“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 herfingers 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 howIcouldn’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. “Sothat’swhat this is about. Sorry, little rock star.I’llbe the one teaching her.”
“What?” I sputter. “Why?”
He throws his arms wide. “Um. Whywouldn’tI 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 theOctagrams, man—and not justwiththem.The Octagrams openedforher!”
“Octa… gram?” I raise a brow, and he sighs.
