Girls Who Play Guitars

•it's not okay to, just, look ... like that•

~THAT EVENING, THE HOTEL POOL~

~BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA~

Ellie made herself at home on a lounge chair by the side of the hotel pool in her new black bikini. All day her skin had sucked the sun's rays into it like a thirsty dog. She couldn't believe how much she'd missed the purity of a big sun and the way it seeped into her and left a warmth that lasted for days; weeks even.

She had sunglasses on under a big floppy hat. She had her notebook with her, ready to be filled with lyrics she had floating around her head, and a cold beer to relax her.

In the pool in front of her, Kim swam lazily about on her back, drifting from one end of the empty pool to the other, making the most of the quiet.

Ellie gazed at the water where the reflection of the azure blue sky reminded her of Daniel's intense eyes. Much to her annoyance, she'd been noticing him in all the newspapers and music mags. His cocky, assured grin seemed to be everywhere. Glue videos were on all the music shows. Even on the news. And their songs were on all the radio stations. She'd turn off every time they were mentioned.

She wondered if it would be good to tell Kim she'd had a blow-out with Daniel. See if Kim had any wise words on about how Ellie felt about him. But when she looked across at Kim floating along the top of the water, peaceful and relaxed, she changed her mind. They had too much going on already. The court case and the tour and Kim's parents. Ellie didn't need to add anything else to their already over-amplified chorus of worries.

Ellie took a swig of beer, put the bottle on the side table and picked up her notebook. She rested it on her knees and flipped to a blank page; tapped her pen against her chin—

The door to the pool area flew open.

Meg burst into the courtyard carrying a huge multi-coloured blow-up beach ball with James, Glue's bass player.

"Look who I bumped into!" Meg danced over in her tiny white bathers. "Now it's a pool party!"

When Ellie saw who followed with a sedate swagger, her stomach twanged like an untuned guitar string.

***

Wearing nothing but a pair of turquoise board shorts, Daniel Armstrong sauntered towards Ellie. Because she'd only ever paid attention to his animated, boy-child, angular face, it seemed curiously arousing that he strutted a fully grown man's body. Of course he did. He was twenty-five years old. And all twenty-five years of him were right there in the flesh.

His pale English skin glowed pure white in the sun, and dark blond coils of hair darkened his chest and stomach down to his shorts. He wasn't as skinny as Ellie thought. Filled out across the chest and waist and thighs—he didn't have a wash-board stomach or six-pack, but, to her—and she didn't want to admit it to herself—he was fine.

More than fine.

Shit.

Ellie dropped her eyes to her notebook and pretended to scribble on it; pretended to act casual as if it were no big deal that her heart had launched into a wailing saxophone solo that could have summoned George Michael.

When Daniel stood in front of her, shading the sun from her legs exactly the way he had in her dream she risked looking up.

He passed a hand over the base of his neck and Ellie lowered her notebook to stare at the dark curls under his armpit and the way his shorts gripped low on his hips when he stretched. She closed her mouth.

Daniel popped the cap open on a tube of sunscreen with his thumb. "Fancy a rub down, Devine?"

"I'm fine," Ellie spouted, her voice at a ridiculously high pitch. She pressed her toes into the warm, padded material of the sun lounge, trying to be grumpy with him about Brenin but all she could think of was her still-fresh raunchy dream starring Daniel as the romantic lead. Vivid flashes of it kept appearing in her mind – his firm hand on her calf, his gentle lips close to hers, the way her body came alive as his fingers reached her thigh.