Page 7 of Heart Strings

Here.I sent Abigail a text, thinking that might be a better idea than knocking on the door of a sorority.

Almost immediately, the door opened. Abigail stepped out, her hair a fan of fire in the sunlight as she twisted around to speak to someone nearby. I waited, tapping my thumbs on the wheel of the running BMW. White jean shorts fitted tightly around the last two inches of her slim thighs and curves of her butt, and a tight blue shirt with sleeves so short it was almost a tank top hugged her breasts and shoulders.

It was a simple outfit, but it was…perfect. It showed off the curves but left everything to the imagination. A t-shirt and shorts were perfect for getting coffee and walking around a city - comfortable and sensible. Too often, people tried to impress me by always looking their best, when sometimes their best was out of their element and didn’t show the real person behind the makeup and finery.

I had to deal with way too much of that in the rock scene. Nobody was who they seemed on the surface. Everyone had things to hide.Everyone cheats.

“Hey, sorry!” Abigail opened the passenger side door and hopped in. “My friends were curious about you.”

“What, didn’t they believe you?” I asked amusedly as I pulled the car away from the curb.

“Oh, they did, just not at first. Sorry if I acted weird last night, by the way. You just never expect to run into a celebrity in a bar, you know?”

“You should,” I countered, casting a glance at her as I slowed for a stop sign. “That’s the best place to find them. Rockstars, anyway.”

“Where was the rest of Vaporized last night?” Abigail rolled down her window just the slightest, and the playful breeze took her hair and made arts and crafts with it. “Do you guys not…I guess, hang out? I kind of assume if you’re in the same band, you’re friends.”

“We do sometimes. Jake and I - Jake’s the-”

“The drummer,” she interrupted, then looked embarrassed. “Sorry. Everything I know about your band and you kind of feels like stalking now that I’ve met you.”

“It’s common knowledge.” I shrugged. “Plenty of people know all the boys’ names. But I have to admit something, though.”

“Yeah?” Her attempt to sound nonchalant didn’t entirely work. “What’s that?”

“I have no idea where a good coffee shop is. Can you point us to one?”

“Oh.” The wind snatched away her giggle. “Sure. Turn right in two lights.”

Under Abigail’s direction, I made a couple more turns and parked in a public lot. “It’s better to walk from here,” she said as she checked the pockets of her shorts for her phone and wallet and stepped out of the car. “It’s about half a mile away. You don’t mind walking, do you?”

“I wanted to see New Orleans,” I reminded her. “I can do that while taking a stroll with a beautiful woman.” Her blush didn’t go unnoticed, but I didn’t mention it. We started off together, weaving through the stream of Ash Wednesday pedestrians going about their business. So many people walking and talking between the colorful and festive buildings meant lots of noise, and we both trailed off after a brief attempt at conversation.

The press of people intensified. Two tall men shouldered their way between us, and I resisted the urge to call out something angry in Spanish. I reached out one hand, intending to grab hers and hold her close so this wouldn’t happen again-

And I stuck that hand right in my pocket. Abigail and I weren’t dating. She wasn’t my girlfriend. She was just an interesting person I wanted to spend a little more time with before I left New Orleans. Not that I’d be able to convince Sierra of that…who had texted me twice already since I had hung up on her earlier. She always had to be the one to hang up.

A tug on my jacket shook thoughts of Sierra out of my mind, and my shoe skidded against the ground as I stopped suddenly and looked at Abigail. “We’re here!” she said in a tone that made it clear the words were a repeat.

“Oh. Sorry, I was thinking.”

“What about?” Abigail led the way into the quaint little coffee shop. “This place is pretty expensive, so a lot of people skip it…but students get twenty percent off everything, so that makes it basically normal price for us. I’ll get your drink if you…oh, right.” She changed tack at the slow shake of my head. “Celebrity. Rockstar.”

“I’m good,” I confirmed. “But I can get yours.”

“I’m also good, but thanks. You get points toward free coffees if you’re a Tulane student, so I’ve got to get my own.”

Smooth, very smooth. She dodged my attempt to pay for her, but not impolitely. I could always pay for the women I took out - but that didn’t mean I always wanted to. It meant something to me to know that Abigail didn’t want to have things handed to her for free just because I had a lot of money. “Can I just get a medium coffee, cream, no sugar?”

“Sure. Can I get a name for that?” The girl behind the counter swept her blonde ponytail back out of the way as she prepared to write my name on the cup.

“Al Devera.”

Did I have to give her my last name? No. Was it worth it to see her excitedly turn away and start whispering to her friend behind the counter after I looked away? Absolutely.

Abigail had already ordered her coffee and had found a seat at a tall round table with two stools near the drink pick-up counter. “So, what about?”

“Hm?” The confused noise tickled my throat for some reason and I almost coughed.

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