Page 78 of Hot Girl Summer

“I hope one of you can sing,” he says, “because I’m tone deaf.” A blatant lie.

Kiki giggles, then turns to me, suddenly self-aware. “You start,” she mouths.

I look at Danny, then flash a “here goes nothing” smile.

My singing voice is nothing special. It isn’t sweet and melodious like my sister’s, but ever since Kiki was a baby, she’s loved it when I’ve sung to her. Finally, Kiki joins in with a harmony, and after a while, Danny starts singing too. He’s right, his Drake impression is way below par, but the three of us vibing like this has me all in my feelings. I can’t help but smile.

The song never ends, because all three of us erupt into laughter at the state of Danny’s terrible attempt at rapping.

Once we calm down, Kiki quizzes Danny on his music tastes. “So, what kind of music do you like?” she asks.

Danny shrugs. “Let’s just say my music taste is a little more...classic?”

“Oh yeah? Like who?”

“The Beatles, Queen, The Rolling Stones.”

“Wow, you must be really old,” Kiki says.

Danny laughs. “That’s what your sister tells me all the time,” he says, and gives me a wink.

Butterflies swarm my tummy. How does he have this effect on me with one look? Not that I’m complaining.

My parents return, along with an auxiliary nurse, who checks Kiki’s vital signs, then escorts her to Radiology for a bone density scan.

We sip coffee in mostly silence and small talk, while awaiting news on Kiki. When she returns twenty minutes later, Danny steps outside to give us some privacy while the nurse explains that the results can take up to two weeks. Shortly after, we say our goodbyes, and allow Kiki to rest.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Onthedrivehome,I manage to convince Danny to show off his teaching skills, so we take a detour to the studio.

“Welcome to Guitar 101.”

I smirk at his stern-but-sexy teacher voice.

“Something funny, Miss DeLuca?”

“No, Mr Pearce.”

“Mr Pearce is my dad; you may call me Sir,” he says with a wink, observing my cross-legged seating position on a rug by the couch. He walks over to the wall lined with guitars, bypassing the electric guitars and unhooking an acoustic one from a bracket on the wall.

“The fuck I will.”

“Please refrain from using profanity, Miss DeLuca. Will you be sitting like a hippie for the duration of the class?”

I nod. “Is that a problem,Sir?” I smirk.

“No problem. But it’s more comfortable on a chair.”

“Is that so?” I can’t help myself; Danny is by far the hottest teacher I’ve ever had. He plays a scale to check the guitar is in tune, then he bends down and hands it to me, quirking an eyebrow when he gives me the same plectrum I used when I fucked myself.

“Are you right-handed?”

I nod.

Danny fetches himself another acoustic from the wall, then sits on the couch and checks the tuning. I rest mine on the top of my thighs, positioning my left hand on the neck and my right hand over the sound hole, while he briefly explains strings and frets, and demonstrates an E chord oh-so-effortlessly.

“This is E Major,” he says.

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