“Why?” he asked, his tone slightly lower. Why? Was he serious?
I spoke truthfully. “Um, probably because you’ve never really spared my feelings…ever.”
He nodded, agreeing with me. “Okay, how about this? I won’t say a word. But I only think it’s fair that we work together; otherwise, it’s just like you’re judging me from afar all while trying to teach me.”
I threw my hands up in the air. “You literally play for millions of people who judge you constantly! Nice try. And I’m not really “teaching” you to write music. I’m here to bounce ideas off of, to collaborate with.”
He paused and grinned, that small dip in my stomach turning into a gaping hole. “Do you play for your students?”
Ah, shit. He got me there.
I blew air out of my mouth and stomped away. Fine. Reid King wanted me to hold his freaking hand while he tried to come up with a catchy tune? Then so be it. It wasn’t like I needed his approval anyway. I wasn’t trying to gain his respect or really cared about his opinion. He was rude and broody most days, so who gave a flying shit?
Not me.
I snagged my guitar after walking down the small hallway past the bunks, my quick and brash movements showing off just how irritated I was. Finn and Jackson looked at me for a second and then to my guitar before smiling. I gave them a pointed look and asked, “Has he always been stubborn?”
Both of them nodded and then threw their heads back and laughed.
I rolled my eyes and stomped back into the room where Reid was sitting all nice and comfortable, with his guitar in his strong arms, leaning back onto the propped pillows. For one second—and I mean one tiny second—I pictured him in only his worn jeans, holding his guitar, playing a song.
My mouth went dry.
“You’re annoying,” I spat, sitting down on the bed, cross-legged, with my old, wood-barren guitar resting in my arms. It was more like I was annoyed with myself for noticing how brazenly attractive he was on the bed with his guitar, but whatever.
He smiled, showing off all his straight teeth, and I was certain, right then, that I’d died.
“Why don’t you come out into the crowd for the shows?”
After reviving myself, I peeked up at Reid. I placed my fingers where I wanted them on my trusty, ten-year-old guitar and asked, “Like, out in the actual crowd? With the girls throwing their bras at you? No thanks.”
“But it’s so much better down there.”
I laughed softly, pulling my hair to one side. “How do you know? You’re up onstage playing.”
He casually lifted a shoulder, putting his attention back on his guitar. He looked so relaxed in that moment, his unruly dark locks naturally falling over his forehead. His shoulders untensed, his arms looking as light as feathers. “You should try it next show. Go down into the crowd. Take the first row or something. I bet you’d like it more.”
I thought for a moment, and then a devil-like grin slithered onto my face. “Who said I liked your show to begin with?”
Reid shook his head, but I could see the small smile creep on his face, even if he was trying to hide it.
Before he could say anything equally as snarky, I said, “If you come up with a tune tonight, I’ll do it at tomorrow’s show.”
He flicked his eyes up to mine almost instantly, the deep amber color glittering in the dim light. “Deal.”
I nodded my head once before taking a deep breath and gulping. My gulp was loud, like an actual cartoon character gulping as Wile E. Coyote chased them, and then I slowly started to strum my fingers over the strings on my guitar. I could feel Reid watching me, no doubt judging me. The tune I was strumming was nothing special. My fingers moved over familiar strings, fiddling over an E chord, then a G, back to a B, and so on. I wasn’t creating an actual line of music, just showing him that I, too, could play a little bit so that maybe he’d shut up and start working on his own tunes.
“There. Now quit being a baby and start working on some stuff. I’ll write the notes down as you go.”
Reid grimaced at me, and I grimaced right back. We did this often: had stare-offs. We would lock eyes and almost speak to one another without actually saying anything, like we were at an impasse, just staring at each other in our own world, wondering which one of us would break first. He was used to getting his way, and I could see why; his looks demanded attention and appraisal. He was intimidating, to say the least. I knew he wanted me to look away first, but I never did, and I could tell that puzzled him.
“So bossy,” he mumbled before running those talented fingers along the guitar.
What would it be like for him to touch me like that? With such grace and passion?
I sucked in air loudly. So loud that Reid’s attention was taken away from the task at hand. “What?” he asked.
My face was blazing as hot as a flaming Cheeto. “Um…” I started. “I… I have to pee.” Lie. “I’ll be right back!”