If You Don't Know

Stayin' Alive (1)

If you haven't read the prologue to Look After You, you might be a bit confused in the middle of this chapter. I suggest you check it out, but it's not mandatory.

"Well you can tell by the way I use my walk,
I'm a woman's man, no time to talk"

-The Bee Gees, Stayin' Alive

There was nothing, nothing, that beat the feeling of being able to play drums. Just the feeling of being able to throw out a beat, keeping everything steady sometimes and fast and furious at others, was unbeatable. Nothing like the feeling of how the drumsticks would slide in my sweating hands, and how I'd have to grip them tighter to continue, feeling every inch of the wood under my fingertips as I easily slid them through my fingers.

Nothing beat it.

Unfortunately, not everyone knew the bliss of being a drummer. In turn, not everyone understood that a day of relaxing, in my opinion, was drumming.

Not everyone, meaning Claire.

I loved my girlfriend, I really did. She was probably the hottest girl I'd ever seen, she was nice, she was funny - her only flaw was that she didn't like the fact that I'd rather drum than cuddle on the couch. Actually, her only flaw was that she hated drumming, with a passion. A burning passion, like my passion for tacos when we stopped in Mexico. And quite honestly, my passion for tacos was unstoppable, so I could see how her trying to get my attention by huffing loudly every few seconds was her way of dealing with how much she hated it.

Unfortunately for me, and for Claire, I wasn't going to stop. She got to listen to my amazing skills, and I got to listen to her huffing. It was as fair as I was going to get.

When Claire huffed again, I bit back a huff of my own as I slowed, shifting on my stool. "You know, babe," I said, leaning my elbows against the drum kit. "Frowning gives you wrinkles."

She pouted, pursing her pink-glossed at me. "I hate those," she complained, motioning with a manicured hand towards my drums. I felt a flicker of annoyance, but pushed it away. After all, I knew Claire just wanted a bit of affection. "Why?" I asked, like I didn't already know. She pouted further, her widened eyes looking up from underneath her long, thick eyelashes. She had some of that black crap on her eyelashes, and I could barely see the blue of them underneath it.

"I hate drums," she whined. "They give me a headache. A bad one."

I bit back a smile at her tone. "Drums are my baby, baby," I said, standing up and setting my drumsticks on the set as I walked over. "You know it's all I do."

She stood, wrapping her arms around my waist and batting her eyelashes at me as she propped her chin against my chest. "But Lukey," she whined softly. "I'm not here for very long. Didn't you say it was about me?"

"I know," I said with a chuckle. "But Evan asked if I could just get a beat for Crazy for You going."

She pouted. "I hate them," she repeated.

"You're dating a drummer," I pointed out, leaning down to kiss her. She moved her head, eyebrows pulling together. "Why can't you just leave the drumming for onstage?"

I rolled my eyes, looking away so she didn't see. "Sorry," I said. "It's all about you."

She smiled, satisfied. "Where's Evey?"

"Evan's in the kitchen," I corrected her, knowing there was nothing that Evan hated more than that stupid nickname. We only used it when we were annoying him, no time else, except for Claire. I knew she thought it was cute, but Evan's dislike of her only grew everytime she used it. I didn't exactly see his problem with her, or Toby's, but I knew Shane thought she was only in it for the money. I knew better, Claire loved me.