’t even bothered to get under the covers or put a shirt on or anything. And he was beyond fucking thankful. And amazed. And humbled. Though, he had to focus on tuning the guitar and not looking at her tits because he was already chubbing up again.
She reached over and shut off the stereo, then waggled her ass deeper into the comforter. She crossed her legs and rested her elbows on her knees, excitement on her pretty face.
With the guitar on his bare knee, and probably too much enthusiasm, he played Lucy Rollins a song he’d been working on. He’d been calling it ‘Rain Delay’ but didn’t know if that would stick. Truthfully, he didn’t know if any of it would stick. But he played it anyway, managed to sing without dropping the tempo or any notes. Remembered all the lyrics he’d just finished two nights before.
When the last chord drifted off, he finally found the courage to look up at her.
‘Holy shit, Nicky. That was fuckinggreat,’ she said. With awe. With amazement. The truth?
‘Yeah? You don’t have to say that just because you want my dick again.’
‘Ha!’ she tutted. ‘Trust me, if I didn’t like it … well, I might not tell you because your dickispretty great. But I would’ve said something like. “Oh, that was nice” or, I don’t know …’ She stopped to think. ‘Maybe something like “your fingering was very accomplished.”’
‘My fingeringisvery accomplished,’ he said with a wink.
‘I meant the guitar, you horndog.’
‘Sure, you did.’
‘Come to think of it, I might have just said, “Touch my tits,” to distract you from my non-answer.’
He laughed, but she continued on. ‘Nicky.’ Her voice more serious. ‘I really mean it. That song isgood. Like, put it on the radio good. Do you play for people? Like bars and whatnot?’
‘The whatnot thing, for sure.’ According to his dad the guitar wasn’t practical. Wouldn’t get him into college. Wouldn’t ever pay the bills. So instead of trying to make a few bucks playing for people somewhere, he spent all his free time working in a damn diner.
Her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. Her head tilted to one side as she asked, ‘Got any more?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Play ’em,’ she demanded.
She smiled at him, and that was all it took. He strummed out another song, and then another.
And somewhere in the middle there, with Lucy Rollins listening to him – really listening – and moving her toes in perfect time, he was finally able to breathe.
It was like he could suddenly see that maybe the weight that he’d been feeling in his chest all year wasn’t actually drowning. Maybe it was just the pressure of expectations and intentions and fuckingpotentialthat his dad had been piling on since senior year started. The weight wasn’tinsidehim. It wasn’t doubt from within him. It had been on the outside all along. He could peel it off and finally fucking breathe.
It wasn’t like Lucy gave him permission to let go of all the bullshit. It was more like she gave him confirmation. Dreams are fragile things, easily destroyed by doubt and conflict. Sometimes it’s easier to convince yourself you’re crazy than it is to convince yourself to take a chance.
Nicky sang out the last note of a song, and Lucy leaned back on her elbows, stretched her legs out, crossing them at the ankles.
She said, ‘Look, I’m not an expert by any means. I don’t know the first thing about the music business. Not really. But to my ear, those arerealsongs. Like, you could have strummed out some bullshit to me and I think I would know the difference. A terrible song is a terrible song, right? There are plenty of those on the radio, too. I think I could tell. But what you played me was not terrible. Not even close.’
Nicky tossed his guitar in the case, then kicked it aside. He jumped on the bed, making Lucy’s whole body pop up and land back on the mattress.
He pulled her into his lap.
‘You’re going to be here all summer?’ Nicky asked her, with that stupid grin plastered all over his face again.
‘Yeah.’
‘Then so am I.’
