Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue #1)

“Hand me your music comp. notebook and I’ll transcribe it for you as you play.” Genuine excitement laced his face as he pulled his shirt down over his head.

“Um, I don’t have a comp. notebook. What part of I don’t play missed your ears,” I said with mocking eyes.

“You’re killing me! Wait here, I’ll get mine from my car.” He grabbed my chin and gave me a butterfly-inducing kiss before he dashed to his car.

When he returned, he sat on the couch and handed me the guitar I’d left sitting in its case. My breath rattled through the room as I inhaled.

“Why are you so nervous?” Bo asked in complete seriousness.

“Well, this is a little intimate. I’ve seriously never played for anyone besides my family. You sneaking up on me at the beach doesn’t count.” My face heated beneath his smile.

“Babe, we’ve covered intimate quite well already. Play.” He slapped the notebook off of my knee and sat back, pencil in hand.

Babe? I like it.

With one more cleansing breath, I shifted so I was sitting cross-legged, facing him. I threw the strap over my head and rolled my shoulders to help relax, which didn’t really help. I closed my eyes and started strumming the lullaby my parents taught me when I was little. It is a slow, swelling song that hangs mainly in the lower register; it sounds like the guitar is putting itself to sleep. It flows wonderfully and could cause lovers to dance and cry at the same time.

Once I let go of apprehension enough to feel the song through my soul, I lifted my head to look at Bo. He was studying my fingers, scribbling notes and rhythms as fast as he could. When he caught my eye, he nodded in encouragement, and returned to work. His hands were beautiful. His long fingers sat artfully in his masculine hands; it looked like he could break the pencil any minute, but his hand glided gracefully across the page.

When I strummed the last cord, Bo asked me to play it again so he could fill in the parts he’d missed. I had no sarcastic comment for him - I wanted to do it. I could play this song for this man all day. When I finished the second time, he looked at his notebook and gave me an accomplished smile.

“Gorgeous. Hand me your guitar so I can see if I got it right.” I surrendered it without hesitation.

He set the notebook on my coffee table and began to play. They were the same notes, and the same beat, but it sounded so much more beautiful coming from his fingers. He studied the notes closely the first time through. When he finished, he immediately started again. This time his eyes were closed, but his forehead disclosed his concentration. He was trying to feel the notes as they should come, and he didn’t miss a single one. His body swayed slightly as he rode the wave of notes coming out of his guitar. I grabbed my cell phone and recorded him playing. He cracked a smile when he opened his eyes and saw the phone, but looked to the page and kept playing. When he finished, I pressed stop and impulsively sent the video to my mom.

Me: This is Bo. He’s using my guitar. He wrote the notes to that lullaby as I played them – this is him testing his transcription.

Within two minutes my phone dinged a response.

Mom:I see you chose reckless abandon. Excellent. Love you?

My heart swelled anew when I saw my mom’s message.

“Who’d you send that to?” Bo asked.

“Raven - uh - my mom,” I shrugged and smiled.

My phone dinged again, but this time all sensation left my face and my stomach threw itself out the window.

“What’s wrong?” Bo set the guitar down.

“It’s Monica. She says that Josh is there, and he’s drunk - she’s freaked. It’s ten a.m.! Shit!” My heart raced into my throat.

“I’ll drive.” Bo shut the door behind him as I was already halfway down the stairs.

The two mile drive to Monica’s house felt inordinately long; I counted the feet with each heartbeat. Bo reached across the car and put his hand on mine.

“Has this happened before?” He asked.

“Not that I’m aware of,” I shrugged, “but they’ve never broken up before.”

“So, we don’t know if he’s aggressive or anything?” Bo’s dark tone refreshed my anxiety.

“I guess not, but Monica didn’t indicate anything . . .” A sob choked my throat. If Josh was drunk now, he was still drunk from the night before - when I verbally assaulted him.

“Maybe I should go up first and check it out - make sure everyone’s ok.” Bo said as he pulled in front of Monica’s building.

“Thanks, but screw that. She’s my best friend and he’s being an asshole. We’ll go together.”

I sent Monica a text to let her know we were downstairs, rather than ringing her bell, so she could buzz us in. As the buzzer rang and the door unlocked, I looked at Bo and grabbed his hand for a split second before sprinting up the stairs.

“Jesus, hold on!” He flew after me.

As I reached the top of the stairs I heard voices and paused a second to listen.

“Josh, just drink the water.” Monica sounded annoyed, which was a good sign. On that note, I decided to knock and enter.