but Hale, Becca, Sean, and Mason, all exchange glances, not missing how I’m ready to pound the guy for being a disrespectful son of a bitch. He finishes to― get this― applause from the rest of the group.
With a wink, he stretches his arms out and offers me the guitar. “Want to give it a try there, partner?”
I didn’t come here to sing or fight, and while I’m leaning more toward the latter, I can’t disrespect Trin’s place. I yank the guitar with enough force to jerk him forward and meet him with a grin that’s nowhere near friendly. “Sure. Why the hell not?”
Trin relinquishes her hold and adjusts her position so she can see me better. I pause, taking in her encouraging smile, and how it lights up her face.
‘Cept as I fumble with the strap so it rests over my lap, and place my fingers on the right markers, I’m beginning to think I’m in way over my head. Not only because she’s watching, but because everyone’s watching right along with her.
I do my best to ignore the whispers behind me, and the mutters from Davis who’s started laughing. For some reason playing something I learned by heart so many years ago is a lot harder than it should be. That said, I’ve taken long enough and need to get started. So I focus on the prettiest girl here. The one sitting directly in front of me, whose eyes remind me of a warm autumn day.
My fingers begin to move long before I’m fully prepared, strumming the first chords of Kenny Chesney’s Anything But Mine . Maybe I could’ve picked a better song, one that wasn’t about summer love. But like I said, men are possessive and I’ll be damned if I let a guy in plaid shorts and boat shoes show me up.
I start off slow, allowing the melody and my courage to build. With my next breath, I open my mouth and sing the first verse. “ Walking along beneath the lights of that miracle mile, me and Mary making our way into the night…”
Sounding more Chris Young because of my deep voice, I capture the right rhythm and make it work. Everyone falls perfectly still, including Trin who’s no longer smiling. Her pink lips form an oval like she can’t believe I’m doing what I’m doing. Maybe she likes it. At least, that’s what I hope, because right now, I’m singing it solely to her.
The last time I sang in a group was for my boys back in Iraq, back in our tent to try and drown out the distant blasts, and make like we didn’t have to meet the enemy head on the next morning, all of us pretending like we didn’t have to kill yet again and that’d we’d all return the next night in one piece.
Each pass of my hands, and each press from my fingers, stirs one of many painful memories I’ve tried to forget, forcing me to avert my gaze from Trin’s. It doesn’t seem right to feel what I’m feeling when I look at her―not when the memories that have plagued my dreams and woken me from sleep flash across my mind as clear as glass in the early morning sun.
The excess of emotion firing through me range from good, like when I catch Trin’s stare, to not so good, when I think back to how many didn’t make it back from that raid. But everything I’m feeling, I feel it down to my heart, using it to fuel each verse. I finish the song, not bothering to look up until my fingertips finish plucking that last note.
When I’m done, there’s no applause. Not for me. There’s only dead silence. Trin, of course, is the first to speak.
“Oh, my God,” she says. “That was amazing !”
“No shit,” Sean says. “I think my panties are wet.”
Heat creeps up my neck and face as everyone busts out laughing. I quickly pass him the guitar and get rid of it. As I turn back, and Sean starts playing Thunder Road , Trin flops onto my lap. Her hands wrap around my neck as mine snake her waist.
“Thank you,” she says, greeting me with that smile I now know all too well.
I nod because it’s all I can do.
And because there’re too many people around for what I
With a wink, he stretches his arms out and offers me the guitar. “Want to give it a try there, partner?”
I didn’t come here to sing or fight, and while I’m leaning more toward the latter, I can’t disrespect Trin’s place. I yank the guitar with enough force to jerk him forward and meet him with a grin that’s nowhere near friendly. “Sure. Why the hell not?”
Trin relinquishes her hold and adjusts her position so she can see me better. I pause, taking in her encouraging smile, and how it lights up her face.
‘Cept as I fumble with the strap so it rests over my lap, and place my fingers on the right markers, I’m beginning to think I’m in way over my head. Not only because she’s watching, but because everyone’s watching right along with her.
I do my best to ignore the whispers behind me, and the mutters from Davis who’s started laughing. For some reason playing something I learned by heart so many years ago is a lot harder than it should be. That said, I’ve taken long enough and need to get started. So I focus on the prettiest girl here. The one sitting directly in front of me, whose eyes remind me of a warm autumn day.
My fingers begin to move long before I’m fully prepared, strumming the first chords of Kenny Chesney’s Anything But Mine . Maybe I could’ve picked a better song, one that wasn’t about summer love. But like I said, men are possessive and I’ll be damned if I let a guy in plaid shorts and boat shoes show me up.
I start off slow, allowing the melody and my courage to build. With my next breath, I open my mouth and sing the first verse. “ Walking along beneath the lights of that miracle mile, me and Mary making our way into the night…”
Sounding more Chris Young because of my deep voice, I capture the right rhythm and make it work. Everyone falls perfectly still, including Trin who’s no longer smiling. Her pink lips form an oval like she can’t believe I’m doing what I’m doing. Maybe she likes it. At least, that’s what I hope, because right now, I’m singing it solely to her.
The last time I sang in a group was for my boys back in Iraq, back in our tent to try and drown out the distant blasts, and make like we didn’t have to meet the enemy head on the next morning, all of us pretending like we didn’t have to kill yet again and that’d we’d all return the next night in one piece.
Each pass of my hands, and each press from my fingers, stirs one of many painful memories I’ve tried to forget, forcing me to avert my gaze from Trin’s. It doesn’t seem right to feel what I’m feeling when I look at her―not when the memories that have plagued my dreams and woken me from sleep flash across my mind as clear as glass in the early morning sun.
The excess of emotion firing through me range from good, like when I catch Trin’s stare, to not so good, when I think back to how many didn’t make it back from that raid. But everything I’m feeling, I feel it down to my heart, using it to fuel each verse. I finish the song, not bothering to look up until my fingertips finish plucking that last note.
When I’m done, there’s no applause. Not for me. There’s only dead silence. Trin, of course, is the first to speak.
“Oh, my God,” she says. “That was amazing !”
“No shit,” Sean says. “I think my panties are wet.”
Heat creeps up my neck and face as everyone busts out laughing. I quickly pass him the guitar and get rid of it. As I turn back, and Sean starts playing Thunder Road , Trin flops onto my lap. Her hands wrap around my neck as mine snake her waist.
“Thank you,” she says, greeting me with that smile I now know all too well.
I nod because it’s all I can do.
And because there’re too many people around for what I
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