Notorious

Reinvent

                  

Two months later

There is something about music that just makes you feel. The lyrics, the tempo, the soul, put into any piece has the power to move you into a depression, to pull you from even the deepest of shadows, to transport you to somewhere that isn't your life.

Music is the very pulse of life itself.

But, unfortunately, this music just... isn't.

By the time TJ messes up on the chorus for the third time I have to stop him before my ears begin to bleed.

"Unfortunately, bud, that's all the time we have today."

The boy's bony fingers pause on the D-chord and his deep cocoa eyes glance up at me with what can only be described as an insurmountable relief. I can't say I blame him –these twice weekly sessions are almost as painful for me as they are for him.

"Thank god." He mumbles under his breath and though I want to laugh, I take the guitar away from him with narrowed eyes.

"What, you don't like spending time with me?"

This time, he glances at me with a look that instantly reminds me of his father, "The only reason I come to these sessions is because of you, Ms. Russo.

And a flirt, just like his father.

Before I can scold him for flirting with someone twice his age a familiar knock on the door saves him. TJ practically runs towards the door, swinging it open without hesitation and revealing the tall, dark, and handsome man that is his father.

"Hey, bud, how was the lesson?"

"It was great. Can I get my phone back now?"

Jordan simply laughs at his persistent son and pulls his shiny black smartphone from his pocket, handing it to him with a sigh of resignation. Instantly, TJ is running towards the car with barely a wave backwards.

"Stop torturing the kid, Jordan. He doesn't like guitar and... he isn't very good at it."

"He needs some other substance besides his phone," Jordan smiles, pearly whites almost blinding me, before he takes my hand in his and brings it towards his lips, "Looking beautiful as always, Aspen. Whitstable has been quite good to you."

I simply roll my eyes, pulling my hand from his grasp, used to his flirtations.

Avery had given me his number as soon as I moved into her beach house, knowing I would need someone to talk to, and knowing that Jordan wanted someone to teach his son a talent besides texting.

Though, I'm beginning to suspect that Avery was just trying to set me up with him.

And even though I have officially spent two months in this little house by the sea... My heart is in London. Might always be in London.

"Why don't you let me take you out on a date?"

"No, I don't think so," I lean against the edge of my doorway, admiring the way the sun makes his dark skin glow bronze, "Maybe next week."

He shakes his head, amused smile on his lips, "You say that every time I ask."

"Then maybe you should stop asking?"

He laughs at my joking tone, but is quick to drop the subject. He always is. I haven't told him about my life in London, about Harry. But, I suspect Avery might have because he never brings it up, never pushes me too hard to give him a chance.

It's not that I don't want to... It's that I can't.

It's that every time I even think about it, any time 'yes' is on the tip of my tongue, I remember the chestnut curls and the emerald eyes and the terrible jokes and the 'no' just slips right out.