Three Days Of Hemmings// l.h.

The guitar sessions

As soon as I got home, I bathed and ate food. I threw my bag pack on my bed, almost forgetting that it now belonged to Luke.

I heard the sound of strings and someone singing the song Good Girls Gone Bad. I rushed to see Luke playing my guitar. He played it so perfectly. He sat on the couch, wearing a red tee and faded blue jeans.

"Wow." I said.
"Thanks" He muttered.
"You play really well."
"Hello? This is my business. Music is my life."
I laughed. Yeah of course. He was Luke Hemmings.
"Where did you get my guitar from?" I asked.
"Your dad and I were talking. He mentioned about a guitar. When it comes to music, I cannot resist. So here I am playing your guitar."
"You love music, don't you?" I asked.
"Oh yes. A lot." He said. He began playing a melody which I realised was Wild World by Cat Stevens.
I gasped. He played and sang beautifully.
"...oh baby baby it's a wild world..."
I looked at him for a few moments. He suddenly stopped playing and looked at me.
I looked away instantly. "Sorry to disturb." I said.
He shook his head. "Oh no problem. You didn't disturb me anyways."
"So why did you stop playing?" I asked.
He grinned. "Don't you wanna know what else your dad told me about you?"
"You and dad seem to talk a lot." I said.
He laughed. "He's sweet."
Mom entered with some tea for Luke.
He shook his head. "No coffee?"
Mom shook her head. "Indians drink tea. British too. You too."
"I'm Australian." He moaned.
"At least try it." I said. "Mom has made it for you so kindly."
He looked at me. Then he sipped the tea.
His face brightened. He nodded his head, indicating it was good. I smiled.

Mom walked away. He kept the tea aside.
"Your dad said that you just buy everything and then forget about it. You threw a huge tantrum to buy the guitar and now you just don't play it."

I blushed. "But I don't know how to play it."
"I can teach you."
My eyes widened in disbelief.
"Seriously. Come here. Sit beside me." He made space for me beside him and patted the couch.
I sat beside him nervously.
He touched some strings and then fluttered them and said, "This" then he played the chord, "is the C chord."
He said a bunch of more stuff about chords that went straight over my head. Even he knew that pretty well. We spent an hour wasting time like that.
At last I got exhausted.

And then I remembered.
"Get ready. We gotta go."
"Where?"He asked.
"Dilli Haat." I said.