Learn To Love Again

CHAPTER 5 (Mia Hart)

I downed the remnants of the beer and made my way to the stage. I was intending to go for the piano, but the closer I get to it, my confidence started to dissipate. I stopped when I reached the stage. I still couldn’t do it. But if I back out now, I’d make a total fool of myself. I looked to my right and saw an acoustic guitar held by a stand. I grabbed it and took it with me as I sat on the stool.

I surveyed the costumers. Good thing they aren’t minding me. A couple was immersed in their own world, business colleagues seemed to be having a serious discussion and a group of teenagers were literally eye sexing a man seated alone in the far corner; more like stalking for they were secretly taking pictures.

This will be my first time to play in such an atmosphere and setting. I used play on a theater with a larger stage, an orchestra and greater number of audience. Not knowing how to start an open mic performance, I took a deep breath and went at it.

I plucked the strings and played my own composed song titled “Because I Miss You”. It’s the very same song I played on Dad’s funeral mass. I let my emotions fill over me and translated them to music. Jealous over kids that grew up with their mothers; betrayed over knowing that the father that I trusted the most lied to me and still dreadful over his death. But the greatest pain was that I was deprived forever of a mother and that I could never, ever have the chance to talk to her, hug her, kiss her and tell her how much I love her.

Tears started to form on the corner of my eyes, but I managed to finish the song without letting them fall. I was surprised when the entire bar applauded for me; I thought they were busy enough to notice me. Blood rushed to my head and my cheeks felt feverish. While emitting a stay-away-and-don’t-talk-to-me aura, I rushed back to my seat and poured another glass.

Shit! Jack! I promised I’d call him! How can I forget? He’s gonna chop my head off for sure. Should I call him now? But it’s already late; he must’ve gone to bed already. I was immersed in thoughts when I heard noise coming from my right.

“-Do you copy?” the voice said in a loud and agitated voice.

I jumped in my seat and turned my head to the source. The man that pulled me out of my reverie was looking at me with intense gray eyes.

“Your performance was great.” he said with a smile.

“Um… Thanks.” I managed to force a smile. Is my stay-away-and-don’t-talk-to-me aura faltering?

“Would you like some company?” he asked. “You see, I don’t have a drinking buddy and I figured that, like me, you’re by yourself. So, what do you say?”

Like I have a choice! You’re already seated comfortably next to me with your whiskey!  “Oh… Sure, why not?” I said.

I can’t really keep a conversation running, so this is your chance to scoot and skedaddle before you die of boredom! A silence then came between us. I took this chance to execute my so called awkward-skills and also, to discreetly check him out. Nasolabial folds lined his cheeks and he had a sharp jaw line. The guy had bleached blonde hair that went brown to the roots. And man, was it styled sexily. He was wearing a black leather jacket and inside, a gray low-cut shirt that showed his collarbones. Okay I admit it, he is hot.

 “So, what’s your name?” he asked. Huh, even a hot guy can ask the lamest things at times.

“Mia, Mia Hart.” I answered. “You?”

“Don’t you recognize me?” he asked. Is he trying to make a pass at me?

“No. I wouldn’t ask for your name if I did, right?” I shook my head.

“Seriously?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Wait, how did he do that?

I nodded.

“Chapman Square?” he asked.

“Nope, doesn’t ring a bell.” I shook my head.

He ran a hand through his hair. Now that was utterly seductive. OMG! Where did that thought came from?

“Why are you getting so worked up?” I asked. “Are you supposed to be popular or something?”

“Me? Popular? Not in this lifetime.” he shook his head.  “Ryan Fletcher, by the way.” he reached out his hand and I took it. The skin of our palms touched and I felt a strange tingle of electricity that sent butterflies to my stomach. I gasped and pulled out my hand. That was just static electricity wasn’t it? But the tingle still lingers and won’t come off.

I looked at Ryan and examined him once again. “Now that I look closely, you kinda look familiar.” I said.

 “We met this morning.” Ryan said. “You stumbled on the sidewalk and I caught you.”

Events from that morning came rushing through my mind. “Oh yeah!” I exclaimed upon realizing the particular meeting he spoke of. “Thanks again for that. If you weren’t there I could’ve cracked my skull open.”

“No big deal.” he shrugged. “I just happened to be at the right place at the right time.” He finished his first glass and poured another one.

“You play music?” I asked. This morning I thought he was a model; with his height and all, but after shaking his hand, I immediately knew he is a musician.

He nodded before drinking from just refilled glass.

 “Bass right?” I guessed.

Why did he suddenly turn mute? For a second, I thought he was wary of something.

“Are you a psychic?” he joked, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “How can you tell?”

“Well, the skin on your palm is rough, your fingers are callused and your outfit is literally screaming ‘Rock and Roll dude!’” I answered in a comical way.

He snorted.

I poured the glass the last contents of my fifth beer. “So, you in a band?” I asked out of curiosity.

“Yeah. Just some small gigs here and there.” Ryan answered with some sense of finality in it. “How about you? You’re a pianist right?”

I turned my head to his direction.  “Look who’s playing psychic now. How can you tell?” I smirked, throwing his own words back at him.

“You were obviously going for the piano when you stepped on the stage. Your hands even twitched when you were a step away from it.”

The fact that he was keeping a close watch on me, even noticing the smallest details in my actions, made me self-conscious all of a sudden. Why was he watching me?