It was a dream come true. The one boy I'd had my eyes on listened to me played guitar, and he liked it. At first, he just sat and watched, his green eyes shining brilliantly in the sun. I stopped, wondering if there was a problem, but he quietly demanded I keep playing. So I did. I did every song I knew for that beautiful boy, hoping, praying, that he liked it.
Sweat lined my upper lip and forehead, and it felt like there was an earthquake in each hand. But, somehow, I played every note perfectly. Every single one. He stared at my fingers, and I wished he would give me a clue as to what he thought. And as if reading my brain waves, he started swaying slowly side to side, his eyes closed and a small grin on his face. All my nerves melted away, butter in a frying pan. All the world was gone, except for him and me.
But regretfully I stopped, what seemed only moments later. I had played everything I knew. His eyes popped open. "Are you done?" he said nonchalantly. I nodded grimly, wishing I could have played for him forever. My fingers longed to pluck the strings again, letting the soft vibrations echo out of the innards of the guitar's wooden body.
He stood and said softly, "Would you consider being in a band with me and my friend Zip?" He smiled as, it he could smell my excitement after hearing these words. "Just come to the library at 2:30 on Monday. Okay?" I nodded again, this time much more eagerly. And with that, he walked away, as if nothing had ever happened.