Page 57 of Paint the Town, Dove
I plugged her in and pulled a stool to the centre of the carpet, getting used to the feel of another electric in my hands. To a non-musician, all guitars looked the same. But to rock stars, guitars neverfeltthe same. You connected to one, imprinted on one like it was your own fucking Renesmee [Scarlett forced me to marathon Twilight with her, don’t ask].
“Am I so lucky –” Scarlett sat atop a discarded piano bench – “thattheRyden Spectre is giving me a private performance?”
I chuckled. “You should sit next to the shower more often.”
She shook her head, a small smile cresting her lips. “Play me something.”
I stared at her, contemplating if I should show her the piece I’d been working on for over a decade. It wasn’t…fuck, it wasn’t ready. But I itched for it, the way I itched for all things bad – all thingshigh.
But not when I played, never when I played. So what do we do when we hurt? We create art.
Pale and blue, the rest is cold –
In a house of soil, my peace was sold…
To a man in the mirror, who looked like me –
I wished for blinds so I couldn’t see –
The death of my destruction, the death of all I knew… The death of absolution, all that I’ve been through –
I wished, so wished, for blinds that bleed –
A blackened blue, a pale reprieve –
To wash the pain of my mistakes –
The death of absolution.
Scarlett was sitting on the rug at my feet, tears settling atop her waterline.When did she move?“Are you…” I cleared my throat, setting aside the guitar, “are you okay?”
She stared at me for what felt like hours, doing what she does best. Assessing me, dissecting me,finding me.
Her knees were drawn up to her chin, head tilted slightly. “It’s funny,” she started, “I grew up watching you play, watching you sing. I never miss a soundcheck, turn up the radio when your songs come on yet –” she shook herhead, “I never get tired of listening to you.”
I couldn’t hold back my smile. “Is that a compliment, Dove?”
“Hardly,” she got up, dusting her knees. “Just a fact.”
“The fact being?”
She stepped in front of me, between my knees. Fucking hell, I could feel the heat creeping up my spine, the tension whirring between us. I swallowed hard, resisting the urge to hold her waist, to press her body against mine. She was so close, dammit, she was so fucking close.
Just do something about it, Ryden.
She’s been yours forever.
You’ve been hers.
Who else is left?
Who else could it be?
She leaned forward, brown eyes levelled with mine. “Born an eagle, born a rock star.”
My pulse was hammering against my chest, raging against the emotions. My other half, my best friend, my fucking soulmate was a breath away from me and I couldn’t – Ican’tdo it.
There was so much risk. So much on the line for us.
