playing the guitar

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Adams pov

I headed into the police station for another day of working an eight to twelve hour shift when I stopped. The station was empty. I checked the clock in the station. Shit. My watch must be fast.

I took a seat in an empty chair and pulled out my guitar. I hummed to myself as I stummed a few cords. My ex-wife used to hate my playing. She was always complaining about it. I gritted my teeth at the memory of her. Fucking bitch!

My strumming was cut short by some clapping. Well that's not a sound I'm used to. I turned around and saw the last person I expected to see.

"Lute?" I raised an eyebrow.

"So you come early too. And here I thought you were the tardy type" she smirked.

"I am. Me coming here early was an accident" I scratched the back of my head.

"Of course" she rolled her eyes before walking over to me, leaning over my chair "I didn't know you played"

"Well there's a lot you don't know about me" I shrugged "you like it?"

"Well I don't like a lot about you but I gotta say your playing isn't bad" she chuckled lightly.

"Well you've got good taste for a pent up bitch" I smirked.

"How gracious of you" she rolled her eyes. For once we weren't at each other's throats. It was nice.

"Hey" I spoke up "theres a rock concert coming up. Maybe we should go together to you know work our shit out"

"Yeah that sounds nice" she blinked in surprise.

"Cool. I'll pick you up then. Peace!" I walked away, leaving her red faced and confused.

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