𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 | 𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Chapter 19 - Play the Guitar

The gray duvet cover encased my body as I laid still. The only thing heard throughout the silent house was the faint sound of the pages of my book as I flipped through them, along with the clock ticking every few seconds in the background. It was calm, quiet, just as I had preferred it.

As I scoured through the pages, however, nothing seemed to seep into my mind. Instead, every word on each page seemed to roll over my head as if a wave. It was as if every line I read was pasted over by my ever growing thoughts of Dallas, the gang, and my persistent fear of further loneliness.

I squinted my eyes and furrowed my brows to try and focus closely on the words of the page, yet it still hadn't seemed to distract my mind. I tried focusing more and more but my attention was quickly drawn away from the book and to a small knock on my window that made me jump.

I sighed as I grabbed my makeshift paper bookmark from beside me and slipped it inside the book, hurriedly closing it and throwing it to my mattress. Another knock sounded as I came to the window, causing me slight aggravation. "Who the hells knocking on my window?" I muttered to myself as if I'd know the answer.

I pulled open the sheer floral curtain to reveal the familiar face of Dallas, whose annoyingly captivating face only made me more perplexed and peeved. I rolled my eyes at him as I merely closed the curtain on him. "Wait!" He banged on the window again. I sighed of annoyance and opened the curtain again, my eyebrows nearly fused together as I sat angrily.

"What do you want?" I asked, slightly confused at his being there and how he even managed to find me. "You dropped something." He smirked as he brought my brothers ring to my sight. I scoffed before looking down to my right ring finger, the metal ring evidently gone.

I rolled my eyes again before looking hesitantly to both him and the ring. "You want the ring or not?" He quipped. I sighed with apparent anger before opening the window to allow him in. He smirked before climbing into the open window and landing heavily on the wooden floor boards. He settled for a moment as he sighed.

"How'd you find my house?" I queried. "Oh." He began digging in his pocket. "You dropped this too." He unfolded a piece of paper he pulled from his pocket, quickly showing me the front which had my written address in my grandmothers handwriting. "Give me that!" I demanded in a whisper yell as I snatched it from him.

He merely shrugged before he turned his head in a different direction. "So this is your room, huh?" He looked around with his thumbs hitched around his belt loops. I crossed my arms as I watched him closely examine my things, slowly but surely getting further and further amazed by his talent of finding more ways to make me angry.

"You still play guitar?" He looked to me with wonder after he studied my guitar that sat nicely on a stand. "Are you gonna give me the ring or not?" I questioned impatiently without taking time to acknowledge his question. "No need to rush me kid." He came to my front. "How about... I'll only give it to you if you play me a song." He smirked at his own idea as he gestured toward my guitar. "Why? I thought you hated it when I played." I reminded him as I shifted my stance. He only chuckled.

"Do you want the ring or not?" He smiled daringly. His wit was aggravating but he only continued to dangle the ring in my face. I wasn't, however, about to give up my brothers ring for some foolish dare, so I stood for a moment before groaning and reluctantly walking to the corner in which my guitar stood pristinely.

"You're a real wise ass Winston." I grabbed the guitar by the neck and lifted it from the stand before walking to my bed to sit. He laughed as he followed me. "Hmm, I wonder where I've heard that before?" He remarked as he crouched down to my height. "Okay..." I sighed as I looked down to my guitar, "what song Winston?" I looked to him as I positioned myself to start playing.

"Hmm..." He began conjuring up an idea, and suddenly, as he came up with a song, his eyes widened with excitement. "Crossroads." He snapped his fingers and pointed to me. "Eric Clapton?" I furrowed my eyebrows further, looking for confirmation. He nodded in response to me as he sat excitedly.

"He plays in Cream, right?" He questioned. I nodded and sighed again as I reran the song through my mind, trying my best to remember the notes. I quickly tuned the guitar while speaking,"Thanks for the challenge." He nodded before I looked down to the guitar and set my hands to the first playing position, once again rerunning the chords and notes throughout my mind.

"You gonna play?" Dallas broke me out of my thoughts, causing a groan of annoyance to escape my mouth. "Do you want the song or not?" I grew loud. "Yes." He said. "Jesus Christ." He continued to mutter as his eyes turned to the floor. I rolled my eyes at his expression but quickly turned my attention back to the guitar as I once again gathered my thoughts. "I'm not singing by the way." I mentioned. "Fine." He sighed as he waited patiently for me to play.

I sat still before taking a deep breath as I began to play, my fingers moving up and down the frets quickly, almost as if they had been dancing gracefully across the guitar. Dallas, who sat still, looked to me with awe as he payed keen attention to my fingers and the way they plucked the strings nearly perfect. He sat almost as if a statue, he didn't seem to blink and neither did he breathe. I couldn't help but give out a slight chuckle and smile at his actions, for I'd never seen him so intrigued by something other than anything illegal.

I grinned as I stared back to the guitar, playing more perfectly than I ever had before. I got a bit nervous, though, when I neared the solo, but I tried my hardest to sit strong and confident as to not mess it up. I gripped the fretboard tightly with apprehension as I started on the guitar solo, my hands a little sweaty and stiff. I kept my focus steady while my hands moved on the frets and plucked the strings. The sound of string squeaks could be heard due to my hand dragging along the strings, but both me and Dallas seemed to enjoy it as we both grinned at the sudden noise.

He smiled wildly and sat with great pleasure as I continued to play, another giggle emerging from my lips at his actions.