Set Me Free// L. Staley

18. Sparks

Rowan frowned as she reached over, touching his forearm gently. 

"You have yourself as an audience. It could be healthy for you to write for, you know, yourself!" Rowan explained, watching as Layne's blue eyes met hers. "Or, you know, I'm always here, as an audience, if you ever feel the need to 'perform' somethin'."

Layne smirked, looking at Rowan as he rolled his eyes. "Was that a jab for me to play something for you?"

Rowan held her hands up in defense. "Hey, hey, I didn't say anything, but...you know, the offer is there...but only if you need it."

He nudged her once more, removing the guitar from his lap, holding it out to her. "If that's the case, maybe you could play something for me, too?"

Rowan held her hands out, waving them back and forth in refusal. "Oh, hell no. I clam up playing the guitar."

"You did such a good job playing last time, though!" Layne urged, inching it further in Rowan's direction. "C'mon, please?"

Rowan eyed the guitar wearily. She debated whether or not to accept the instrument. In her mind, Rowan felt she would make a total fool of herself, the nerves getting the best of her. All she could imagine was hardly mustering a coherent melody, sounding like nothing but jumbled notes and deformed music.

"I don't know..." she mumbled, her eyes flicking between the guitar and Layne. "I haven't practiced in quite some time."

"Who says practice is important?" Layne retorted. "Just hearing music sounds nice; it doesn't matter how good it sounds."

"Are you sure...?" Rowan sighed. "It's just- well, you have this whole music thing down pat. If anything, I feel like you'd find amusement out of my mediocre guitar playing."

Without uttering a word, Layne placed the guitar into Rowan's lap, adjusting it accordingly. "It's funny that you think that just because I made music as a profession, it makes me not mediocre."

"Does it?"

"Well, yeah," Layne said with a shrug, scooting over, so he was leaning against her shoulder comfortably. "I was a singer, Rowan. I did play guitar here and there, but I was never a Jimi Hendrix."

Rowan sighed, looking at the guitar that sat in her lap.

"You know," Layne started, leaning closer to her. "I can play a chord to get you started."

Rowan rolled her eyes, pushing him away playfully. "Oh, c'mon, I'm not that mediocre."

"You sure are talking yourself down like you are," Layne admitted. "I've heard you play once before, and I loved it. I know you've got more than one song up your sleeve to play."

She blew out a long breath from her mouth, her small curls resting against her face flying in response. "I suppose that's true..."

"Exactly!" Layne began, hitting her shoulder gently. "What's a few songs that you know?"

Rowan came to a blank, strenuously humming as she thought of a few songs she knew. Though there was nothing wrong with Nirvana songs, those were the only pieces of music she knew. Her high school days paid off when she received her first guitar, playing Nirvana songs on the instrument until her fingers went raw.

Aside from them, she only had random songs, ready and memorized, at her disposal. Overall, her Nirvana knowledge clouded any other artist, and she didn't know whether to feel ashamed or proud of her "obsession."

"Uh," Rowan paused. "I hope you like Nirvana...?"

Layne broke out into a goofy grin. "I don't know if Kurt would be proud of you or creeped out."