Everyone has a song that captures who they are. No one but Leila Gonzalez can hear them.
Melodies and tunes fill her head everywhere she goes, and all she wants is to replicate them in her songwriting. There's just one problem: she sucks at songwrit...
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SUNRAYSBATHEDLEILA with their warmth as she walked out of the apartment complex in the heart of Hillbourne. The city streets bustled with movement. Cars honked at each other and people walked the sidewalks enjoying their afternoon stroll. She tightened her grip on her trusty guitar case and crossed the street towards Mr. Johnson's bakery.
Just as she was about to pass it, a familiar jazz tune entered her senses and Mr. Johnson himself walked out with a sign. His white button down covered in a mint green apron covered his front, contrasting with the dark color of his skin. The mint green reflected the outside of his bakery almost exactly. His face broke into a grin right then as he saw her.
"Little Leila!" He opened his arms wide, still holding onto the black and neon pink sign with one hand. "How have you been?"
Leila couldn't help but smile at the old man. Mr. Johnson owned Dominic's Sweets, the best bakery in all of town. People traveled to get the best cupcakes they'll ever taste. He opened up the shop when he was fired from a stable job back in his late thirties, and had his late wife working right beside him. The bakery was his pride and joy, and he'd tell the origin story to anyone that asked with glee.
"Doing good, Mr. Johnson," she replied. "About to get guitar lessons." She motioned down to her guitar case.
"One day you have to play me a song," Mr. Johnson pointed the sign at her before placing it by the door, visible to anyone that walked by. It read: Combo special! Get half-off coffee with any purchase of your favorite cupcake.
"I'll think about it," Leila said with a sheepish grin.
Mr. Johnson belly-laughed. "All you do is think, little one. But one day I hope you play your old man a song."
Although she had a deeper complexion, Leila was convinced that the heat in her cheeks was visible in the daylight.
Ever since she took up guitar, Mr. Johnson begged for her to play him a song. When she was little, she used to sing all the time in his shop. The late Mrs. Johnson would coo at her and ask for an encore. Mr. Johnson would then give her a free cupcake and then press his finger to his lips.
Leila wondered if he would give her a free cupcake if she took him up on his offer for a song.
"One day," she promised. He laughed and waved goodbye as she left, a smile on her face.
After a fifteen minute walk, Soul & Strings appeared before her. The fogged up window panels covered in recent announcements caught her eye. Instruments for sale usually took most of the space, but a recent addition was in the mix: the Hillbourne Music Fest flyer.
Leila rolled her eyes at the bright splatter of paint and pushed open the door to the music shop. That cheery jive flooded her mind, and she bit back a smile. She frowned when she saw that Mr. Ferrer wasn't alone. He leaned against the register counter with his hands, speaking with a guy whose back was to her. He made eye contact with her and brightened up.
"Leila! So glad you could make it," Mr. Ferrer said. He motioned to the guy, who then turned around to face her. She had a flashback to the week prior to seeing that one teen with the graphic band tee. His swept back dark hair and eyes that glistened with imminent danger were unmistakeable anywhere. "This is my nephew, Neil. He's going to be your temporary guitar teacher."
Neil Ferrer, lead guitarist of The Heights.
Leila had known Mr. Ferrer for most of her life, but she had never connected the fact that his nephew was part of the band with the most terrible reputation in all of Hillbourne.
"I think you have a fan," Mr. Ferrer joked. Neil chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.
Leila scoffed. "As if! Is this really my new teacher?"
Mr. Ferrer managed a grin that was a mix of sheepishness and a wince. "For now?"
Neil stepped forward and held a hand out to her in greeting. Leila was so shocked at the act of decency, she stared at it like a lunatic. Finally, she shook it, just to be nice. Every fiber of her being told her to run out of Soul & Strings, leaving behind the instruments lining the walls and smudged floors. One look at Mr. Ferrer made her stand her ground. The poor man was trying to keep his shop together, especially after his main teacher quit.
"Hopefully, this can be a great opportunity," Mr. Ferrer said, clasping his hands together. "For both of you."
Leila raised her eyebrows and looked to the side. Any eye contact from either Ferrer would send her into a terrible spiral. The cheery jive in her mind didn't help.
And that's when she stopped.
"So, shall we get to it?" Neil asked.
He didn't have a song.
The silence echoed louder than any song that had ever infiltrated her senses. Neil led her to the classroom she knew more than anything (more than the chords of her guitar), and asked her to sit all the while she couldn't stop staring at him.
She narrowed her eyes at him. Maybe if she forced it, she could hear his song. Neil turned to her and grabbed a seat, frowning as she stared the top of his head down.
"Is everything alright?" he asked. Leila muffled a grunt and sat back on her squeaky faux leather round chair. "You're not the normal type of fan I've met."
"Okay, let's get one thing clear," Leila leaned forward. "I am not your fan. Whatever you think is happening, it's quite the opposite."
Neil smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. "Is that so?"
"Yes," was her curt reply. "Now are you going to actually teach me or what?"
He grinned fully, reaching back to grab his guitar from the neck. The beautiful red Gibson guitar sat on his lap as he tuned it right, and Leila had to snap out of it to reach for her guitar she bartered for at the pawn shop.
"I'm definitely going to be enjoying this, huh?" Neil broke the silence. She gulped and finished tuning her guitar.
"The only reason I'm agreeing to this is because of your uncle." Leila positioned her guitar comfortably over her thigh and held the neck with her preferred hand. "Don't test me and we'll be just fine."
Neil smirked but shrugged.
She tried to stare him down in hopes of finding his song buried beneath, but he went on to strum a melody, distracting her from digging into his soul for the song that sang loudly about who he was. But she got nothing.
He stopped strumming with a halt and pointed at her. "Alright, now let's see what you got, firecracker."
