hey rockstar

one hundred four ; start with us

I settle myself into the couch outside, computer propped up on my thighs and a warm coffee on the table. Calum is somewhere in the house on a phone call and so i finally have some quiet to do a bit of writing. I open the document and stare at the image of a piece of paper. I can't think of anything at all. So i stare at the page for an hour, maybe more until I hear Calum and his guitar come out of the back door.

"A cocktail for the lady," he hands me a tall glass with something pink in it. I furrow my eyebrows at him trying to decipher what it might be. "Gin, mum refilled the booze cabinet."

"What a lovely lady," i take the glass and have a sip. It's shockingly sweet for a gin drink, but its still good. He flops into the space beside me with a dopey smile on his face.

"What have you got done?"

"Absolutely nothing," he looks shocked at first, but his expressions softens greatly when he sees he disappointed look on my face.

"Well what's happening right now?"

"Well, i had like 100 and some pages but they were horrible so i deleted it and restarted," i lean my head back.

"Why would you do that?"

"Cause it sucked!"

"You're too hard on yourself and you know that."

"Doesn't matter, they were still terrible. SO i deleted them," He turns slowly strumming on his guitar. "I want to be a writer but, i'm apparently horrible at writing."

"You know, when i first thought that i had wanted to go into music, i didn't know how to play an instrument. Or sing well for that matter," i stare at him dully, not seeing his point. "I practiced, and practiced, and learned what worked for me. And then i practiced some more because what else are you going to do."

"Well, you have a natural talent now don't you?"

"I do, but so do you. And writing takes a lot of time, effort and a lot of your brain. I know song writing isn't the same but sometimes that is my least favourite part because it feels like nothing is ever working."

"Well you write te most beautiful songs, and i write-"

"Beautifully. You know you do. And i know that i can't convince you that you do but what i can say is stop deleting shit!"

"Why?"

"Because you can reread, and revise. I don't care if it ends up taking a whole chapter, or you have to leave it for a month before you keep writing just don't delete it!"

"But i like deleting it," he rolls his eyes at me as dramatically as possible.

"I love you, but sometimes you're kinda dumb."

"What a lovely thing to say to your fiancee."

"Look, i keep the songs i hate, you keep the writing you hate. And start working on your book now tell me what it's about."

"Well, it's about us, but not as directly us as i can possibly make it."

"What does that even mean?"

"I mean it's just a boy and a girl that meet, and meet again and meet one more time before...something happens i don't know yet."

"Well, let's start with us."

"Okay."

My fingers hover over the keys trying to think back all those months ago. Not just about the sory but the feelings and the looks and the uncertainty we faced. How quickly we moved but how sure we were at the same time.