Shot in the Dark (An Eddie x Y/N Story)

Les Paul

The next day is Saturday and Dustin and I have mom drop us off at the mall to do some shopping. Dustin apparently is meeting up with some friends to discuss the next D&D campaign, but I have one mission for today; buy a new guitar.

I head to Guitar Center and set about looking on the wall at all the different guitars they have to offer. I know I want an electric guitar rather than an acoustic and I at least still have my amp and equipment from my previous guitar, so I'm set otherwise. My last guitar was a Fender Stratocaster and they are pretty common, so I look over those as well as the Telecasters. I take a few off the shelves and hold and play them, testing them out. The Stratocasters are definitely more comfortable to hold, but the Telecasters are a little bit easier to play. I chew on my bottom lip as I try to weigh the pros and cons in my head.

"Have you thought about a Les Paul?" a voice calls from behind me and I turn to see Eddie standing there with his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish.

"You know, stalking is a serious crime Munson." I warn, crossing my arms over my chest and looking up at him. He smirks.

"I am actually here to meet Dustin and the guys, but I saw you in here on my way to the cafeteria." He's wearing a plain long sleeve black shirt tucked into black jeans today with all his normal jewelry. His hair is damp and when he steps forward, I can smell fresh soap and cologne. He points up at the wall to a Les Paul and looks down at me.

"You said you like metal. All the greats are using Les Pauls. I'm not sure if you're familiar, but you could give them a try. Or you could try a Warlock. That's what I use."

My eyes widen. "You have a Warlock?"

"Yea she's beautiful," his eyes light up as he talks about his guitar and a small smile tugs at my lips. I don't necessarily have the funds for a Warlock, but I mule over the idea of a Les Paul. He is right about them being popular with heavy metal bands. I've never played on one though.

My eyes scan over them and they land on a blue Gibson. Eddie follows my gaze and smiles. He reaches up and takes the guitar down for me, motioning for me to sit on one of the stools behind me. I sit and he hands the guitar to me, placing it gently in my lap. My arms encircle the instrument and I tilt my head slightly as I start to strum softly. I love the feel of it in my arms. The sound is good and it just seems to fit. I smile widely and look up at Eddie who is grinning from ear to ear.

"You look really good," he says suddenly and I straighten, my face falling slightly. I blush and clear my throat and he seems to realize what he just said because his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck and he looks away.

"I mean you look good with the guitar. It suits you really well. As though it was meant to be yours."

"Oh, thanks," I say softly and stand. I'm glad I listened to him. I feel much better about this guitar then any of the others I had originally looked at. "Now I just need a strap and some picks and I'll be set."

"They usually hide the good picks back here." Eddie said, moving toward the back of the store. "Don't buy the ones near the counter. They suck."

Eddie continues to usher me around the store, talking animatedly about guitar care, picks, and equipment and I find myself listening enthusiastically. I've owned and taken care of guitars before, but he does things so differently and they make so much sense that I find myself wanting to pick his brain. I ask him questions about strings and about the amp I already have at home and we wind up talking for a long time.

Dustin, Mike, and Will stumble into Guitar Center looking around until they spot us, huddled over different straps. Eddie is measuring out the appropriate size, making sure I get the right one and we are talking about replacement amp cords when Dustin steps forward, his hands on his hips.