𝗕𝗘𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗦 𝟭𝟴+ | 𝗦𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗲

2. ANOTHER LIFE

October 4th, 2016
Munich, Germany

"IS JÄGER HERE?" The haze clouding Søren's mind vanished the moment those mesmerizing hazel-green eyes fixed on him.

"T-that'd be me," the woman replied with the initial shock slowly disappearing from her features. He was used to all kinds of reactions, but calmness wasn't one of them.

"Oh." His expression remained stoic as his eyes trailed over the light freckles covering her nose and cheeks.

All he knew about this Jäger guy after finding Woodverse's Instagram among his suggestions was that he was a great artist. The engravings, the details, the combination of colors and materials, the smoothness of the finishes. Everything looked beautiful.

I do what I want. 😼🤘 If you're interested, drop me an email—I don't answer DMs.

Weirdo. What kind of business presentation was that?

Anyway, the metalhead didn't care if Jäger was an old fart living in his mother's basement. He could turn plain and boring, and sometimes destroyed, instruments into real masterpieces. And that Gibson displayed in their feed a few days before... it had to be his.

Søren didn't like to typecast people because he hated being a target for those kinds of easy—usually wrong—judgments himself. You know, tabloids only cared about the juicy details to sell, even if it were lies. But he had never met a woman who was so good at such male-dominated handiwork. Much less one so gorgeous.

"I hope it's not a problem that I arrived earlier than we agreed?" He gave her a half-smile, trying to seem approachable since most people found him intimidating at first.

"No, of course not. Come on in, please." She stepped aside to let him in, her eyes falling to the floor as she gestured with her right arm. She had her sleeve half rolled-up, which gave him a glimpse of the dark reddish-pink lotus flower over black brushstrokes inked on her inner forearm.

Wondering if that tattoo held a specific meaning, Søren walked into the apartment, looking around. It reminded him of the first one he lived in with Alex and Astrid when they moved to downtown Oslo. Exposed brick walls and pillars giving the open-plan space an industrial feel. Big windows with black frames, high ceilings, a wooden rustic coffee table, a couch and an armchair that didn't match. Modern yet cozy. Then he saw them. Two guitars on their stands and a couple of amps beside a shelf that held close to a thousand music albums.

"Do you want anything to drink?" she asked from the kitchen.

"Do you have Monster or something like that? If not, a glass of water will be fine," Søren said as he turned to her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He nodded, taking off his bomber jacket and leaving it on the armchair.

He needed to rehydrate his system. After receiving a gut-twisting phone call, and a party that lasted the entire weekend, he woke up with soreness even in his eyelids. I've definitely gotten old. The next couple of nights, before traveling to Germany, were full of old nightmares. Confusing. Disturbing.

"I have Coke," she said as she peeked her head from behind the fridge door.

"Water then." No way was he going to drink that bubbly poison that reminded him of other times.

He looked at her as she tiptoed to get a glass from one of the cabinets. She wasn't very tall and didn't seem to have exuberant curves hidden under her baggy t-shirt, but she was gorgeous and he had to admit she had a nice ass.

"Want some ice?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Intrigued, Søren watched her as she opened the freezer. He was used to the squeals, the clingy groupies and anonymous fans wanting to get to know him. Most women were flirty or nervous around him even if they didn't know who he was, but she wasn't doing any of that. It had been a long time since someone made him feel so disconcerted. It was strange. Not unpleasant, just unknown.