Clutching Sean’s hand, I follow him into the backyard of the house. The overgrown grass swishes against my ankles as we pass a pond on the side of a large deck and up to a prim green and gray storage shed in the corner. Brushing my hand over my ankles, I cringe, hoping not to run into any crickets or spiders preparing to crawl up my cuffed jeans. I turn to the house and ask, “So, this was your old house? It’s nice.”
“Yep. It was nice. It’s twice as big as our house now, but I’d rather be there than back here with my dad. I only miss this place.” He slaps his hand on the shed’s door.
“Right. That makes sense and I didn’t mean that your house now isn’t nice or anything.” I fumble for something better to say but nothing comes out.
“I know. I know you’re not like that.” He reaches under the ledge of the shed’s window and pulls out a small box and slides out a key.
“A secret key? Should I be worried?” I ask, more excited than worried but also feeling a little worried that I’m so excited.
“About what? That someone’s going to report us for trespassing?”
“No, that you’re about to take me into a creepy shed for …?”
“For what? To show you my old favorite hangout?” He unlocks the door and faces me, “I’m not going to try to get you to you know—”
“Sleep with me in a creepy shed?” I ask biting my smile.
“Um, wow. Sometimes you surprise me. But yes, I mean no. No, I’m not trying to sleep with you in a creepy shed. I think more of you than that. But I did see how you were looking at me at the drive-in so hopefully you’re not disappointed about that. Even though I’m not trying to ‘you know,’ I hope you’ll come check it out in here anyway.” He pushes the door open and grabs my hand again. “Unless you’re really not comfortable. I’m not trying to make you feel like—”
“Sean.” I drop his hand, slide my fingers up his shoulder and give him a quick kiss. “I’m just messing with you. I’m fine.”
Once we’re inside, carpet squishes beneath my shoes and it’s pitch-black as soon as Sean shuts the door behind us. He clicks on the flashlight of his phone, pulls a piece of cardboard off the wall and slides it over the windowpane.
“What’s that for?”
“It covers the light.” He reaches up and pulls a string that lights up the room. “I used to put that board there so my dad wouldn’t know I was in here at night when—or if—he’d come home late.”
“Oh. That’s kind of … depressing.”
“Not really. This is where I’d play guitar and hang out. Wanna sit? The carpet’s not that dirty.”
“Sure.” I sit next to him on the floor. “So …”
“I’m sorry.” Sean frowns. “I guess this isn’t that fun. It was cooler in here with posters on the wall, my amp, and the mini fridge.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s still a neat hangout. What if you played your guitar?”
“What, like air guitar?” The side of his mouth curves into a half smile.
“No, your real guitar. The one I saw in your backseat.” I pierce his eyes with my stare. “Pleeeeease?”
“Can I really say no to you?”
“Nope.” My smile widens.
“All right.” He jumps up. “I’ll be right back.”
He leaves and returns after a few minutes, the guitar slung over his shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”
“Stop. Just play something.”
“Requests?” He sits across from me, adjusting the strap over his shoulder and the guitar in his lap. I’d take a picture of him with my phone if it wouldn’t make me look like a creeper. My daydreams never could’ve come up with something this good.
“Can you play something of yours?”
He taps quietly on the guitar with a grin. “That’s pushing it.”
“Just a little something?” I stare him down again, this time adding a pouty smile. “Please?”
He starts strumming something kinda slow, hip, and mellow. “Only because I can’t say no to those little freckles by the corner of your mouth.” He fumbles a little, glances up at me, then back to his guitar. “This is something I’m working on but don’t have the lyrics sorted out yet.” He continues to play, his hands focused, fingers moving fast, back and forth across the strings and sliding up and down. His eyes rest on the movements of his hands, while I marvel at the shy confidence in his … everything.
I get up and sit next to him, admiring his profile, feeling almost drunk with his woodsy scent, his music, his just being here.
He slows down, “So?”
“I love it. It’s different but familiar in a cozy kind of wrap me up in blankets and—”
I lean in and kiss him, and he kisses me back. “Thanks,” he says. “You’re cozy.”