I'd never consider myself the best guitarist, let alone the best singer. But playing guitar was something I loved to do. I've been taking lessons for several years at my local guitar store which offered music lessons. I guess I could consider myself lucky with being able to know a couple of chords, thanks to my father, who's played his entire life.
When I was offered the chance to sing a song of my choice at the annual open-mic at the store, I couldn't refuse. It was the closest I would ever be to performing in front of a audience.
My teacher and I worked on a couple of songs; I wasn't confident about them either. I'm good at low voice, but at a high voice, not so well.
With the microphone in front of me, I started to perspire; there was more than enough people than I had hoped. What had I got myself into? I should have known this was a bad idea.
Luckily, it was over fast. It wasn't near as bad as I thought-people laughing and leaving or throwing food at me. Now all I wanted to do was get something to eat. I hadn't eaten all morning because I have a serious phobia of vomiting of any kind. I disconnected my guitar, well the guitar I was provided with, from the amplifier and handed it to my teacher.
He smiled and said, "Good job."
"Thanks," I replied, my voice still shaky.
I walked to where my mom, my dad, and my granddad stood. Mom hugged me.
"You did wonderful!" she shouted. I just smiled and headed for the door. I felt so embarrassed and I didn't know why. I just felt as though the whole room was staring at me. One of the instructors, who knew my granddad, gave me a pat on the back as I started to leave.
"Hey, you did a great job. I enjoyed watching you," he said.
I thanked him and began, once again, heading for the exit. That's when someone grabbed my shoulder, not to rough, but enough to make me jump a bit. I turned around, rolling my eyes. I couldn't stand to get one more compliment on my mediocre performing.
"You did an excellent job," the soft voice said, a British accent hinted; that was strange around here. I looked up when I realized it wasn't my mother or anyone I knew. He was new to my eyes. And my eyes were not letting him go. He was…..gorgeous. That's the only word that could describe him. His grey-blue eyes looked into mine as he spoke. His perfect jaw structure. I couldn't really tell much about his hair because he wore a black toboggan over it. But from the hair that hung lower than the hat, he had a brownish blonde hair color, maybe even what you would call sandy blonde, just darker.
I didn't realize I was just standing there, looking into his eyes, until I blinked. I shook my head to get back into reality.
"Oh, thanks. My first time so it probably wasn't my best. Definitely my last," I laughed. Damn it! There I go again. Fishing for compliment. Just like my mom said, I thought to myself. My mom would always think that when I say something bad about myself, I expect to get compliments and comfort from it. Actually, I hate compliment. When I say I'm doing bad at something, I really mean I'm doing something bad.
"Oh, no. You should really do it more often. You're really good. Natural sounding." Hook, line, and sinker. There was the compliment. I prayed to God he didn't think I was begging for that.
"Thanks." I made sure this time I didn't say any negative responses. Even though I didn't mind him giving compliments. His voice was velvet smooth. That was the last thing I said to him before I headed for the exit. I got my hand on the door and started to push.
"Hey, wait!" he called. I turned around. I felt my eyebrow raise in question. "What guitar were you playing. It had good acoustics, way better than mine."
He was still talking to me. This beautiful man, who I had no idea where he came from, was still talking to me.
"Uh, I really don't know. It wasn't mine. I just borrowed it," I replied. No need to show off and act like I knew the exact guitar brand-which I did know. It was a squier by Fender; exactly like my dad's. "It's the same on as my dad has. Mine's a Jasmine by Takamine." There went the bragging; as least I wasn't saying it was the best.
"Really, I have the same thing. Mine's new though," he said, shrugging.
"Oh, that's cool. I got mine as a Christmas present about 5 years ago. Guitar playing runs in my family. My Granddad and my dad both played. So, I guess I'm next in line." Wow, talk about corny jokes. He chuckled though.
"How long have you been taking lessons?"
"About 2 ½ years," I said, proudly.
"Wow! So you must know a lot of techniques."
"Uhh, just what I've been taught," I stuttered.
"We should….get together some time ..and play, you know," he said sheepishly.
What the heck? Was he just asking me out? I didn't even know his name.
"Sure. That sounds like fun. Well, um, I'll see you around." I started to back up.
"Wait!"
I turned around, my face was certainly red by now.
"Do you want to…I don't know. Get something to eat and see a movie tonight? I know this nice coffee shop we could hang out at."
Oh my God. I was being asked on a outing; I wouldn't call it a date.
"Um, yeah, sounds good," I said, my stomach in frenzies.
"Here's my cell number, just text or call when your ready and were you want to meet," he said as he ripped a piece of paper from his wallet and scribbled it down with a pen from his leather jacket. He handed it do me. "Talk to you later."
"Yeah, I'll-I'll talk to you later," I said, stumbling over every word.
He smiled at me and walked out the door. I waited a few minutes before I went out, I didn't want him to think I was stalking him already.
I unlocked my parent's car door and sat in it. I waited for my parents to slowly make their way out to the car and take me home, so I could get ready for a…date. I looked at the crumbled piece of paper in my hand. I wanted so bad to message him right then, but didn't want to give in already to his charm. It was hard not to. He was so handsome and I had no idea why he wanted to talk to me. I looked below the number. Robert. So, that was his name. I smiled to myself.
My parent's finally got in the car and we went home. I didn't know the first thing about getting ready for a date; I hadn't been on one in forever.
