All The Wild Ones | Wildfire Series

Skinny Love

GRAYSON

I instantly regretted it—barging into her room. Because based on the look on Nessa's face, I scared the shit out of her.

"Christ, Grayson!" she yelled, throwing a shoe at me. Which I dodged. "What the hell?"

She threw another shoe at me. Dodged that one too. One day I would show her that she couldn't beat my reflexes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," I said, meaning it. "But goddamn, Adler. You didn't tell me that you sing."

It took her a few moments to recover, and I half-expected her to tell me to get out. But she didn't. Nessa settled back onto the futon, laying the ukulele down beside her, a blush blossoming on her cheeks.

"I don't sing."

Bullshit.

"Yes, you do. I could hear you singing from the hallway."

She made a face, and it was adorable. Even if her next words weren't. "Why are you such a creep?"

I laughed before shrugging. "Why do you sound like a fucking angel?"

Nessa looked away with a sigh, but I didn't miss the slight smile that peeked out from the corner of her mouth. She had on a slouchy, cream-colored sweater with a short skirt today, and she wiped her palms over the black tights covering her legs.

I knew that tights were supposed to add a layer of modesty to an outfit, but goddamn. The thought of peeling them off Nessa made them into more of a temptation than if she'd been wearing nothing on her legs at all.

"Shut up. I'm not very good." She gestured to the ukulele, and I snapped my attention away from her legs. Shit, maybe I was more of a creep than I realized.

Luckily, Nessa didn't seem to notice. She was still side-eyeing the instrument, speaking quietly. Almost timid. It was unlike her. "I just like playing for myself. Or sometimes a friend like Madie. Or Bren."

I couldn't contain my frown. "Who's Bren?"

"Bren? Oh, he's—he's just a guy that used to work with me." She paused. "But there's not a lot I know how to play. Like I said, I'm not very good."

"That's not what music is about anyway."

"What?"

"Being good. Music isn't about mastery. It's about feeling, Nessa. The whole point is just to feel something."

Her wide eyes blinked at me like I'd just spoken in a different language, and she couldn't figure out how to translate it. "Tell me what you play," she said suddenly, tilting her head to the side. "You never did."

Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I leaned against the bed frame, smiling at her. "I play a lot of things."

"Like what?"

I shrugged and then listed off the one instrument that I thought might appeal to her the most. "Guitar, for one."

Nessa wasn't typically a predictable girl. In fact, I was pretty sure this would be the one and only time that she'd respond the way I hoped. But I would take it. Because her eyes lit up, and her whole body leaned forward. And what I wouldn't pay for her to react that way every time I walked into the room.

"I've always wanted to learn how to play the guitar," she said, wistfulness in her voice.

Score.

"I can teach you sometime."

She immediately shook her head, dampening my celebration. "No," she said. "I just know I'd be hopeless at it."