Chapter 8Ronan
8
Ronan
R onan watched Eden's slight shoulders moving in rhythm, her long brown hair swaying delicately over her shoulder blades. She sat on a white shag area rug over the dark hardwood floor. With an acoustic guitar resting in her lap, she strummed a series of chords, her body gently swaying to the music. The afternoon light spilled into the windows and cast a light on Eden's face, making her look ethereal. Ronan focused his camera on her hands, capturing each movement as she carefully plucked the strings. He then zoomed in, capturing the fine details of her face, her closed eyes framed by long, sweeping eyelashes.
They stayed like that for a while. He filmed her slowly putting together a song. She would sometimes start with a loose idea of the lyrics, letting the words take shape before her, while at other times, the melody would lead the way in creating a song. It just depended on how the inspiration hit her. Watching her entire creative process unfold before him was a mesmerizing experience, unlike anything he had ever witnessed.
Well, besides watching her perform live the first night they had met. Watching her perform had been electrifying. Her voice was powerful and slightly raspy. It had sent chills coursing through his entire body. The air at that concert seemed to crackle when she performed, and his heart jolted when she ran through the crowd at the opening song. He half-expected the audience to swarm her, but instead, they hoisted her back to the stage where she had delivered a performance that would be etched into his memory forever. Her stage presence was nothing short of incredible. She effortlessly commanded the stage, and the crowd hung on her every movement.
Yesterday afternoon, they went through more pictures from her memory box—endless shots of Eden and Ingrid. Ronan couldn't help but notice there were no pictures of her parents, especially after she had clammed up about her childhood. He didn’t want to push, though, since she’d already shared a lot about her past with Liam. It was clear that her childhood was something she wasn’t ready to talk about yet. The fact that she’d share about Liam but not her parents made him think it was a painful subject for her.
Liam . Just thinking about him made Ronan feel a burning rage flare up inside. How could anyone claim to love someone while treating them like that? Liam was a piece of shit, and Ronan couldn’t help imagining what he’d do to the guy if they ever crossed paths.
Afterward, they had lunch on her deck. Eden had made a salad because, as she put it, "I couldn't cook to save my life." Ronan had watched as she turned the kitchen into what he’d call 'Hurricane Eden.' Utensils were scattered everywhere, and there were splatters of olive oil all over the floor from her overly enthusiastic salad-mixing. Then they sat down to eat and chatted while the ocean waves set the rhythm in the background. The warmth of the sun had made him feel relaxed and a little drowsy. His usual anxiety was nowhere to be found.
He had learned a few more details about Eden: her favorite flower was Magnolias, she was a total foodie, and she loved the rain, but thunder scared her. Ronan shared a few minor details about his life, too. How he grew up in San Diego and that both his parents worked at San Diego State University. He also spoke about his younger sister Sadie, her fearlessness, and how Sadie was his closest friend.
"Ugh, I need a break!" Eden exclaimed, shifting her guitar off her lap and collapsing onto the fluffy rug, her brown hair fanning out like a halo around her head. She rolled her head slightly and glanced at Ronan, the camera still diligently filming in his hand.
"My record label is hounding me to write a new album. They want another 'Smoke and Mirrors,' my second album. Catchy songs, the ones that'll chart. But I've always wanted to dive into a different sound, one that's softer and not as angry. I love complex instrumentation. It is what I studied at Juilliard, along with a major in vocal arts."
"Why not just write the songs you love and see if they'll like them?"
"I guess I could, but it's risky. Either way, I've been dealing with writer's block for months. I've worked on improving my mental health, but my music seems to be paying the price," she lamented, shaking her head. Rolling onto her shoulder, she turned to face Ronan, a hint of frustration in her eyes.
"Do you play any instruments?" Eden asked, and Ronan shook his head. "You want me to show you the basics?"
"Okay," he agreed, placing the camera on the couch and letting it continue recording. He settled in front of her, and she handed him the guitar. Their hands brushed ever so slightly, and he felt a subtle electric hum running up his arm. Eden seemed unfazed as she ran her fingers over the guitar's neck, which now rested in his lap.
"These are the frets," she pointed her dark-painted fingernail to the small raised metal bars that sat on the neck of the guitar under the strings.
"Put your pointer finger on the top string, and your middle finger on the string right below it—that’s an E minor chord," Eden explained. She guided him through more chords, her touch light as she helped adjust his fingers. Every time her skin brushed against his, he felt a small jolt, one he tried not to pay too much attention to. He figured it was probably just the lack of any intimate touch lately. It had been a while—his last relationship ended ten months ago, and with all the time he spent overseas before that, he hadn’t been with anyone else. It wasn’t that he wasn’t over his ex, Melanie; it was more like he just couldn’t bring himself to care about sex after the accident eight months ago.
"Like this," she said, attempting to strum the guitar while sitting in front to show him the strumming pattern, but the sound came out disjointed from the incorrect angle of her arm and hand.
"Hang on," Eden murmured as she gracefully crawled toward him. He attempted to avert his eyes from the low neckline of her shirt, but he still caught a glance of her generous cleavage. He quickly averted his eyes, but the image lingered in his mind. He took a sharp intake through his nose. She brushed past him, and he felt the warmth of her breath against the nape of his neck as she settled in behind him. Her nearness was electrifying, her scent seemed to envelop him entirely. Her slender arm reached around his waist, and he could feel the silky strands of her hair grazing his bare forearm, sending chills racing up his arm.
"Put your fingers on an A chord." Her breath softly brushed his ear, and he resisted the urge to shudder at the sensation. He put his finger in the proper spot. She began strumming the guitar around his waist.
"Now a G chord." Her voice was a little lower. He switched his finger placement again. She strummed again.
"Now you try," she said, clearing her throat and stepping back. He turned to face her, then began playing the chords to "Wonderwall" by Oasis, moving smoothly through the chords and strumming patterns. Her eyebrows shot up, eyes wide as she watched him nail it. A laugh bubbled out of her, followed by a snort as she tried to hold it together.
"Holy shit, Ronan! You said you couldn't play." He smiled and started laughing. Eden was laughing so hard she was holding her stomach.
"Well, to be fair, you asked if I currently play, which I don't," Ronan responded, chuckling with her. "How do you think I managed to attract female attention in college? 'Wonderwall' secured me at least a solid two dates in my lifetime."
Eden, her laughter now subsiding, leaned back on her hands, her gaze fixed on him with genuine admiration. "It's really hot," she playfully remarked, her teeth gently tugging at her lower lip as she watched him play. Ronan felt blood rush to his dick, and he shifted the guitar slightly, acutely aware of the effect she had on him.
He couldn't help but think back to his research from last night. He had limited time at the beginning of the project to delve fully into her past. He initially focused on her music because he had reservations about intruding into someone's privacy. However, to be a thorough journalist, he had to look at all the information to get the best possible story.
As he clicked through the articles about her spanning the last few years, he encountered Liam's proposal in Paris, witnessing Eden's initial shock and eventual acceptance. He saw the TMZ article about Liam cheating. He couldn't bear to read that one. Then, there are various articles labeling her a "hot mess" and snapshots of her during that dark period of her life. It was tough for him to look at, knowing all the struggles she had faced during that time in her life.
He also saw the headline for the article of Eden and Quentin on a breakfast date. He had felt a strange sinking feeling reading that headline, but he didn't want to analyze that feeling. It's not like Eden would be interested in a boring journalist anyway. More importantly, he would never cross the line of their professional relationship. It was almost a relief that Eden was dating Quentin. It repelled any type of romantic thoughts that he might have about her. Okay, maybe not repelled completely, but it helped quell that voice inside his head, the part that was incredibly drawn to her.
Eden and Quentin being together made sense. They were on the same level. Quentin was an actual superhero, and there was no way Ronan was competing with that. He had seen the trailers of his movies; Quentin Ramos was America's golden boy with beefed-up muscles and a sharp jawline. Quentin was clean-cut and always pleasant, while Ronan's edges were definitely not clean-cut. His edges were unruly and needed a severe trim.
"Thank you for the lesson. I'll be sure to apply your teachings at my next open mic night," Ronan replied with a hint of humor, attempting to cool the fire that still seemed to course through his veins.
"Anything for my star pupil. I want an invite to this open mic night, by the way," Eden responded, her eyes sparkling.
"I honestly don't think you could handle my scat singing. Especially once my fedora comes out," Ronan said sarcastically with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows.
"A fedora? Now, that is true showmanship. I think I would sell my firstborn to get a front-row seat to that," Eden smiled excitedly.
"You would have to fight off my groupies to get the front row. I don't think they would take kindly to you encroaching on their turf," Ronan scratched his stubble thoughtfully.
"I could take them. I do have a best friend who is part Rottweiler."
"Details, please."