Sketch

58 - Emmy

Dedicated to You4Real!  Inspiration hit.  Enjoy :)

I just can't stop watching Sam.  His voice sounds so much better than I remember.  It makes my heart melt and my lips curl with a smile.  He's just so Sam dressed in a band t-shirt and jeans, a pair of battered trainers on his feet.  His hair seems longer, falling into his eyes when he looks down at the strings on his guitar.  Everything he does sets my pulse racing.  It's amazing how much of a hold someone can have over me and seeing him again has started it all a fresh.  It feels just as exciting as it had the first time.

There's only one thing bothering me.  He hasn't apologised yet but something's telling me that he's going to wait until we're alone. 

I'm right.  That evening, after we've pigged out on pizza and Tandy and Tanya have gone home after celebrating my return all afternoon, it's just Sam and I left in the lounge.

He's watching the music channels and I'm sitting at the breakfast bar, a half full can of drink cupped in my hands.  The novelty of watching him still hasn't worn off.  He's sitting back into the cushions with one leg folded on top of the other but when the song changes he plants both feet on the floor and sits forward.  He props his forearms on his legs and cradles his chin in his hands.  He's staring so intently at the music video that I actually look away from him to see what's peaked his interest.

It's a Foo Fighters song, that much I know from recognising the band members on the TV, but I don't think I've heard the song before.  I smile when I realise how transfixed Sam is by the song.  I listen along with him, processing the lyrics and enjoying the music.  When the chorus hits, Sam sits up, a huge smile appearing on his face as he taps his feet against the carpet.

I get up to join him and when I sit down his smile seems to grow even more.

"Hi," he says.

I point to the TV.  "I like this song."

He nods.  "It's amazing.  I love the video.  I just."  He pauses as the chorus starts up again.  "This is going to sound so lame," he continues, rolling his eyes at himself.  "But I'd love to be where they are someday."

I follow his gaze back to the screen where huge crowds of people are crammed into arenas, singing along to the hits with beams on their faces.  Some of the audience have their eyes shut, enjoying the music for what it is.  Others are bounding all over the place.  My spine tingles as I imagine Sketch up on a stage like that, surrounded by hundreds of adoring fans.  It's the appreciation.  The feeling of mattering to someone.

"It gives me the shivers," he admits.  "Just thinking about being up there.  It would be like a dream."

I bite my lip, gazing at his profile as he goes back to watching the end of the video.  Strong jaw.  Straight nose.  Striking eyes and quirky eyebrows.  I'm smiling at Sam like he's smiling at the TV.

"We could do it," I say after a while, when the next song's started.  It's a retro Paramore song and Sam taps his feet to the drums blaring out of the speakers.

He looks to me, his eyes wide and his mouth set in a line.  "Now you're back."

I feel my cheeks warm at his intense stare.  "Thanks.  But I'm only a fourth of this band.  We all matter."

He reaches over to squeeze my shoulder and my skin tingles with pleasure under my sleeve.  "Yeah, we do, but we're so much better with you."

When he lets go I have to stop myself from leaning into him.

"Emmy."

I look up from my hands in my lap to see a serious expression on his face.  His lips are parted and his gaze is solemn.