My Rockstar's World

Chapter 46

We finally make it to the studio. Bawdy has been working on some cords on his guitar, while I've been alternating between working on a paper and looking more into the study abroad. Although, most of my focus has been on the study abroad.

Bawdy takes a break and comes to sit next to me on one of the bean bags. I already told him about it, and he looked as excited as a little kid getting a puppy. He's already talking about when I go to Amsterdam, and I have to keep reminding him that it's if I can go.

"I don't know where to start on these essays," I groan. That's the only part that isn't fun about this process. It'll be fun when (if), I get to actually be there.

"Why don't I just get someone to write them for you?"

"You can't be serious?" Although he certainly looks serious.

He just shrugs his shoulders. "Why the fuck not?"

That just seems too wrong. A tiny devilish part of me says to take him up on that offer. But, I need to be the one to write these. If I'm going to get this opportunity, I want to do it fairly.

"You know that would be wrong. Would you have someone write a song for you and say that you did?"

"Good point. I'd never let anyone do that. You know I just want to make life as easy for you as possible. I really want to make sure you get into this."

I love the way that he wants to give me the whole entire world, but I am bit stuck on him wanting to make sure that I get in. "You don't think that I can do it myself?"

His eyes widen. "Gianna, you know that's not what I meant at all. You're such a smart girl."

I exhale. I know I'm taking some of my anxiety about school out on him. "Sometimes I don't feel like it." I play with my hands in my lap, avoiding looking at Bawdy.

"You're definitely smarter than me."

I laugh under my breath. Technically he never got a college education, but that does not mean he's not smarter than me. I'm sure some of the people who report about him think that he's just some crackhead musician with no brain cells.

He does coke, not crack. There's a difference.

"Not as talented, though." God, why am I beating myself up all of a sudden. Maybe it's knowing that I'm going to see my parents and my judgmental sister tomorrow. I guess I'm just getting ahead on shitting on my life.

"What I do really isn't that hard."

I shake my head and look at him. "You've been playing and making up crazy combinations on your guitar. I could never learn to play."

"Let me teach you."

"That could be fun sometime."

"No, now," he says while standing back up.

"I should really work on this," I say while motioning to my laptop.

"I can tell you're stressed. This will be a good break to get the gears turning in your head." He reaches out his hand to grab mine and pulls me up. Bawdy really can read me well, and I appreciate that. It's hard for me to put my own emotions into words, so they sometimes just build up until I explode. From spending more time with Bawdy, I've noticed that he has picked up being  able to read me better each time that he sees me.

I take his hand and let him lead me into the recording room. He hands me an electric guitar. It's heavier than I would have imagined and feels way too big for me. I don't think I've ever actually held a guitar. My mom tried to get me into playing the piano when I was younger, but I never really enjoyed it. And I was not getting better from lessons. I swear I lack most musical bones in my body.

Bawdy walks behind me, making me feel small sitting beneath him. He closes the space between us by bending down close to me. He hands me a guitar pick in my right hand and moves my fingers under his to the strings.

"Alright, we're going to start simple with a C cord." He moves my fingers to the correct spots. "Now make sure you're only holding down one string with a finger."

"This feels funny," I say trying to get used to spreading my fingers like this. I'm pretty sure my hands are too small for this. It must be so much easier for Bawdy with big hands.

I look over at my fingers and keep them in place. "Good," he says. "Now, we strum." He moves my right hand up and down across the strings. As he lets go, he adds, "See, you're a natural. Look at that."

I continue strumming, smiling to myself. It's only one note, but I feel more accomplished than I have in a long time. I also love having him teach me something. He's so delicate. I'm sure he'd be amazing working with kids. My skill level being the same as a six year old.

I laugh at the thought of him playing with kids or even holding a baby. His big muscles and hands being bigger than their bodies. While he would look so out of place size-wise, I can tell that he would be very gentle and make them feel special.

He shows me a few other cords and has me slowly work on moving between cords. After having my fingers stumble over one another, I finally start to get it down. Although I'm moving at two miles per hour between cords. I don't know how he is able to play so well and fast.

"Here, let me add some bass to it." He grabs another guitar and instructs me to keep playing as he joins in. A huge smile goes on my face. So many people would die for this opportunity. "Look at that. You're ready to join the band."

I laugh. "No one on your team, especially your publicist, would like that." I know he's joking, but I bet if I said that I wanted to join, he would let me. I haven't experienced so much genuine happiness in so long while doing something new. Having Bawdy as my teacher just makes it so much better.

I don't know how much longer I can go without screaming to him that I love him.