Shawn sat on the couch and held up his guitar. I sat on the ground just before Shawn looked at me.
"Anything in particular you want me play?"
"No, I really don't–"
"Just make a suggestion."
"How about Photograph by–"
"Ed Shereen?"
"No, by Cure."
"Cure? Who the heck is that?"
I sighed. "Forget Cure, just sing me something of yours. It's about time I hear something from you other than that damned Señorita song."
"Okay." He quipped to play the giutar but he hesitated. He put his hands on the guitar then he removed it again.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm trying to find the perfect song."
"What for? Just play anything, dude."
Why did he hesitate? It was just me he was playing for.
And that word dude. I don't reckon why, but suddenly, it's starting to feel heavy coming out my tounge.
×××
Shawn's POV
"Okay." I say and hold my guitar, but for some reason, I go blank.
I have all these diffrent songs with all these diffrent meanings, but none if them came to my appeal for me to sing to Clumsy. I feel some unspoken pressure to sing her a song that she'd like but a had a feeling that that might be a fatal attempt since she didn't find love convincing.
"What's wrong?" She frowned.
"I'm trying to find the perfect song." I admit.
"What for? Just play anything dude."
Dude?
"Right." I placed my hand on the guitar.
"Wait." She stopped me. "There's this one song of yours that I knew. I actually used to liked it." She closed her eyes to recollect it.
She actually knows one of my songs. That's a shocker, I never guessed her for the type to listen to my music.
But that didn't matter because she likes it!
"I know this one," She squinted her face like she was about to transform into a super sai-yan. "We used to sing it back in high school."
That statement caused me to laugh. "High school was so long ago."
"Maybe for you, grandpa. Now shut up, I'm trying to remember that song." She tried humming the song and I immediately knew the song she was talking about. I matched my guitar to her tune and she smiled.
"Yes, that's it."
"There's nothing holding me back. That's the song you want me to play?" I asked and she nodded.
I played the song and successfully managed to get through the whole song without forgetting the lyrics, which is a huge achievement for me.
"I like this song. It brings back a lot of memories."
"Like?"
"Like this one time when my parents went out of town, my sister started blasting that song out of the speakers and I came out of my room– hysterical– wondering what was disturbing my silence and it resulted in me falling down eighteen flights of stairs. But it doesn't mean I'm clumsy." She added the last bit quickly.
"You're not clumsy, you just couldn't help but fall for me."
"Strike two." She warned. "It also reminds me of high school. Sometimes, we'd bunk school and hangout in our old treehouse. All we had in there was an old radio and Craig's homemade cigars he made from paper and a teabag. They tasted horrible."
"So, you were a bad girl in high school?"
"Totally."
We both know she's kidding, so we both share a laugh. It feels good to talk to her, and I feel as though she is gradually opening herself up to me. Gradually.
"So, who taught you to play the guitar?"
"Myself." I boasted
"Just tell me."
"The person who taught me how to play is really famous. And can turn anyone into an internet sensation overnight."
"Who?" She asked, thirsty for the answer
"Youtube."
She giggled. She actually has a girly giggle. "No way."
"Yes way."
"I notice you have a piano too." She stood up and walked to it.
I place the guitar on my side and walk on up to her.
"Hurry. Come play something for me."
I played an old piece that I've been practicing on for quite some time. Clumsy was very concentrated, I could even see the reflection of the piano in her green eyes.
"Not bad, aye?" I quipped once I was done.
"Not too shabby. You know, I can play the piano too." She said. "Probably better than you."
"Now this, I gotta see."
She placed herself onto the seat, right next to me.
She prided herself on the piano only just to play the basic notes
Do,
Re,
Me,
Fa,
So,
La,
Ti....
DoH!
She missed the last note.
"Show-off." I pouted before we laughed. "Who taught you how to play such skillfull mastery?"
"My dad." She smiled.
"So, your dad was into music?"
Mmm..." She tilted her head. "He was a priest so, I guess so. He was good with the piano so he taught me, I just hated his lessons because I preferred to be outdoors."
A priest? Wow. I did not see that coming. Not by a long shot.
"Your dad is a priest?"
"I know. People are always shocked when they get to know this, that's why I don't tell to many people this."
"I am shocked. But what about the bunking and the teabag cigarettes? Went you supposed to be an angel since you were a priest's daughter?"
"Shawn, I was a kid. I was bound to get into some mischief sometimes."
"You don't get into mischief lately, do you?"
"Of course I do, I'm all about mischief."
"Mmm, tell me all about it."
"Yesterday, I drank milk." She leaned into my ear. "Straight outta the milk carton."
"You are really something." I smirked. "I see you have the camera with you, did you go out to take some photo's?"
She removed it out of her neck. "Actually, yes. I did a little bit of exploring today."
She handed it to me and I browsed through it. They were– to say the least– beautiful.
She took pictures of the city and she made me see it in a light I didn't see this city in before. The precision and the angles alone were enough to make you feel emotion.
"Sorry, they are a little rough. I didn't really–"
"Rough? These are far from rough."
"You're just saying that."
"I'm not, these are really amazing. Amazing is not even a word to describe these."
"Even more amazing than my piano solo?"
"Your piano solo has got nothing on these."
"Well, if you think so, but I preferred my piano playing way better."
"You know, I take photographs too. Probably even better than you do." I joked.
She rolled her eyes. A habit I've noticed she is accustomed to.
"Wait, you're serious?"
"Dead."
"Then show me."
"Well, after looking at your level of accuracy when it comes to photography, I'm now way to embarrassed to show you mine."
"Don't worry. This is a safe space, I won't judge."
"Maybe, some other time." I told her, but in all honesty, I just didn't want to leave her side.
"Then you must be taking photo's of real crap if you're too much of a wimp to show me."
"Wanna know what real crap looks like? Take a look at your piano solo."
She punched me in the shoulder. And boy, was she strong.
"Ouch." I wince.
"Stop complaining," She rubbed her fist. "It's supposed to hurt me more than it hurts you."
"Well, did it?" I rub my shoulder
"Of course not, I didn't feel a thing.