Page 64 of Kind of Famous
He grimaced. “Crap. No pressure.”
“It will be fine. Play.”
“So, by way of introduction, Micah recently challenged me to write a love song, but I didn’t have a girlfriend, and my exes would inspire a different kind of song. I’ve got a pocketful of sad songs. Those are easy to write.”
My heart picked up a beat at the notion of this guy sitting on the floor playing a love song for me that nobody else had ever heard. Was I dreaming?
“Without further ado, then.”
He strummed a C, then an E, an F, then back to C, standard chords. The strum pattern was more interesting, kind of down, down, pause, up, pause, down, up, down. He played this pattern through twice, then coughed and laughed. “Shit, here goes.”
His face lost all traces of humor, and his eyes closed. And there he was, a man with a guitar. Sexiest thing alive.
His voice cracked on the first line but smoothed out. “Another tequila sunrise/misty and gray.”
If I’d worried about his ability to play or sing, those fears were assuaged right off the bat. He wasn’t doing anything super fancy, but he handled the guitar like someone who’d spent enough time with it to instinctively know how to slide between frets without missing a note. His voice was a bit scratchy, a little bit bluesy, but low and warm. His sexiness quotient kept going up, up, up. I leaned back and listened to what he was saying, what his song meant to convey.
Empty house
Empty bottles
And the sun sets
On another lonely day
So much for the love song. He was painting a depressing picture of hungover heartbreak.
Hope glints against the darkness
Pinpricks of light
Fill the night sky
Moonage daydreams
And her star burns bright
I covered my mouth with my hands to stifle a gasp. I loved the Bowie reference, and the unexpected turn from pessimism to hope took me completely off guard. His eyes opened, and he sang the chorus, baring his soul, wide-open.
Constellations turn
Turn around in flight
Stars shine
Shine against the night
Wish I may
Wish I might
Find my one true love’s light.
Tears brimmed in my eyes, as the revelation of what he’d meant by calling me Star Shine hit me. He strummed a few more chords, then dropped into a minor key, and sang, “This is where the bridge will go.” Then went back to the chorus, but he was laughing now. He sang it again, then stopped. “I haven’t really finished it.”
He set the guitar to the side, and I took the opportunity to rush him. His chest shook as I climbed into his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“That was incredible.”
