Chapter 3

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Chapter 3

My fingers lazily slide along the frayed carpet in search of my beer. The glass bottle is more to the left than I remember it being. I frown as I bring it to my lips, silently chiding it for trying to make an escape. There's not much left, so I'm forced to lap up the bitter froth caked around the rim.

Kelly strums his guitar in the background. Every once in a while he stops abruptly and pulls the pencil from his ear, scribbling notes across a sheet of paper with the ferocity that borders on madness. I used to get envious of the way he could write music. Now I just see it as a secret treasure that I'll be privy to enjoy before anyone else.

Truthfully, I used to be envious of a lot more than Kelly's musical abilities. We were four years apart in high school, but even back then, the differences between us were notable. Where he was popular and adored, I was gangly and blended in with the background. Where he was intelligent and athletically inclined, I was middle of the road and shamefully uncoordinated. Where he was good-looking and charming, I was plain and boring.

It wasn't until I graduated high school that I just stopped caring. Even though I knew he surpassed me in – well, just about everything – I got the prize of being able to call someone like him my best friend. That seemed to make all the rest irrelevant.

"Did that last hook sound like the one in 'Horseshoes and Hairpins?'"

I pull the beer bottle away from my lips and squint. "Play it again?"

Kelly strums a few chords, and his converse shoes tap along to the unique beat. I try to compare it to the hook in question and shake my head when he's done.

"No," I confirm. "They're completely different. They're both in 3:4, but that's about the only similarity I can tell."

Kelly smirks and jabs the end of his pencil in my direction. "You're learning."

"Yea," I scoff. "Only took me about seven years to pick up a thing or two about music."

He shrugs, the very embodiment of patience when it comes to my mediocrity. "Everyone learns at their own pace."

I roll my eyes and force myself into a sitting position. "Speaking of pace, I need to pick mine up if I plan on being buzzed by the time Fiona and her gaggle of crows come over. I'm way too sober to deal with that shit right now."

Kelly snorts but doesn't look up from his music notes. Once a month Fiona takes over their apartment and invites a handful of her friends over for a night of girl bonding. I'm not exactly sure what it entails, but it usually ends in high-pitched squeals and sickening gossip that tastes worse than the warm beer staining my lips.

"You want me to grab you one too?" I ask, standing and stretching my torso.

He doesn't answer right away. He's lost in the musical realm, and based on the early hour of the evening, he won't be joining me again for a while. I round the corner of the living room and pad my way across the kitchen floor. The refrigerator seems to beckon to me as I pry it open and reach for two more beers. When I bring them back out to the living room though, Kelly is standing and frowning at his phone.

"What is it?" I ask.

"I got an alert from my vamp," he mutters.

"You need to go feed sometime soon?"

"Not soon," he answers. "She needs me now."

If I didn't know any better, I'd say that he almost sounds worried. It's hard to tell, though. Kelly isn't the type of guy to let fear edge its way into his mind. He's known for always dealing with situations using a clear mind and a sense of ease.

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