What If

What If I Say No?- Part 3- Damaged Goods

What If I Say No? - Part 3- Damaged Goods

It was strange waking up somewhere other than my own bedroom with my music note sheets, my black comforter, my poster of Cassie Jenson and her blue Les Paul guitar; Lex. Instead I woke up in a California king, which was way too big for one person, under a gray blanket, sunlight streaming in from the window, hitting the white walls, and illuminating the entire bedroom.

My feet find their way to the cool hardwood floor and a long, lingering chill slithers up my spine. “We’re not in Kansas anymore,” I snort. My guitar looks back at me, peeking out from her guitar case. She was taunting me. Begging to be touched. For me to pluck away at her precious strings. Tessa knows I’m weak against her siren’s call. I pick her up by her slender neck and tip-toe past the threshold. I didn’t know if my new roomy was sleeping or at work, since we never wen t over any real details. I drove around the city for a while before I actually found the house. Even when I did find it, it took some convincing to believe I had the right house. It was a two-story modern home with large square windows that had no curtains or blinds, probably because none fit. The stairs led up to the porch which was more like a platform with a table and chairs set up for a game of chess. Then there was another circular glass table off to the side with an orchid sitting on top. Stone pillars held up the lighted shelter for the porch and ran up the side of the house like a chimney. I pulled in the long drive, parking outside the garage, in awe.

Even after spending a night there, I couldn’t believe it was real.

I slid my feet across the floor to keep from making noise as I inched my way into the living room. There was a gray shagged rug that laid sprawled out in front of the long, white, wrap-around couch with black throw pillows. There was no television. Just a low black top coffee table with silver legs and one of those modern bookcases with white and black square compartmental shelving. I made my way past the couch over to the wall-sized window where two lounge chairs were placed facing out at the Hudson. I dropped myself into one of the chairs, finding it one of the most comfortable things I’ve ever sat in. I pulled Tessa close to me and began to play.

The song from yesterday was still pumping through my veins, begging for some sort of release. Once I put my fingers on the stings, it was like I was possessed by the lyrics and the song was playing me. We dance around the fire. Forget about her, forget about her. Love me until you’re tired, and you forget about her, forget about her. Cause when you dance around the fire, you’re goanna get burned. Then I seamlessly transitioned into the first verse. Your eyes glow like the embers raining from the sky. You look at me with hunger, like a hunter on the rise. I was not the innocent bunny-rabbit I pretended to be. You and I were both pray to the cat and mouse chase, weren’t we? I fell back into the chorus. I was surprised by the acoustics of the room as my song was carried out of me, bouncing off the walls like an echo and being carried back to me. I was afraid of being too loud, but I couldn’t stop. Memories of Caspen whirled around me like a tornado.

The first time we kissed. That longing in his golden eyes. The passion erupting between us. Catching flames. No matter how hard we tried, we could never stay away.

The song was burning in my bones as the next verse came pouring out of me. Your touch melts away the snow (forget about her, forget about her). I can love you until your hurt is gone (forget about her, forget about her). Let the head of our breath fog up the window. The desire in our hearts could destroy this whole damn world! My fingers glided over the strings like the song was already imprinted into my muscle memory and all I had to do was open my mouth and let it all out. I struck down hard on the strings. They yielded, providing a powerful, beautiful, pained sound which reflected my own feelings. Feelings I didn’t even realize I had. It was so overwhelming… Third degrees… I felt like I couldn’t… Can’t breathe… You destroy everything in your wake. No, you’re not the only one to blame.