~Stringed Hearts~ GEORGEBUR

3. Coffee and Chill

3. Coffee and Chill 

*George Davidson*

As I stare at the skies, the deeper meaning of blue continues  to struck my heart. I have started my morning with a rainy day, and a stormy afternoon had been planned to do so. And since, Lady luck wasn't with me this time. I still don't have an umbrella.

Wilbur kneel down below the awnings and made a small opening on his guitar case that can fit a hand to reach something...

I hope it is it's brown umbrella.

But I'm still thinking of who can be my partner for the guitar competitions. My Mom wants me to join and so I, but the only critical problem that I am thinking about is that I don't know where to start. If I should be the one that is asking for help to have acquaintance, then I should be the one that knows more...

It may also put a shame on our family if the son of the greatest guitarist on town have no idea what his father is doing. 

A shadow had somehow blocked up the remaining glimpse of shine in the cloudy noontime. A wide shadow that completely devours of my height. I looked up, seeing a tall figure just behind me. It scared the whole soul of me but then I realized it's just that blank face guy.

"You better stay at my umbrella, it's small and so are you," he coldly joked, clutching the guitar case behind his back. Blank expression remained.

"Hey," I tried to brute up my voice. "Don't be a bully, Wilbur Gold," 

"How did you know my name?" He asked as he raised one of his brows. 

"I am not a deaf person Wilbur," I lavishly looked at the blank expression of his eyes and smirked. "I heard it on Clay, a couple of minutes ago. Do I mind if I can ask a question? Do Clay and you know each other?" 

He lazily stared at me. "No," 

"Then why can I feel an argument heating up in the both of you?" Wilbur turned back at me while holding his brown umbrella as he started to get pissed off on what I am just saying. " Hey Wilbur Gold, don't just turn your back on me, I am asking a question!"

The big man takes small steps, but then he later stop as he heard his name.

"Don't call me Wilbur Gold," he stopped beside the sidewalk, grunting on annoyance.

"Why?" I simply questioned.

He looked back and showed a blank expression of his raging disbelief to me.

"Then what do you want me to call you? Mr. Wilbur?" I could hear a heavy sigh from him in just a meter away. "That sound so bad, it sounds like your a tyrant that's about to blow up a nation,"

"You can call me Will," then he continued to walk ahead of me, leaving his trail.

"Hey, so you know where The Davidson's Cafe are?" I sarcastically questioned, knowing he is too bad on directions.

I hear another sigh.

I scoot over the awnings as I notice my guitar case getting slightly wet, and a heavy palm then again weights my shoulder.

"I thought you knew," I tried to piss him off.

"Come inside my umbrella, I hope there's a room for you," he looked up at the sky as he said those words at me.

"Why do you need an umbrella it's not even raining-"

He grabbed at my right hand and exposed it outside the umbrella. But why do instead that I can feel the cold rain, is that I could feel more of his warm palms. Why do I can hear the heavy breathing on his chest and it glides my skin. It just feels weird that I could also feel his warm breathing, and as the light rain showers pelts my skin, I can't help my heart to thump so fast. This feeling is new... and very weird.