Eddie lived in a trailer park just outside of town. It was raining again when they pulled up on the grass, so he ran to open the door before unloading his van. He looked exasperated when Rosie appeared beside him.
"Can I take something?"
"No need, thanks. Get inside before you get soaked."
"Not until you give me something."
He rolled his eyes, guitar already strapped to his back and struggling with the amp. "You can take these."
Rosie took the loop of cables he thrust into her hand and gave him a stern look. "I can carry more than that."
"I'm sure you can, but I'd prefer you go inside before you catch something."
"Not moving til you let me help."
For the first time since they met, he seemed genuinely annoyed at her. He wrestled the amp into his arms. "No need."
It slipped as he spoke, and she grabbed one side of it, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Really?"
It was hard to make out in the dim, but she was sure he blushed. He argued no more, and let her carry the amp in with him. They dropped his stuff just inside the door. The place was small, with a kitchenette right on top of the living room. Eddie scurried over to close the bathroom door and immediately started sweeping stuff into a trash can.
"Sorry, it's..." He stammered. "Sorry. My uncle doesn't have much time to clean before he goes to work."
"You should see my bedroom."
Eddie nearly dropped an armful of cans. "Excuse me?"
"Clothes everywhere. My mom always says it looks like a bomb hit it."
"Haha! Well. Clothes are better than whatever this is." He sniffed the plate and winced, dumping the whole thing out. "Sit. Please."
She sat, trying not to be too obvious about brushing crumbs off the sofa. Eddie continued to trot around the place, clearing up the worst of the mess. "Does your uncle work nights?"
"Yeah. Almost every night. I'm mostly here alone."
"Cool."
He tilted his head at her. Clearly no-one had ever called his home "cool" before. "Hungry? I just found the pop-tarts. There's strawberry orrrr blueberry."
"Blueberry, please."
Eddie arranged four pop tarts on what appeared to be the only clean plate. Finally, he placed them on the sofa beside her. He hesitated to sit down himself. "Do, um. Do you want to see my guitar?"
"Yessss!" She declared happily. "Are you going to play something for me?"
"You just saw me play a full set!" He protested, but he was already tuning the instrument.
"Not for me!"
Eddie paused. "You didn't like Hallowed?"
It took her too long to understand. "Did you play that for me?"
"You didn't like it."
"I did!"
"I'm sorry I'm not Bruce Dickenson."
"It was great!"
"Those long notes, man. I just can't do 'em."
"They're impossible! Even he breaks them up, sometimes."
"I was terrible."
"No! I - you - !" She spluttered, then noticed his smirk. "You're fucking with me."
He wiggled happily. "And I got you!"
"Just a bit."
"Yeah, right." He flopped down on the sofa, the plate between them, and started to strum. Nothing outstanding, just a few slow riffs. Nothing she recognized.
"Is that yours?"
"What?"
"What you're playing?"
Eddie stopped strumming, flexing his fingers. He looked at her sheepishly from behind his hair. "Yes. It's not much. Unfinished."
"It's good."
"No it's not."
"It is!"
"No. I don't even have any words for it." He coughed. "Lyrics are hard."
"I'd say so."
To her surprise, he held the instrument out. "Do you play?"
Rosie shooed the thing away like she was afraid of it. "Nooo! Not at all."
Another smirk. "You listen to all these bands and you've never picked up a guitar?"
"Just when I was a kid. I don't remember -"
He was already easing it into her lap. Taking her hands and putting them on the neck and against the strings. "Here. I'll remind you."
"Uhh..."
"Chords are easy. Try an E."
Her mouth was dry, but she moved her fingers into place. He was watching. She stroked the strings.
"Perfect."
"Th-thanks."
"D."
Rosie tried it.
"C?"
That one rang clear.
"You do remember!"
"A little."
"Try an F?"
Her fingers were stiff, and she strings were new. They were hard to press down. She struggled, pulse rising. "Shit."
"That's fine. Just press a little..." He gently tried to hold her finger against the first fret.
"Shit!"
"Are you okay?" She knew he could feel her hand trembling. That only made it worse.
"I'm sorry, I can't."
"I didn't mean to upset you." Eddie looked like he might hug her, but she held the guitar up to him instead.
"Can you please take it?"
Breathing was getting hard. He quickly took it away and laid it aside.
"Rosie. What's wrong? Did I -"
"It's not you." She wheezed. "Not you. I just...Um. Can I use your bathroom?"
"Yes. Of course."
The door slammed behind her, and Rosie leaned over the sink, fighting off a wave of nausea and trying to remember how to breathe. She remembered what her father taught her: slow breaths, count to ten. She lost count a few times, but eventually fought off the spots in her eyes. The faucet gurgled after a few turns, and she splashed cold water onto the back of her neck, onto her chest and lightly over her face, careful not to mess her makeup. Despite the color, she took few sips, too. In the mirror, she still looked red, so she waited til that cooled down, closing her eyes and pushing the panic away.
Eddie started as she emerged. She had scared him far more than she realized. "You alright?"
"I'm okay now." Rosie eased back onto the sofa, offering a smile. He was still showing the whites of his eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Don't you dare apologize." He replied. "You said you didn't want to play and I just...I didn't listen."
"You were being nice."
"No, I was being a jerk. I'm no better than that old dude at the bar."
"No!" She snapped, not liking the comparison at all. "Not even close, Eddie. I just...I get really anxious sometimes."
"But it's better now?"
"Better now."
He still didn't look her in the eye. Instead he faced the counter, twisting his rings. She rubbed her fingers in her skirt, feeling the strings pressing into her skin.
After a long while of side-eyeing, he spoke: "C-c-can I ask why?"
"Uhh."
"You don't have to answer. Just so I don't do it again."
She wanted to reach out. To take his hand. Instead she clasped hands in her lap. "You can ask."
Eddie finally faced her, with guilt in his eyes. His face was so expressive, and it was obvious he was a little freaked out. She felt guilty, in return.
"When I was maybe 6 or 7, my mom started signing me up for pageants."
He chortled in surprise. It was a relief. He even pulled his hair up into a ponytail and batted his eyelashes at her. "You mean those things where people dress their daughters up like dolls?"
"Yes." She giggled back. "It was fun, actually. I wasn't that into it - I would have preferred to read in my room or run feral in the streets."
Eddie sniggered.
"I made friends, at first. And Mom and Dad were my biggest fans." Rosie continued. "Didn't matter what I sang or how I danced, they always cheered me on. Told me I was a star."
"No doubt."
Something about the way he looked at her then made her falter, face heating up again. "The other parents...weren't always so nice."
"Hm."
"It started small. A whisper here and there. A little remark." She couldn't escape his eyes now, where only moments before she couldn't find them. It made her tingle, and the memories didn't seem so bad. "The older I got the worse it got. I was stupid. Ugly. Fat. Talentless."
He made something like a growl. Fist punching the sofa behind him.
For some reason that made her feel warm. "One day I was waiting to go on, and I heard one of the girls - someone I thought was my friend - say something. Something silly about my hair. She whispered it to one of the others and they started laughing. And just like that I couldn't breathe."
Eddie clenched his jaw, a vein standing out in his neck. His eyes were dark. Boring into her.
"I ran to my mom. Hysterical. I just started screaming "I wanna go home! I wanna go home!"."
"What'd she do?"
"She took me home."
"Way to go, Mom"
His expression softened slightly, but she could tell he was still angry. She leaned back, tilting her head and savoring the intensity of it. He didn't even try to joke or fidget.
"She never signed me up for another one, after that. But I was never really able to perform. Even years later, when I tried to go to guitar lessons, if I had to play something in front of anyone I'd freeze."
"Anyone?"
"Except my instructor. I didn't mind playing in front of him. He was really chill, and super sweet." She tried: "Kind of like you."
Eddie beamed, finally, breaking eye contact. "I don't know about that."
Rosie wanted to say more. He enjoyed being flattered - and she enjoyed watching him melt.
"Want a beer?"
The moment was gone. She let it fly away. "Yes. Please."
He fetched two cans from the fridge, opening one and drumming the side a few times before handing it to her. He almost sat down, before he moved away again, throwing his jacket over his guitar. "Music."
Rosie took a gulp of her beer, grimacing at the taste. A pop-tart made it better, even if they were stale. She sipped and nibbled while Eddie rummaged around in his room, chatting thoughtfully with himself.
"What've we got?" She queried as he returned with two records in hand.
"A test."
"Oh you're testing me, now?"
"How the tables have turned." He held one up in each hand. "Black Sabbath or Ozzy Osbourne?"
Rosie pressed a hand to her mouth. "That's cruel."
"It is."
"Can I tell you a secret?"
Eddie shuffled toward her eagerly. "Absolutely!"
"I actually prefer Ozzy's solo stuff to Sabbath."
He almost fell to his knees in mock-shock. "Oh my god!"
"Is that bad?!"
"You know what. I don't agree with you. But that was very brave."
"I think it's more about trust."
"And I am honored that you've entrusted one of your deepest, darkest secrets to me."
"I'm glad!"
"Ozzy it is." He put the album on, swaying happily and turning up the volume.
"Sit." Rosie insisted, patting his spot on the sofa. He obeyed.
The music stopped their silence from becoming awkward Eddie fetched two more beers for them before they even finished. He hummed along with some of the tracks, and she smiled down at her can.
"Do you think," He finally said, jiggling his knees. "If Ozzy ever met Batman, he'd try to chew on his head?"
She nearly spat her drink. "What!"
"You heard me."
Rosie couldn't contain herself. All she could imagine was Ozzy Osbourne attempting to wrap his jaw around Batman's skull. "How?"
Delighted that he'd made her laugh so hard, he tried to explain himself.
