Stereos

The October weather bit at her cheeks, but the sun shone proudly from its spot in the sky. The contradictory weather was pleasant, as Peyton tugged her black pea coat closer to her body. Luke’s languid strides matched her quicker ones, she noticed with a hint of sourness, as the two of them walked downtown, coming closer and closer to the Toronto Eaton Center.

As they passed a man curled up in the fetal position on the cement sidewalk, Peyton’s heart gave a tiny lurch. She wondered if he was okay, which made her think about the dream she had last week. It disturbed her to have such vivid images in her head, yet she hadn’t told anyone about it yet. Instead she opted for walking in contemplative silences, much like she was now with Luke.

The sound of shattering glass still rang in her ears, and coupled with the flash of having witnessed the car accident again, she had on more than one occasion had a panic attack.

“Peyton.” She looked up as Luke said her name. As she did, her ear caught a familiar strumming pattern of an acoustic guitar.
---
Something had been bothering Peyton, he could tell. He could always tell when something was wrong with Peyton. She got quiet and contemplative, with something about her flickering like a candle about to go out.

So he decided to take her downtown. The wind stung at her cheeks, turning them a healthy rosy pink, and her auburn hair clouded her sunglass clad vision and stuck to her lip gloss.

It was busy for an October afternoon as people darted their way down one of the busiest streets in Toronto. A couple of times she had had to hold onto the sleeve of his jacket as she squeezed through people so they wouldn’t lose each other, and each time her hand brushed against his arm – even through the material of his jacket – he looked at her each time. And each time, she never caught the way he looked at her.

He decided to take a detour on the way to the Toronto Eaton Center, not that he would ever admit it to Peyton. Her head was down as they walked, her dark eyes studying the cracks in the concrete sidewalk.

Upon spotting the building he wanted her to notice, he said her name. Her eyes were on his in an instant, an in a brief second, about as long as it took to blink, he was subjective to her eyes. He had never told her – even before the accident – how her gaze could pin him indefinitely. She was the first to look away as she picked up on the sweet crooning coming from the music store just ahead of them.

Outside the shop was a man, no older than twenty-eight, bopping his head and strumming his mahogany-finished guitar. Peyton involuntarily clutched the material of his jacket, while she gazed in the direction of the man she didn’t know she knew.

She thoughtfully worked her bottom lip over in her teeth, unconsciously now sliding her knuckles up and down his arm softly. He didn’t tell her to stop, because part of him didn’t want her to.

And then without another word she let go of his arm and like a moth to a flame, was drawn to the man. He didn’t go with her, opting to stay in place. When she got to the man, he flashed her a charming but friendly smile. If he guessed correctly, he was saying her name, and with the natural swaggering charm Chase possessed, caused a slight blush to fan out across her cheekbones. She ducked her head in the humility that always graced every fluid movement she made, which caused Chase to smile at her. The slight crowd that had been gathering around him dispersed as he pulled the guitar over his head and handed it to Peyton. She stared at it like a foreign object, but then hesitantly her fingers closed around the smooth wood of the neck.

She was standing at an angle that Luke could see her in profile, running her left hand up the neck, touching the steel strings as her right hand rested on the body of the guitar.

Peyton was left handed, not that it seemed to matter to her, as the right-handed guitar rested against her hip and shoulder. She strummed once, her face contorting. On second thought, he noted with a smile, maybe she did know she was left-handed.

Chase said something to her, making her look up and smile faintly. Then, Chase nodded over to Luke, and Peyton looked over her shoulder at him. Her body soon followed so he had a full view of her. Her fingers danced uncertainly over the low string, or maybe it just didn’t feel comfortable being switched around for her.

But when the pick Chase had given her touched down, it was like another automated version of Peyton took over. She repeated the same chord, and then continued with a slightly upbeat tempo. The second she seemed to get more into it, Luke recognized the song. She had played it before – his sister had loved it. A slight crowd began to hover around her, listening, but due to his height he was still able to keep an eye on her.

She was so far off in her own world, that when she was finished and heard the applause, a bright scarlet – darker than before – lit up her entire face. She quietly excused herself, giving the guitar back to Chase and hastily weaving through people to get back to him.
---
She wasn’t aware she knew how to play the guitar.

No one had told her. And apparently she was pretty good, because people were clapping for her when she finished. She felt publically scrutinized, so she handed back the guitar to the guy – whom apparently she had known from before as Chase – and went to seek comfort in Luke.

She didn’t know why, but everything about Luke relaxed her. Sure enough, as soon as she was within reaching distance, she stopped walking and looked up at him. Her rigid posture softened, and her heartbeat slowed when he gave her a full-dimpled smile.

“I can play,” she stated simply, after a moment.

Luke nodded. “That was the last song you played for my sister Macy.”

“So you knew.”

It warmed her heart that Luke had brought her past this place on purpose (yes, she had made the connections the second Luke brought her attention to the guitar), so instinctually she rose up on her toes, softly curled her hand around the back of his neck, and placed a sweet kiss on his cheek.

And then the full weight of her actions crashed down on her, and she froze awkwardly. Pulling herself out of his grasp and back onto flat feet, she looked at him apologetically. “Sorry,” she told him quietly, “that was inappropriate…”

“It’s fine, Peyton,” he assured her quickly. Truth be told he was happy at her impromptu display of affection, even if it had caught him off guard, and he didn’t want her thinking she had to treat him like a brother.

Because he wasn’t her brother. He definitely was not a brother.

“It really wasn’t inappropriate,” he added quietly, running a hand through his hair.

A pink stained her cheeks at the light underlying implications of telling her that, but gave him the sweet smile that he loved. “It was really sweet of you, Luke, thank you.”

And suddenly, as a humble blush crept up his neck, she realized that nothing she could dream about would be scarier than if she suddenly lost Luke and his simply adorable Canadian-born charm.
---
Peyton threw her head back and laughed, the sound like music to Luke’s ears. She was carefree, languidly sitting at the table across from them. A huge paper cup of New York Fries sat between them, but neither made a move to eat them.

Her eyes glittered with amusement when she looked back at him.

“And I swear, Peyton, you broke three of my fingers.”

The hidden mirth in his voice was not lost on Peyton, so she didn’t feel bad about breaking his fingers during one of the scariest movies of all time. “I think,” she started loftily, “that you wanted me to break your hand and that’s why you brought me to that movie.”

He leaned forward on his elbows, keeping his gaze squarely on her. “Guys don’t bring girls to scary movies to have them break their hand.” He dodged a fry Peyton flicked at him.

The little flirtation from Luke registered in the back of her brain, but didn’t affect her soft movements. She felt compelled to reciprocate. So, setting both her elbows on her the table, she leaned forward. “I would hope you liked me – from what I’ve been told we were pretty much inseparable.”

He had liked her – he still liked her. “It’s because I’m famous.”

A pretty smile graced her lips. Her grandfather was right, Luke reflected, her smile was dangerous. “Well, as long as I liked you for more than your adorable good looks.”

The smile dropped from Luke’s face – she thought he was adorable? The change in atmosphere confused Peyton. That is, until she figured out her slip up and gasped into her hands. “Oh my god,” she muttered into her hands, her eyes sad, “we weren’t dating.”

Her heart thudded against her ribcage, threatening to just give out, as she stood quickly. Luke stood too, not knowing what to say but knowing he needed her to stay. “Peyton –”

She moved just out of his reach, her hands clutching at the table. “We weren’t dating, and I just – oh my god. I’m sorry. I have to go.”

Luke stood helplessly by the table, too stunned and confused to go after her.