Now he straightened up and turned the corner, heading towards the middle of the gym. He walked alongside the last row of chairs, too intent upon capturing the feelings in his heart and displaying them through his guitar to concentrate on anything in the background.
Ashley couldn’t help but view this as an erotically-charged voyeuristic moment. Surely, the young man making his way towards her had no idea she sat there… watching him pour his heart into this beautifully tragic rendition of whatever demons plagued him. The guitarist rounded the chairs, with no idea that he’d come within ten feet of Ashley, before strutting down the aisle of chairs.
Since Ashley spent most of her conversation with Scott while he sat in a booth, she couldn’t determine his height or even his build, although he had the same muscular shoulders and arms as the guitar player. Their hair color and length seemed to be similar as well. But because this man’s face seemed sheltered by the darkness, she couldn’t quite identify him yet.
Shifting his left shoulder inward as though enduring a violent blow to his chest, he quickened his fingers on the chords. The grief that had emanated from the guitar now took a darker turn by plunging into heavier music.
He spun his head to the right, as though suffering a left hook to the cheek as he simultaneously lifted his guitar high in the air. In frustration, he kicked the chair to the right, sending it crashing against the other three beside them. One fell over, but he didn’t even notice. Far from recognizing what happened in the periphery, he seemed even more connected to his instrument now than ever before.
Ashley bolted to her feet during the abrupt clatter that reverberated throughout the gym, wanting to approach him and rouse him from this tormented state. But she didn’t move. Her joints had frozen in place.
The young man snapped his head back: the victim of an imaginary uppercut to the chin. And now he went into some serious guitar shredding, his fingers dancing across the chords seemingly without rhyme or reason, but the sonic burst of energy perfectly exemplified the pain that seemed to well inside him as he neared the edge of the stage.
Now that he’d increased the distance between them, Ashley broke the stronghold on her muscles and followed him toward the stage. She hadn’t decided to approach him, but her body moved in that direction nonetheless. As she came closer, she had no idea what she might do or say. She just knew that he’d found a way to keep the anger and frustration inside from crushing him. And since she felt likewise, she wanted to know how he’d managed to control it.
She had many friends, but after watching this display of pure emotional torture, Ashley wondered if they were better categorized as acquaintances. After all, friends trust and confide in one another. Yet, she hadn’t told one person about the panic attacks she’d suffered or the nagging feeling that her parents secretly regretted having her as a daughter.
That would have given her “friends” too much ammunition to use against her – if they ever found it necessary to turn on her, which always felt like a possibility in high school, where alliances changed week by week, and where one’s reputation was sealed by revealed secrets and outrageous rumors and lies.
So there she stood, listening to someone she didn’t even know pour his heart out. Ashley could tell it came from a true, innocent place. And had he known that she’d shared the same space, he would no doubt have been upset with her for intruding in this private guitar session.
But if it was Scott, would he be angry? Doubtful! He’d probably quirk a half-grin and shake his head at her, finding her amusing for one way or another.
Nevertheless, Ashley sensed this man’s irritation would soon pass, only to make way for them to be friends, to talk about matters close to the heart, to share the feelings that they’d both locked up with chains as strong as the ones that he’d slung around his shoulder.
The symbolism behind those chains fascinated her. She’d never seen a musician use a device that heavy to secure the guitar so close to the chest. The possibility of unloading those burdens would no doubt be reciprocated, making him worthy of confiding in. How she knew this, Ashley couldn’t quite explain, but such deep-rooted certainty felt not only obvious but expected.
She guessed that those chains around his shoulder weighed twenty pounds or more. So why had he used it instead of a regular guitar strap? Regardless of the reason, she suspected that he had thick muscles under his shirt to carry the load. That thought sent a jolt of excitement through her, encouraging her to move toward him even quicker, hopefully to get an up close look to see if she’d imagined correctly.
The guitarist came to the front row and soon made his way up the steps, leading to the stage. He took another invisible shot to the face, this time slinging his head to the right. It only increased the speed with which he played.
Ashley marveled at the control he displayed on the outside, considering all of the anguish he emitted from deep inside. She wondered what those fingers, most likely rough from devoted practice on the strings, might feel like against her cheek, against her neck, against her hip, against her…
Those thoughts jarred her from the daydream. She had no idea who stood before her. Ashley hadn’t seen his face or even heard his voice. For all she knew, he could look like Frankenstein. But his music touched her heart, and God help her, she wanted to know what it would feel like if he touched her in other, more secretive places.
The guitarist stepped onto the stage, angling for the edge, the spot where a long line of circular bulbs shined down below, bathing him in light. He closed his eyes, lifted his head toward the ceiling, and settled into a melody that sounded exuberant and full of possibility. He flicked his head to the right, pushing the hair aside like a curtain, but a moment later, it swung back into place, preventing her from seeing his face.
That unintended tease made her even more eager to see him. Ashley pressed closer to the stage, angling her head to the side to catch a glimpse.
His mouth curved into a smile.
Those lips looked familiar! She pulled up Scott’s smile in her mind, but since their entire conversation spanned ten minutes, she couldn’t be they matched those of the person who stood before her.
Thinking that he’d caught her in the act of invading his private space, the nerves in her stomach clamped down on her. But within seconds, Ashley noticed that his eyes were still closed. That realization swept her into the grandeur of the music he played.
Far from sad or aggressive, this time the melody seemed inspired by the promise of better days ahead. The guitarist hit only a few notes in repetition, but the emotion it conjured filled her with hope. She didn’t know if she felt it for him or herself or for both of them, but the sensation left her breathless with anticipation.
Ashley felt tears slip down her cheeks as she came to a stop beside the stage. She’d gotten so wrapped up in his performance that she hadn’t even felt the moisture on her face. And now, when she needed to say something to announce her presence, her heart thundered in her chest. How could she tell him that his performance had moved her more than any other piece of music she’d ever heard?
The guitarist lowered his head, shook the hair from his face, and opened his eyes. He stared right at Ashley. Far from looking surprised or irritated, Scott Mettle just kept looking at her with a nondescript expression.
A gust of heat swept through her. Of course, she was excited to see him. But what triggered those feelings? What torment had he endured to such an extent that he preferred silence, while at the same time using music as an outlet for all of his frustration? She wanted to jump up on stage and give him a big hug to soothe his pain.
“Hey,” Scott said in a low voice, sounding far from shaken by her presence.
“Hi.” She wanted to say more, but nothing came to mind.
“What’re you doing here?”
“I don’t know. I…” She thought about telling him about skipping the after party because she felt more comfortable alone or in small groups, but he probably wanted to know why she’d wa
tched him play. “It’s… easier this way.”
Looking deep into her eyes, he seemed to comprehend the unspoken.
She figured that he’d joined the crew so that after rehearsals, he could use the PA system and let the sounds of his guitar fill the gymnasium. Just as likely, he probably wanted to know what his music would sound like when he performed on stage in a few weeks during the talent show in front of their classmates, parents, and teachers
“Was it any good?” he asked.
“Huh?”
“What I played.”
.
“It was amazing.” She broke into a wide smile. “I actually…” Ashley almost let slip that he’d brought her to tears. But this time, rather than rely on keeping her thoughts and feelings private, she decided to try something different.
“You didn’t tell me you played guitar.”
“You didn’t ask. But I’m glad you liked it. It came from a pure place.”
“It…made me cry.”
After a long moment of staring into her eyes, he nodded again. “Yeah, me too.”
She didn’t see tears in his eyes, so she assumed he’d cried on the inside, and the music sprung forth as a result. If any other guys her age had answered that way, they would have immediately taken it back, laughing as though humiliated. But Scott didn’t so much as crack a smile. He just looked at her with that sincere gaze, holding her captive. It felt like he could see the parts of her that no one else had even attempted to hear about, much less understand.
And the intensity with which he stared at her made Ashley feel like no one had ever really looked at her until now. It soothed the tension that had coiled its way through her chest and throat. At first, this implicit understanding made her wonder why Scott never spoke up in school, but moments later, she realized that like her, he probably didn’t trust others until they’d earned it.
Despite the almost intimidating nature of their mostly silent communication, Ashley had to admit that she liked the way he looked at her. Scott met her eyes and didn’t release her from his gravitational pull.
Unlike other guys, he seemed intent on seeing her soul, rather than just accepting what everyone else had perceived her as: the theater geek/track runner who had escaped the intermediary between the popular kids and the geeks by snagging the attention of the most popular girl in school. It allowed her to hang out with the cool kids, while never forgetting where she came from because she acknowledged and respected every student in school.
And just as Ashley had a reputation, she’d recalled overhearing plenty of rumors about a new kid: that he was in and out of juvie for a myriad of crimes ranging from theft and public intoxication to vandalism and disorderly conduct, that he came from a broken home with an abusive father; and that he was a member of a motorcycle gang. She presumed other students had exaggerated these claims. The soft-spoken boy she met yesterday didn’t seem likely to join a motorcycle gang or break the law.
Each of those unproven stories, among countless others, made her realize that no one had taken the time to really talk to Scott. But based on the way he played the guitar, Ashley suspected that one of the rumors had to be true, and the only one that seemed to warrant the kind of pain he evoked on stage would have to have come from experiencing abuse of some kind. But she didn’t see any scars, welts, or any other evidence to verify those claims.
Scott didn’t take his eyes off her. “You’re not going to tell your boyfriend, are you? That I made you cry?”
Ashley tried to make sense of that question. She didn’t have a boyfriend. But Scott must have meant Troy, since he often stopped by her locker to chat, not to mention that she’d gone on a few dates with him, which must have circulated around school.
“Usually,” he said, “girls cry after a date with me… not before it.”
That creepy line put her on guard. Where had that sprung from? What did he mean? Had he hurt other girls or were they crushed because he didn’t return their affection? Ashley straightened and tensed her muscles.
For reasons she couldn’t understand, she got the impression that Scott had too much chivalry to lay a hand on any woman… unless, of course, they shared an intimate moment. And given that situation, she suspected that Scott would touch her in all the right places and elicit all of the desire that every woman yearned to feel when in the arms of a man.
“Why would they cry after a date with you?” she finally asked.
“You know, because they’re bored to tears.” A partial smile came to Scott’s lips, making his eyes twinkle. It softened the severe look, once more revealing the trustworthy person she met yesterday.
In a swift panther-like move, he jumped off the stage and within seconds stood beside her, giving her that blistering soul-connection stare that made her toes curl. Part of her wanted to run the other way to get away from whatever game Scott was playing. And the other part wanted him to grab her and kiss her senseless.
Not that she went about kissing guys she just met and didn’t know anything about. That had never happened before, and until now, she’d never even contemplated the idea. She’d always taken her time (perhaps too much, as in the case with Troy) to find out how she felt about someone. But something felt different this time, and it unnerved her that she couldn’t explain why.
She’d seen guys in her school display confidence in the form of arrogant and cocky showmanship. But she’d never seen one of them look at her in such a direct manner and so full of confidence that he felt content even during moments of silence, instead of trying to fill it with goofy comments or nervous laughter.
Scott’s expression became serious. “I hope you’re careful around Troy. I don’t trust him.”
She liked that he’d also sensed something off kilter about the captain of the football team. Ashley figured that most people ignored any insight that suggested Troy came off as insincere because he was so gregarious, charming, and of course, popular.
“I saw that you signed up for the talent show,” she said. “What are you going to do? Comedy routine? Juggling? Miming?”
He searched her eyes, maintaining a stoic expression. “All three… at the same time.”
“Wow. That’s got to be difficult.”
“Not if you do it right.”
“And you know how to… do it right?”
A slow smile parted his lips, as though she’d touched on a topic too mature for her years. “I’ve never had any complaints in that department.”
The implication in the way he looked at her made Ashley’s cheeks flush. Perhaps he was a little cocky. Did it have anything to do with thinking that she was involved with Troy?
Scott looked at her lips then returned his gaze to her eyes. “I should get going. Do you need a lift?”
Ashley pictured him putting down his guitar and hoisting her in his arms. She felt her cheeks burning brighter. “I live a block away, so…”
“Denied,” he said, lowering his head in mock embarrassment. He raised his gaze to hers, growing more serious. “Are you sure? It’s pretty dark out there.”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
He nodded. “All right. Good night, Ashley.” The corner of his mouth curved upward for a moment and then he spun around and hopped up the stage again to retrieve the black leather jacket that lay strewn across the back of the stage.
As cute as she found that little half smile, Ashley wondered what it would look like to see Scott let loose with a full smile. Furthermore, she was quite disappointed that he hadn’t stayed to chat. He had no problem doing so last night at the restaurant.
What had changed now? Oh, right! He suspected that she was already spoken for. Damnit! She had to make things clear to Troy that they were not an item and never would be.
Feeling invigorated, yet somewhat breathless and weak at the same time, she exited the gym and made her way through an empty hallway. Far off in the distance, she heard a vacuum cleaner running; a custodian cleaning up. Otherwise, the school was silent.
&nb
sp; A minute later, she heard a footstep creak across the floor behind her, startling her. She spun around by reflex and found Troy coming to a halt a few feet away.
“Damn,” he said, releasing a devious smile, “I was gonna scare you.”
All of the pent-up excitement she’d felt in the gym with Scott evaporated, leaving her drained of energy. She put a hand to her chest and let her body brush up against the lockers behind her. “That wasn’t funny.”
Far from disappointed that he’d frightened her, Troy appeared to take great pleasure in seeing the look of terror on her face. “Oh, come on,” he said, moving towards her. “It could have been funny if you’d just loosen up.”
She felt claustrophobic as he closed the distance between them. She smelled alcohol on his breath. “What are you doing here? I thought you went out with the cast.”
He stopped about eight inches from her face. “With those geeks? Are you serious?” He moved in closer. “You know, you’ve got a seriously hot body.”
A warning siren went off in Ashley’s head. His breath kept hitting her nose, and she felt like she’d already taken a swig of whatever he’d been drinking. It made her nauseous. At the same time, she tried to think of ways to get away from Troy without making him angry, because she didn’t know how he’d react, but nothing came to mind.
“Troy, I’ve got to go.”
“No one’s holding you here,” he said, cracking a wide grin.
Her head pounded so hard that she felt like someone kept hitting it with a hammer. Feeling something nudge against her upper thigh, Ashley cringed.
“I think he likes you,” Troy said, referring to his erection. He placed both hands on her hips, taking another step toward her. “Just one kiss. You’ll like it, I promise.”
She managed to get her hands in between them and pressed them against Troy’s broad chest. “I’ve got to get home. My dad—”
One More Chance (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 3) Page 3