He found glasses in the first cabinet he opened. He poured us each a shot, grabbed a piece of cheese off the platter, and popped it into his mouth. He swallowed, held his glass up, winked at me, then shot it back.
“That’s perfect! Now your turn.”
I grabbed a piece of cheese, ate it, and then drank the tequila, slower than recommended, I’m sure. “Gross! That was disgusting! Your theory sucks, Will.”
“I know, I just thought we needed an icebreaker.” I rolled my eyes at him and he playfully elbowed me.
I opened the bottle of red wine and poured us each a glass. Will put a Muddy Waters record on from my father’s collection. I stood in the kitchen while he sat at the bar on the other side of the counter.
“I would’ve never been able to find a room for this price, especially where I could play my guitar. I just wanted to say thanks again, I really appreciate this.”
“You’re welcome. It’s nice to have the company and I think Jackson will appreciate it too. By the way, I wanted to ask if you can take him out when you’re around if I’m not here?”
“Of course, I’d be happy to. I love dogs. I always wanted one growing up, but my parents didn’t need another mouth to feed, you know?”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
We continued chatting for a while. I went off to my room to change into sweats and my favorite old faded Clash T-shirt. When I came back out, he smiled at me and said, “You’re cute. This is gonna be like a slumber party, huh?”
I rolled my eyes. “Not exactly.”
We polished off the wine and I reached for another bottle. I wondered if it was a good idea, but we seemed to be getting along really well and we were keeping it clean, so I figured why not. During the song “I’m Your Hoochie Coochie Man,” Will pulled a harmonica out of his pocket and played along perfectly to the music. I felt inspired and a little tipsy, so I went over to the piano and played some slow boogie-woogie blues along to the song. He walked up next to me like he was going to sit, so I stood and turned the piano bench perpendicular, allowing him to sit behind me. For me it’s too hard to play when someone is seated right next to me at the piano. We sat back to back. When the song ended, I started right into a medley of famous blues songs while he accompanied me with the harmonica. We continued drinking the second bottle of wine on the couch.
He sat down next to me with his acoustic guitar and said, “This is a song called ‘Little Mia.’” Then he smiled really big. As soon as he started playing, I knew it was the song “Little Martha” by The Allman Brothers.
I laughed. “You’re a cheater.” He winked at me, but I was quickly distracted by his playing. I looked down at the angel wing tattoo as he plucked the guitar strings. I could see the muscles in his forearm moving; his strong and accurate fingers played the song perfectly. He watched me intently the entire time while I thought about other uses for his skilled hands.
When he finished the song, my chest was tight and I felt that familiar ache I got in his presence. “Play something for me,” he said.
“I think I’m too drunk.”
“That’s the best time.”
“Okay.” I stumbled over to the piano and sat down at the edge of the still-perpendicular bench. I couldn’t even see straight as I started fumbling over the keys. The melody for the Tori Amos song “Icicle” started to form and I leaned forward to concentrate. I played the haunting parts haphazardly and loud. I got completely lost in the moment and began mumbling something from the song about feeling the words. I was feeling it, that’s for sure. I was feeling it right on the edge of the piano bench until I realized Will was gawking. He looked completely stupefied and then he smiled really big. I felt my face flush and my heart race.
I immediately stopped playing and in a very determined voice I said, “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Will.”
“Goodnight,” he murmured breathlessly.
As I stood up, I tripped over my own lame feet and fell smack on my face in the hallway. “Ow! Fuck!” He was at my side in a second, hoisting me up. When I stood, I noticed he had a curious look in his eyes. He grabbed my chin with his index finger and thumb and tilted my head up.
“You okay, baby?” he said with a crooked, cocky smirk. Oh, that sexy smile. I couldn’t even respond. I just stared up at him, mouth slightly open. He closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss me, but instead his face met the palm of my hand.
“Jesus Christ, Mia, I was just gonna kiss you.”
“No, Will, this is what I mean. We have to keep it just friends.”
Then it happened. I said something I wished I could take back as soon as it came out of my mouth. “You’re not even my type!” He looked shattered and dumbfounded. I stalked off to my room feeling nauseous, embarrassed, but more than anything scared that I had hurt him for no good reason.
Track 4: Cheers, Baby
The next morning I was woken up by Jenny plopping down forcefully onto my bed. I covered my face with the blanket, shielding my eyes from the light. “Mia, it reeks of alcohol in here.”