She stares at me for another minute before grumbling, “Okay, fine.”
I pat the seat next to me. “Sit. Let me play the song for you that you gave me last night.”
Dropping her arms, she pulls the coffee table farther away from me and plops on top of it instead. I wait a beat, making sure it won’t collapse underneath her. But for all its dings and scratches, it appears solid. She waves a hand at me. “I’m ready. Go ahead.”
She doesn’t like it when I win an argument, it seems. Noted. But she’s willing to listen to me, so that’s a mark in the positive column. And really, sitting across from me gives her a better experience than sitting next to me would, so I don’t bother arguing. I don’t need to be in charge. This is an equal partnership, after all. We both get something out of this deal.
I take a quick peek at the sheet music that’s lying on the bottom of my case to make sure I remember it all, then start the opening, keeping my gaze focused on my fingers, my guitar, the music, anywhere but her.
But when I get to the chorus, I can’t help looking at her. Her face is rapt, her eyes wide and unguarded. They’re light brown today, confirming my suspicion that she wears colored contacts in public. I like seeing this side of her—relaxed, confident, herself. Fully and completely herself. Not wearing any masks for anyone else. Yeah, sure, she changed clothes and put on a touch of makeup for me. But that again is more for her own comfort. She needs that little bit of war paint to take on the little bit of the world that I represent. We barely know each other, after all. Even if we get along well and have crazy chemistry, we’ve only spent a few hours total in the same room.
Will she eventually let down the last of her guard and let me in all the way? Will she get comfortable enough to let me see her with no makeup and crazy hair?
It’s been ages since I’ve been that comfortable with a girl or one’s been that way with me. Well, I guess Gabby is technically that comfortable with me, but she doesn’t really count.
Alexis’s lips part as I strum the last few chords of the chorus, letting the notes die away naturally before breaking the spell with words. “I haven’t learned the words to the other verses,” I offer by way of explanation for how short my performance was. “I haven’t even had the song for twenty-four hours yet.”
She blinks a few times, like she’s coming out of a trance, and pulls her lips into a tiny smile. “Right. That’s true. I’d like to hear the other verses when you get them ready, though. It’d be good to add a little variation on the repeated choruses too, when you get that far. But …” She trails off, licking her lips, her throat working as she swallows. She gives a tiny shake of her head. “That’s a really good start. Strong. Your voice … That song fits your voice even better than I expected.” At first her words were halting, like she was picking them carefully, but she gets more confident, more sure of herself the longer she speaks. She points a finger at me. “That’s the kind of thing you need to be singing. You want to build an audience? Grow a following? Make money with your music? Get more of that. Perform like that. Put that on your YouTube channel and see what happens.”
My grin grows wider with each word. “Yeah? You really think so?”
Her chin lifts, a gesture of supreme self-assurance. “I know so.”
I look around the room, frowning. With the blinds and curtains drawn, the light in here sucks. “Do you have a good lamp we can use as a spot?”
A laugh splutters out of her, drawing my attention. “You want to record it right now?”
I turn back to her with a lopsided grin. “Well, maybe not right this very minute. But here, yeah. At some point. Maybe in a few days.” I gesture at the window. “I’d be fine with using natural light, and I could set up on the coffee table and face the window. But with your ground floor apartment and no security, anyone would be able to see in, and I’m not sure either of us really want that either.”