"Heart Strings"
Tabitha’s fingers curled around the neck
of her guitar, stretching in every direction. “I can’t do it. My fingers don’t
bend that way.” Stupid guitar.
“Remember your wrist." Sam reached
over and delicately adjusted Tabitha’s grip. His touch sent shivers up her arm.
Moments like this kept Tabitha coming back for lessons every week.
With more attention to her wrist, Tabitha
formed the chord with her left hand and strummed the strings with her right. A
twang and a thunk emitted from her instrument. She sighed.
“Don’t get frustrated. Press the strings
firmer.” Sam’s voice was calming.
Another attempt. This time, a few
melodious tones accompanied the twang.
“See? Better. Just keep practicing and
your fingers will get used to that position. Your muscles will get stronger.”
Sam glanced up at the clock. “Well, that’s our time.”
Tabitha latched up her case. “So, I’ll see
you next week?”
Sam chewed his lip. His face reddened. He
was kinda cute when he squirmed. But what was the matter?
“Actually, I can’t be your teacher
anymore. Ross Johnson has an opening at this time, so he can take you.”
Tabitha’s heart sunk all the way to her
stomach, and a wave of nausea hit her. But why couldn’t he be her teacher? Was
she not progressing enough? Did he feel she wasn’t a good student? She didn’t
want a new teacher. If it weren’t for Sam, she would have given up the blasted
guitar ages ago. “I don’t understand. Are you leaving the store?”
“No.” Sam shifted in his seat. “Conflict
of interest.”
“What does that mean? Conflict of
interest. What’s conflicting?”
“Teachers aren’t supposed to date
students.”
Did he just say that? Tabitha’s mouth slowly
fell open, but she couldn’t formulate any sounds. They sat in silence for a
good ten seconds, though it felt like forever.
“Say something.” His eyes searched hers.
Those amazing, caramel eyes with the gold flecks.
She needed to hear him say what she’d
been wanting him to say. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“I…uh…” He rubbed the back of his head.
“Tabitha, I think you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Inside and
out.”
Her heart started beating out the rhythm
of a rock song. A smile crept into her lips.
Sam continued, his eyes now glued on the
floor. “I understand if you don’t feel anything for me, but I just can’t sit
through another lesson and pretend I can concentrate on trying to teach you
anything. I’m sorry I’ve been such a bad teacher.”
“You’re not a bad teacher at all. If I
didn’t hate the guitar so much, I might have cared more about being a good
student.”
“You hate the guitar?” His head cocked
along with his brow.
“Playing it? Yes.”
“But why are you taking lessons?”
Realization and surprise crossed his
face. Then a smile. A big, toothy, heck-yeah kind of smile. “I…you… This is
awesome! Can I hug you?”
She nodded, and he leapt from his chair
and pulled her into an embrace. It was better than she dreamed it would be. He
smelled pretty gosh-darn good.
“So you’re not mad that I won’t be your
teacher?” he asked with his hands still around her waist.
“Not at all. I’m relieved. Now I can
quit. I think I’ll leave the guitar playing to you. Feel free to serenade me
anytime.”
“How about we start with Friday night?”
“It’s a date.”
This piece was written as a submission to a magazine, but was not selected for publication. The rejection notice was actually really nice and complimented my writing. The lady said she hoped I would submit again. So...not quite a success, but the positive feedback is uplifting. I had submitted another story which was also rejected. Read it here: http://laradelliott.blogspot.com/2017/09/ringless.html
This piece was written as a submission to a magazine, but was not selected for publication. The rejection notice was actually really nice and complimented my writing. The lady said she hoped I would submit again. So...not quite a success, but the positive feedback is uplifting. I had submitted another story which was also rejected. Read it here: http://laradelliott.blogspot.com/2017/09/ringless.html
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