“Come into the living room.” The kitchen was too tight, there wasn’t enough room for me to put space between us.

In the living room, I sat on the love seat with the case in the empty spot beside me. I unlatched the case and pulled the shiny, smooth body from the velvet lining.

Instead of taking the seat on the other couch, Dare gently slid the case off the cushion and deposited it on the floor.

My seat jumped beneath me as he settled his large frame beside me.

I turned, angling my body so my back rested against the arm rest and my bent knee supported the body of the guitar.

“He loved playing. He played standing under my mom’s window when they were in college to get her to agree to go out with him.”

“Sounds like he loved your mom, too.”

“He did. They were always so happy together. Laughing, never afraid of being silly, especially when they saw how much it embarrassed me.”

“Sing me something.” He leaned back with his arm propped up along the back of the couch. His fingertips were inches from my arm.

Why hadn’t I seen this coming? Not play me something, but sing me something. No one busts out a guitar just to look at it. Of course he’d want me to sing something. My balloon animal stomach had two extra knots added to the poodle tail.

“No, you don’t want to hear me play.” My escape to the case on the other couch was thwarted by his hand on my shoulder. It wasn’t restraining or hard, only a gentle pressure.

“Please, Bay.” His eyes sparked with encouragement—and something more.

My fingers trembled against the smooth wood in my lap. I cleared my throat. “Sure.”

My smile was thin and shaky. “What would you like to hear?”

“Anything you want to play for me.”

I licked my lips. At this point, I’d be more comfortable doing a striptease for him. My boobs would be a welcome distraction from the flustering cave of bats losing their shit in my chest. Clearing my throat, I ripped my gaze away from Dare and focused on the cool metal pressing into the pads of my fingers.

My pulse thudded, warming the strings.

I closed my eyes, pulling together the frayed edges of the blanket of my mind and cocooning myself in the musical beauty, blocking out everything except for the music and Dare.

14

Dare

She sang for me. I’d thought she’d bolt from the living room, possibly locking herself in her room rather than play on the couch beside me, but she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and played.

I made no sudden movements, and barely a breath escaped my lips as I watched her.

With her eyes closed, she rocked and shook her foot hanging off the edge of the couch to the percussive beat, woven into the melody. She sang an acoustic version of “Use Somebody” by Kings of Leon that made the original look like the cover. Hers was slower, sadder, more powerful. I heard the words for the first time, and they didn’t need the full accompaniment playing behind them. They deserved Bay’s voice and nothing less.