BLACK CRESCENT

CHAPTER EIGHT

P A S T

D A Y 4

CAMILA

"Do you play?" She asked, as she noticed the guitar hidden behind some of the boxes in my living room.

"I wish! My sister is pretty decent, though she just started learning," I replied, as she stood up from our small picnic of wine, popcorn, and sandwiches.

"Do you think she would mind?"

"Not at all," I said.

I had bought the thing for Sofia anyway, so I figured that I was at least entitled to hear it being played every once in a while.

Taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch, she picked at the strings. With her head cocked to the side, and her eyes closed, she listened intently to the tone and the pitch of each string, pausing every so often to adjust the tuning. She strummed through all six strings, measuring them against her internal tuning scale. Satisfied, she opened her is eyes and smiled at me, then, as she drew in a deep breath, she began to play.

I closed my eyes for a moment and listened to the sound of his music. As I followed the melody, the tune took form and I opened my eyes to stare at her.

"I know this!" I said as I sat up excitedly, trying my best to not spill any wine.

She laughed, "What is it then?"

Shit.

"I know it, don't tell me!" I repeated, trying to remember.

Urgh.

She kept smiling, as her fingers slid up and down the neck of the guitar with ease. She looked so relaxed, as if she could spend the rest of her life shirtless with a guitar in her hands.

"Damn it," I cried out in frustration, I knew this song!

She glanced up at me, "Give up?"

"No. Don't I get to call a friend or something?"

"It's "More Than Words" by Extreme," she said with a grin.

"I would have gotten it," I muttered. "It was on the tip of my tongue."

"Okay," she said with a tone of teasing.

"Anyway, where did you learn to play?" I asked her, desperate for a diversion.

"My father taught me," she replied. "I was horrible at hitting on girls when I was in high school, so he taught me to play so that I could woo the ladies," she said with a chuckle.

"You had issues with girls? was it because of your intersexuality" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah for me it was something really traumatize and I know It's so hard to believe because I'm so devilishly Beautiful, right?"

Rolling my eyes, I threw some popcorn at her, and she managed to catch a few in her mouth.

"Do you want to hear the story or not?" she asked with mock annoyance.

"Alright, so Ms. Sexy-green-eyes had girl trouble in high school, go on."

"First of all, try to imagine me overweight with no muscles definition,  acne, and thick glasses."

I laughed. I didn't mean to, but I laughed.

"You're lying."

"God, I wish. There was even a rhyme."

"No!" I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to stifle the bout of laughter that was threatening to explode out of my lungs.

"Did you realize that Lauren was left seaside and her face got stuck in beehives?" she repeated the taunt that had no doubt haunted her throughout her high school career.

"Kids are awful," I told her, feeling sympathetic.

Note to self; make sure Sofia  isn't being bullied.

"Yeah," she laughed it off, "my dad told me that girls were a sucker for anyone who knows their way with a guitar. And me, being a horny fifteen-year-old girl, I saved up everything I had, to buy myself one. And it worked to a degree; I was bullied less, and some girls thought it was sweet. When I grew out of my awkward years, everything changed though. My high school reunion was a blast for my sister and I," she said with a laugh.

"Was she awkward too?"

"Taylor? Ha! No, she's always been the rebel of our family. She was one of those rare few that never cared what anyone thought. She'd wanted to come along with me to see how the prom queen and the quarterback looked ten years later. She laughed for days. Everyone thinks of her as a wild child, but she's a lot more sensible than most people give her credit for. You know the club we met at?"

"Twenty-Four?"

She nodded. "She had stashed away every penny that anyone had ever given her, be it birthday money, or Christmas money or even her weekly allowance. She kept it all hidden under the floorboards of her room. By the time she graduated college, she had almost twenty grand to her name. She took that money and put all towards opening that club," she said beaming with pride.

"Your parents must have—"

"Lost their shit," she finished. "They did. But it worked for her. She made it work for her," she smiled.

She seemed to be really proud and fond of her little sister. In a way, she reminded me of Sofia.

"I'm glad it worked out for you," I said, as I leaned even more into the couch.

"What about you, what were you like in high school?"

"Urgh. No." I groaned, not wanting to go there.

"Come on," she urged, "it can't possibly be worse than the rhyme."

She had a point.

"Let's see," I mused, wondering just how much I should reveal. "Well, I was twenty pounds lighter had no curves and was a teacher's pet, that about covers it," I nodded, wishing that I could have avoided this conversation."