Just Hate Me and We'll End It Here

Bailey

I watch him go, very confused. And wary and suspicious. But shouldn’t I be? I listen as he bounds up the stairs, towards his bedroom. What could he be getting? My mind runs through the [scary] possibilities as I sigh and look at Georige.

“Well?” I ask somewhat glumly. “What do you think?”

He just wags his tail and licks me. Lovely.

“Ta-da!” Alex appears at my knees that are on the top of his couch- or our couch? Huh… but then I notice he’s holding… a guitar. “Time for lessons,” he nods quickly.

I blink. “Uh…”

“You know you want to learn,” he gives me a pointed look. “Plus it’s free. So sit straight up and let’s get started! I’ll have you jamming around in no time.”

“You really don’t…” I begin slowly as I start shifting around.

“Eh, but you’ve been teaching me to dance,” he shrugs. “It’s only fair.”

“I taught you for one night,” I correct him.

“Guess another night of dancing will be coming then,” he smiles cheekily.

I roll my eyes. “We’ll see.” But I sigh, flipping my bangs from my face and watch as he sits next to me, carefully resting the guitar on his leg.

“So…” Alex runs a hand through his hair and fiddles with the guitar for a moment. “Uh, I guess you should know what everything is called first. Er, well, obviously this is called the body, and this is the neck. Uh, these are frets, and the dots…” Alex continues, stumbling over his words and he keeps looking at me.

He really needs to learn how to concentrate.

But I do my best and try to ignore his look, trying to recall what he said about everything. He starts explaining about tabs and chords and then after a while his gaze shifts away as he gets…well, maybe not obsessive… but really excited and serious about the uh… yeah, guitar stuff. But it’s really neat, seeing his eyes light up happily, stoked at the motions of guitar and the music.

Okay, to be honest? It’s actually very cute.

BUT if you tell anyone I said that, I will personally hunt you down and decapitate you, I swear.

After a while, Alex finally relents and has me take the guitar. Clumsily, I grab it and put it on my lap, realizing I hadn’t heard a lot of what he’d said… but then, what had I been doing? I bite my lip, trying to think.

His chuckle interrupts my thinking process, and then he reaches his arms around me, looping the guitar strap around my neck and setting the guitar against me. He even goes as far so to drape my arms where I think they are supposed to go. “See, not so hard,” he teases me lightly.

I roll my eyes but keep my tongue trapped behind my teeth as to not say anything. For some strange reason, holding the guitar in my lap- it makes me actually want to learn something more. All those tangos and waltzes I danced to, many used the guitar and now I find the passion rising again, wanting to create the music I’ve danced to for so long.

Alex leans forward, trying to help me create the C chord as he keeps explaining, but it gets awkward for him or something, so he chooses to try and show it the right way, like he does it… in the way of wrapping his arms around me entirely to get to the guitar.

My heart hammers at the close proximity, but my mind is busy battling it out, trying to decide if he’s doing this on purpose or not. Still, the faint reminder comes and I pull my shirt up a little bit, just in case.

The evening wears on and slowly what he says finally begins to make sense and comprehend in my mind. It’s hard and hurts to push on the strings, but he says that’s to be expected for the first while. But the chords make some sense and he helps me learn the first few pieces of Remembering Sunday.

“Man, you learn fast,” Alex grins, looking somewhat proud. “I must be a pretty friggin’ awesome teacher.” Of course he would add that.

“Hmmm,” I offer a light smile, handing over the guitar and standing to stretch. I suppose that makes my shirt stretch up, barring my skin, and suddenly I feel some warm fingertips touching me lightly. Hurriedly I stop stretching, shoving his hands away and stepping back.

He just gives me an innocent smile as I try to control my breathing, feeling somewhat confused at the sudden heart burst I had felt when his skin touched. Quickly I close my eyes and shake my head, but when I open them, nothing’s changed. Swallowing nervously, I give him a nod goodnight, and pretty much run for my bedroom.

If only I had a lock, I think as I sit on my bed, wrapping my hands around my head, as though if I squeeze hard enough, everything will go away and everything will be just fine, just like it should and it’s supposed to.

I’m terrified to speak, but you’d expect that from me. I’m mixed up, I’ll be blunt… I wince, recalling the words. Stupid, stupid song. Stupid lyrics. Stupid me for liking the stupid song.

Falling back on my covers, I tug my hands through my hair letting out a frustrated groan, trying to get my stomach to untwist all the knots, and to make the stupid butterflies go away, once and for all.

There’s suddenly a knock on my bedroom door and it nearly scares me to death. “Bailey?” Comes Alex’s voice, uncertain and somewhat wary. Swallowing hard, I watch the door but am unable to say anything.

What’s happened? Why have I so suddenly just… had an inside freak-out panic attack? I whine inwardly. I just don’t understand it. It’s like I can’t be around him at all any more, or…or I’ll melt or jump him!

“Um…” Alex’s voice falters, hearing the silence. “Well, good-night,” he mutters, sounding somewhat miserable and I hear him trudge over to his room.

I run to my door, making to open it, but I can’t will myself to do it enough. Wincing, I lean my forehead against the door, trying to take deep breaths, as though it might help. But nothing seems to help, as I slide down against the door, my eyes closed. I’m just… inwardly, I’m a mess. Always have… always will.