To Save a Vampire - A.K. Koonce Page 0,52
the rhythm and moves swiftly from note to note.
It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard. It’s nothing like the drumming and singing people do during the few parties I’ve been to outside of our camp. The light vibration in the quiet air fills my chest and makes a happiness radiate strangely though my core as if it is competing to replace my own beating heart.
He stops mid-note to glance up at me as though he feels me watching his work. I’ve been caught in the act. I was staring wide-eyed without blinking. I give a shy half smile and look away for a second, afraid he will stop the perfect noise he’s creating, but, when I turn back, he is still watching me, hand raised against the strings, a knowing look in his playful eyes that creates uncertainty in my lungs. The way his deep eyes are watching me makes my breath falter and my heart lose its rhythm.
“Sorry, I’ve just never seen anyone do that before. It was … perfect.” It is the only word I might ever find to completely describe everything about him.
He holds up the instrument and waves me over.
“No, I couldn’t do … what you just did,” I say in a nervous rush of words.
He continues to hold the wooden object in the air, brows raised impatiently as if he refuses my response. I stand up, brushing the dirt from my palms to sit closer to him. Our shoulders brush, his warmth spreading into me. I’m about a foot away, close enough to watch the strings of the instrument, but he glares at the space between us as if it is the enemy.
He turns, shifting in his spot on the ground until he’s behind me, his chest pressing against my back. His legs straddle around me on each side.
“You know, you are pretty demanding for someone who doesn’t speak that often,” I tell him.
He releases a quiet laugh, his breath fanning over my neck as he lifts the instrument over my head and into my nervous hands. His closeness halts my breath, my heart speeds through its beating motions. My body is at war against itself, seemingly unsure of its own natural process. I’m afraid he can hear the pounding noise trying to escape my chest. My heart has turned into a trembling bird trapped within its cage and it beats wildly to escape.
He wraps his arms around mine and holds each of my hands lightly in his own on the instrument as he had held it earlier. He’s literally wrapped around me. No one has ever been this close to me and it causes my mind to question every simple movement I make.
He positions my index finger along the thinner wires near the bottom of my palm, my palm that is sweating against the panes of the instrument. He pushes my fingers down as he instructs my other hand to strum the same wire. He moves my fingers slowly up and down the board of strings while strumming with the other hand. He is creating perfect notes by using my hands. It’s an amazing and accomplishing feeling I start to realize once I adjust to his closeness.
His breath wisps against the side of my neck over and over again. The feeling causes moments of distraction from the beautiful noise I’m creating with his guidance.
I steal an anxious glance at him over my shoulder, and he smiles back at me, but our fingers never miss a beat. Sure, it’s only three repetitive notes that I have managed to find a rhythm with, but it feels amazing that I am creating this sound.
After a few minutes, his hands fall away as I work the few notes on my own. I feel him wrap his arms around my waist and he leans his head against my back. My breath catches in my throat and my stomach tenses under his touch. It feels nerve wracking and comforting all at once and causes my fingers to fumble against the wire for a moment before hurriedly finding my pace again. My heart is doing its best attempt at functioning and my lungs are working to provide a substantial amount of oxygen, but they’re both failing miserably.
He raises his head over my shoulder to watch me play. I instantly feel his breath against my neck again. My fingers fumble once more, and I cringe at the painful sound I’ve made against the coarse wires. I chance a glance at him