Guitar Chica Ch.3
Disclaimer:
Me: Tripp, do you wanna do the disclaimer? (Asks sweetly and bats eyes)
Tripp: (Playing guitar wildly then looks up) What disclaimer?
Me: The one for this story
Tripp: But I don't wanna do the disclaimer!(whines and complains like a toddler)
Me: Just do it
Tripp: But-
Me: JUST DO IT OR I WILL CANCEL YOUR SHOW! JUST DO THE STUPID DISCLAIMER!
Tripp: Well!(reads off of script I gave him) Little Miss Purple does not own any characters except Lau, Samantha Rayne Jupiter, Ryan, Lexi, Cate and Andrew. There! I did the disclaimer. Happy?
Me: Very (does little fairy dance)
Samantha, Lau, and Me: And now back to the story!
Samantha's POV
Once, we got my entire duffel set from baggage claim, the guys led me out to this wicked cool purple animal skin van with the Iron Weasel band logo on it. "Awesome van!" I said, giving the van a once over. Tripp walked over to me with my guitar case. "Is this yours?" He asked in disbelief. "Yep. Sure is." I replied. "You play guitar?" He asked yet another question. "Yes. But no one takes a guitarist who is a girl seriously, so I play yet no one cared enough to listen." I reply, sadly. "I would." He said looking into my eyes. "Well, I heard you're quite the musician yourself. I guess I will have to hear you play sometime." I said, flirting intensely. "Same to you." He replied, smiling cockily, as if the conversation was going somewhere. "Come on, Casanova. Would you two care to get into the van?" My uncle said a little impatiently. We both blushed and got into the van. "Say, Samantha did you do something with your hair, because I could have sworn that your hair was brown the last time I saw you." Uncle Derek said from shotgun. Tripp and I smirked knowingly and I said, "Um, yeah. I dyed my hair this year. Just another thing to rebel against my father. He went bezurk but he just had to learn to accept the fact that I'm not a big fan of rules." For the rest of the car ride, Tripp and I had learned enough about each other to find out that we liked the same things, both had great taste in music, and that skinny jeans were totally dominating the rocker lifestyle. I was staying in the extra guest bedroom in Tripp's house. The band painted my room deep purple and had ripped up rock music sheets attached to all the walls. In a word it was perfect. I was sprawled out on my bed to make it look like I was asleep. I guess it worked because when Tripp came into my room and tossed me a pack of guitar picks and I caught it he jumped in surprise. "Sorry." I said with a look that looked like when you accidentally break something of your parent's and they catch you. "Oh it's cool. So you like the room?" He asked, sitting down in my office chair across from me. "Yep. It's better than my room in England." I replied, sitting up. "So how about I hear you play that guitar now?" He asked, smugly. "Fine. Fine. But don't laugh." I said sternly in my British accent. I grabbed my guitar and began to play.
I don't own the song "California King Bed"
Lyrics:
Chest to chest
Nose to nose
Palm to palm
We were always just that close
Wrist to wrist
Toe to toe
Lips that felt just like the inside of a rose
So, how come when I reach out my finger
It feels like more than distance between us
In this California king bed
We're ten thousand miles apart
I've been California wishing on these stars
For your heart for me
My California king
Eye to eye
Cheek to cheek
Side by side
You were sleeping next to me
Arm in arm
Dusk to dawn
With the curtains drawn
And a little last night on these sheets
So, how come when I reach out my fingers
It seems like more than distance between us
In this California king bed
We're ten thousand miles apart
I've been California wishing on these stars
For your heart for me
My California king
Just when I felt like giving up on us
You turned around and gave me one last touch
That made everything feel better
And even then my eyes got wetter
So confused wanna ask you if you love me
But I don't wanna seem so weak
Maybe I've been California dreaming
In this California king bed
We're ten thousand miles apart
I've been California wishing on these stars
For your heart for me
My California king
My California King
In this California king bed
We're ten thousand miles apart
I've been California wishing on these stars
For your heart for me
My California king
I looked up from my guitar and what Tripp said next shocked me to my very tip of my Rock Velvet Red colored toes.
What does Tripp say?
Is the start of a "relationship"?
Does he hate the song?
All will be told and answered soon my readers.
Until next time,
So long, farewell, and I forget how the rest goes but you know what I mean.
Dueces,
Miss Purple
