Chapter 2 #2
When I don’t respond, we stand there in silence for a few moments, both of us at a loss for what to say.
Her eyes flit over my face, pausing on my gauges and elaborate septum jewelry before trailing down to my dolphin bites, staring at the rings with a curious expression.
She lowers her gaze to my chest, and the corners of her mouth tilt upward as she takes in the corny design printed onto my shirt—the words “Be Good to Your Wood!” around an image of a guitar in bold, brightly colored lettering.
“I like your shirt.”
“I… Thank you.” For some reason, I’m nervous—something wholly foreign to me in the thirty-one years I’ve been on this earth.
I clear my throat, urging my brain to string some kind of sentence together, something that will charm and allure her like I’ve done to hundreds in the past. Something that will prove I have an ounce of control over the situation or the wildfire spreading through my veins.
Before that happens, though, Mac rounds the corner, all mohawk, puffed chest, and arrogance. He steps right up to the woman, gazing down at her like she’s a precious gem that landed at his feet. Only he appears to have retained his knowledge of basic human interaction.
“Hey, doll! Welcome to Hightide Records. I’m Mac—pleasure to meet you.” Mac sticks his hand out, and she jumps back, the pulse point at the side of her neck racing.
“Sorry…” Her eyes dart around wildly before settling on my T-shirt logo, and she takes a small, shallow breath. “Probably too much caffeine. Jumpy.”
“I’m on my third cup of joe myself.” Mac laughs easily, still holding his hand out. Finally, she gives it a slight shake.
“I’m Eloise,” she says, her voice soft.
“That's a beautiful name.”
At my interjection, Eloise and Mac swing their gazes to me, one in surprise, the other in irritation.
“Don’t you have a lesson to get back to?” Mac asks pointedly.
I frown but can’t find any reason to argue. Sorry, Jane.
With a polite smile aimed at Eloise, I turn on my heel and stalk toward the lesson room, my chest clenching with a rare spike of jealousy. As soon as I sit down on my stool, Jane gazes at me with a raised brow and a knowing look.
“Who’s she?”
I shake my head, my brows lowering in a scowl. “No one. Just a customer.”
Jane leans forward, turning her head so she can see out into the store. “She’s really pretty.”
“Mmm.”
Jane beams, revealing the large gap between her two front teeth. “You like her, don’t you?”
Before I can answer, their voices filter in from the main room. I turn toward Jane, shushing her with a finger at my lips. Unable to help myself, I lean forward, angling my head so I can watch their interaction from the practice room without making it obvious.
Jane giggles but does as she’s told, turning her head down and pretending to practice her hand positions as I listen in on Mac’s conversation with my new pink-haired obsession.
“Sorry about him,” Mac says. “Coupla screws loose with that guy. How can I help you?”
I watch Eloise dig her thumb into her cuticle, an anxious tic. “I saw your sign out front and wanted to see if you still had openings for guitar lessons?”
“Of course we do! I can show you some guitars for sale, unless you already have one?”
She shakes her head.
“Excellent! Right over here, we have—”
“Actually… I have a question before we start looking.”
Mac quirks a brow, the slight twitch at the corner of his eye telling me he’s irked by her demeanor. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to give up on trying to get in her pants. “Sure, sweetheart. Ask away.”
She takes a deep breath like she’s steeling her nerves. “Is there… Would it be possible for me to purchase a guitar and store it here? I can pay you extra or a weekly fee. Whatever would work for you.”
Mac snorts. “That is an odd request…”
Eloise wrings her hands, her eyes floating around the room, never focusing on one thing for too long. “It’s just… I really don’t have any space in my house for a guitar.”
Mac’s expression is strained as he tries to work out her odd request. “It’s not a piano, sweetheart.”
She stiffens. “It’s a very small house.”
Mac chuckles, but it doesn’t hold the same endearment as before. “I can sell you a wall mount.” He points at the rows of guitars on the wall. “See? It will hardly take up any space that way—”
“I’m sorry, but this is a hard line for me,” she says, her voice shaking slightly. “I know it’s strange, but I need to keep the guitar here, in the store… If you can’t help me, that’s perfectly fine. I’ll… find someone who will.”
She’s about to turn and head to the exit when Mac stops her. “Hold on! Since you insist… Sure. For you, I’ll work something out.”
Eloise lets out a breath, and it seems like a great weight has been lifted from her shoulders. “Thank you so much. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate… Just, thank you.” Her pretty pink lips spread in a smile—the first one I’ve seen—and my heart stutters at the beauty of it.
Mac, though, is apparently unaffected. “No problem, doll.” He waves, gesturing to her to follow him toward the wall of guitars. He starts pointing out different models he thinks would fit her best, spouting off a bunch of information that makes Eloise’s eyes go even wider.
Her nail finds her cuticle at the same time she folds her bottom lip between her teeth, clearly overwhelmed by the choices in front of her. Her gaze catches on a model stored away at the top corner, and my pulse spikes at the sound of joy that pushes from her lips.
“What about that one? It’s gorgeous.”
“That is a Gibson Custom Shop J-45. The sunburst amber finish is a limited release.”
“How much is it?”
Mac tries not to scoff and fails miserably. “I don’t know if I can sell you that one, sweetheart. It might go to waste.”
She frowns. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
He waves her off. “Nothing. I’ll pull her down for you to look at.”
Mac pulls the guitar off the wall, placing it into Eloise's outstretched arms like it’s made of gold—and for the price, it very well could be.
Eloise cradles the guitar, her pretty blue eyes flitting down to the price tag hanging from the neck. Her mouth pops in surprise, and she slowly hands the guitar back to Mac, her cheeks heating.
“Do you have anything slightly less… expensive?” she asks meekly. “Preferably under one fifty?”
A sneer works its way onto Mac’s face as he puts the guitar back on the wall. He’s going to say something else insensitive and scare her off for good. I just know it.
“I’ll be right back, Jane,” I murmur, pushing off my stool and rushing over before I think better of it. Before Mac opens his mouth, I rush forward and grab a guitar off the wall, ignoring Mac’s shocked expression as I thrust it toward her.
“Here. It’s not a Strat, but it does have a vintage sunburst top, and it sounds… good enough for the price.” I dip my chin, gesturing for her to take it. Slowly, Eloise reaches out, and her fingers brush mine as she takes it, sending sparks flying across my skin.
“Try it out,” I croak. “We have seats over there.”
Her eyes go wide. “Oh, I couldn’t… I mean… I don’t even know where to start or what to do—”
She tries to protest, but her words are deaf to my ears as I lead her over to the benches in the darkened practice room. I gesture to one of the seats, and she obliges, her torn denim jeans rustling softly as she adjusts the instrument on her lap.
“Like this?”
“Almost. Do you mind?”
Meekly, she nods, worrying her lip between her teeth once more.
Heart thudding wildly, I lean in toward her, and the warm scent of vanilla envelops me.
I cover her hand with mine, hoping she can’t tell how much I’m trembling as I reposition her wrist around the neck of the guitar.
That same electricity from earlier crackles between us, thickening the air and making it difficult to breathe.
Against my will, my fingers tighten around her wrist, wanting to pull her closer.
Sky-blue eyes flit upward to meet mine, and the sparks turn to a raging wildfire in my chest. I can’t move, can’t blink, or breathe, or even think.
I’m not sure why I’m having such a strong reaction to this woman, or why there’s this nagging worry that my life will never be the same now that I know her.
All I know is that I want this moment to stretch into eternity and evolve into something I know it never will.
With much effort, I remove my hand from Eloise’s skin. Clearing my throat, I drag my eyes away and step back, that same emptiness settling into the marrow of my bones.
“If you like that one, I’ll get you checked out and set up for a lesson!” Mac says. I’ve never been more grateful for an interruption.
“I should get back to my lesson,” I say without looking at either of them. “It was nice to meet you, Eloise.”
I’m vaguely aware of her whispering, “Same to you,” but I’m already halfway to the practice room. Desperate to calm my raging heart.
Jane gives me that knowing look as I take my seat, but I pay it no mind as I jump headfirst back into her lesson. About ten minutes later, the door to the shop slams closed, and I know she’s gone.
Well, at least until her lesson next week. The thought of seeing her again causes my pulse to spike anew, and I silently shake my head, alarmed and a little worried by how strongly my body responds to her. How my heart beats for a stranger I don’t know the first thing about.
The rest of Jane’s lesson passes by exceptionally slowly.
Every five minutes, she has a new question about the girl with pink hair—ones I have absolutely no way of answering.
When I tell her to focus, she just makes some comment about the “googly eyes” I had around Eloise, pointing out how I couldn’t focus, either.
By the time her mom comes to pick her up, I have a raging headache, and I’ve never been happier to be rid of the spunky nine-year-old in my life.
Still, true to my word, I have a conversation with her mother about her progress, and Jane gives me a big hug when her mom agrees to keep her lessons going for the next month.
As soon as they leave, I lock the shop door behind me and storm into Mac’s office, my mind on one singular thing. Eloise.
I step inside, and Mac looks up from his laptop, his brow quirked. “Yes?”
Well, no reason to drag this out. “When’s my lesson with Eloise?”
He leans back, mouth working its way into a haughty grin. “So that’s what this is about. Sorry, little rock star. I’ll be the one teaching her.”
“What?” I sputter. “Why?”
He throws his arms wide. “Um. Why wouldn’t I jump at the chance to be alone with Eloise Marquette for an hour every week?”
I frown at his tone when he says her name. “What, is she a celebrity or something?” That would explain the crowd I saw outside the concert hall in the city …
“You’ve really never heard of her?”
“Uh… no.”
“Well, you should have, especially since you’re in the music industry. She just got done with her world tour.” When I don’t respond, he continues, “She played with the Octagrams, man—and not just with them. The Octagrams opened for her!”
“Octa… gram?” I raise a brow, and he sighs.
“The traveling orchestra? The one everyone is obsessed with?”
I shrug. “I don’t really listen to that classical stuff…”
He groans, throwing his head back. “You don’t have to, man.
People go to watch her. Eloise fucking Marquette.
The way she plays piano… her passion… It's like she’s making love to the thing.
I know she didn’t look like much, but trust me…
they stuff her in a tight little dress and six-inch heels, put her up at that piano bench and…
” He whistles. “It’s just like porn. Like really good, classy porn. ”
“How… intimate.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty awesome.” He elbows me like I’m in on some sick joke with him.
“I’ve been three times, and I have tickets to Saturday’s show.
The ladies love the music, and watching Eloise really puts me in the mood.
” He wiggles his brows, and I have to resist the urge to vomit all over his suede shoes.
“God, what are the odds she walked into my store? That the piano legend wants fucking guitar lessons, of all things? I can’t believe it. ”
“You’re a lucky man,” I grumble, storming away from him in the hopes he’ll drop the conversation.
I’m not sure why, but the way he talks about this random woman sends a murderous chill down my spine.
Try as I might, I can’t shake it, so the next best thing is to put some distance between me and the throat I’m desperate to wrap my hands around. “I’ll talk to you later.”
A burst of autumn air smacks into me as I step outside, causing goose bumps to rise along the exposed skin of my forearms. It’s nowhere near cold enough to need a jacket, but the salty breeze blowing in off the coast pierces through the humidity and wicks away the sheen of sweat coating my skin, leaving me overly hot and chilled at the same time.
The back door of the shop clicks shut as I tap out a cigarette.
I place the stick between my lips, and the hiss of my lighter is the only sound to break the silence.
I tilt my head back as noxious smoke billows through the air, looking directly into the wide-open sky.
Clear and cloudless, and the exact color of her eyes.
Beautiful.
For some reason, I can’t take my mind off that stunning, wide-eyed girl.
Eloise Marquette.
I’m not sure what it is about her, but something is drawing me to her, desperate to have a taste. To get inside her mind and see what makes it tick. To watch her play and make love to the keys just like Mac described.
I shake myself, attempting to push Eloise out of my head. She doesn’t even know who I am. She doesn’t have a reason to care about me. Doesn’t even have a reason to dislike me.
Maybe it’s a good thing—perhaps it’s good I’ll never truly know her. Maybe it’s good I’ll never have the chance to be broken by her.
Still, the ghost of her smile haunts me for the rest of the day.