Page 78 of Playing With My Heart Strings

“No, ma’am.” I wave a finger at her before opening the door. I grab the top of the door, holding it for her as she slides onto the leather seats. “Good to go?” I ask, waiting for her nod before shutting the door and walking around the back of the car to get on my side.

“You look nice today,” Baylor says once I’ve buckled myself in. I do look nice, wearing what I typically wear—a pearl snap shirt with the sleeves rolled to my elbows, jeans, and a cowboy hat—but not as nice as she does.

“Nothing compared to you, sweetheart.” When I reach over to place my hand on her knee, brushing my thumb over her soft skin, Baylor looks away. But not before I catch a glimpse of her pink-stained cheeks. I love that I affect her as much as she affects me.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere special. Don’t worry, I know you’re going to love it.” I slide my hand off her leg and grab her hand, entwining our fingers.

About thirty minutes later, the car pulls up to the Bluebird Cafe.

“I’ve always wanted to go here,” Baylor murmurs softly.

“You’ve never been?”

She shakes her head. “That probably sounds crazy, considering I’ve lived here for years, but I’ve never gotten around to it. I’m glad my first time will be with you, though.” Her face immediately reddens, like what she said made her feel awkward.

“Honored to take your Bluebird Cafe virginity.” My teasing probably doesn’t help any, but I can’t resist.

Baylor just shakes her head, playfully rolling her eyes with a subtle smile on her face.

“Come on, let’s go inside.” I race around the car to open the door before she can and offer her my hand. I help her out of the car, then instead of dropping her hand, I interlock our fingers. When she looks at me this time, there’s no confusion in her expression, just what looks like pure contentment.

There isn’t a huge crowd yet when we walk through the doors. Enough people that only one table is available, but not so many that the building is packed and there’s no place to stand. We snag the last high-top table just as the host steps onto the small stage.

“Good evening, everyone! If you’ve never been here, welcome, and if this isn’t your first time, welcome back. We’ve got a full lineup of singers for open-mic night.”

Leaning in toward Baylor, I whisper in her ear. “I signed you up, darlin’. Better think of which song you’re going to perform, because it’s all original content.” Maybe it was wrong to put her on the spot, but I know she writes and I have no doubts that she’s talented.

She whips her head toward me. “You didwhat?”

I shrug. “I signed you up.”

Her eyes blink rapidly as she aggressively shakes her head, like she’s trying to wake herself up from a dream. “I-I don’t haveanything prepared. I—” I can tell she’s panicking, but I’ve seen the journal she carries around. She’s ready for this, ready to be a singer and songwriter. She just needs a little push. That’s where I come in.

“Hey, relax. It’s okay. You’re going to be great. Play the song you know best.”

“I don’t know if I have it in me.”

“You do, Baylor. I wouldn’t have asked you on this date if I didn’t believe in you and your abilities. Now you have to trust yourself.”

During the first few singers’ performances, I catch Baylor shaking her leg and continuously stirring her drink.

“You don’t have to go up there if you don’t want to, but I think—no, Iknowyou’re going to be incredible, and everyone else is going to think so, too.”

“I just don’t know if I can measure up to some of these songwriters. I mean, that last girl was amazing. Her lyrics were so poetic.” Her gaze softens as her eyes shift to the right then down to her feet.

“Next up, we have Baylor!” the host interrupts.

I give Baylor an encouraging nod, and she hops down from her stool, gingerly walking to the stage. She grabs the guitar already there for performers to borrow if needed, pulls the stool away from the mic stand, and sits.

“H-hi, everyone. My name’s Baylor.” Her voice shakes slightly, but she clears her throat and slowly starts to strum chords as she looks around the crowd.

I can’t read her expression, but it looks like nerves. Whatever it is, though, melts away when she begins the first verse.

Like a rose that’s never seen the light, they blinded your heart to make you feel like you’re less than you are.

The words they say behind closed doors make you feel so small.

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