Blythe

one.

                                                                                One. 

First of all, I'm not a bad guy. I'm simply a guy who knows what he wants and knows how to get it. It's not my fault that the one thing I'm absolutely extraordinary at doing is getting the girls that I want. Not to say that girls are things but...well, you get it.

It's a gift and a curse, I guess. Since the beginning of time, girls have obsessed over the strong, dark and handsome musician types. That much has nothing to do with me. So I was born with the talent of playing the piano like a Greek God and my singing voice is beautiful enough to cause girls to get lady boners. It's not my fault I have good genes.

Anyway, as I said, I'm not a bad guy. Others, however, may think otherwise. Yes, I've had a lot of girls--and I mean a lot of girls. And yes, some of those girls happened to be a bit younger than me. But that doesn’t make me a bad guy...maybe a bit of a man whore, yes, but not a bad guy. If anything, it's the girls' fault for falling for me. Girls are ridiculously easy. Write them a song and sing to them and they are yours. I guess that's why, when Blythe came around, I was surprised at the difficulty level of this conquest. Because that’s all girls are, really. Conquests. Call me sexist. Call me an awful person. But from my experience, it’s true. At least it was, before her.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have to start from the very beginning. Like before Blythe came into my life and basically screwed it up. I was fine with who I was. Dating girls and dumping them after they gave me what I wanted...if you know what I mean. But leave it to some girl to screw up my senior year. She made me realize that there was something seriously wrong with my way of thinking. It's up to you to decide if I was too late or not. 

“You’ve played that song at least five hundred times, Bro, and it’s sounded good every single time. Please, for the sake of my sanity, cut it out.” Jesse Lincoln, my best friend, moaned as he clicked through TV channels, totally uninterested. I was sitting at my keyboard, feeling the need to repeatedly slam my head against it. 

“It’s missing something, Jess. I just,” I moaned before slamming my head down on the keys. A very disgusting sound oozed from the speakers of the keyboard. Wincing, I lifted my head from the instrument and spun around. “I don’t know what it is.”

“Just play Toni what you have already. She won’t care. She’ll like it either way.” Jesse stopped on the food channel briefly before beginning to flip through the channels again.

“Jess, this song isn’t for Toni.” I grabbed a bouncy ball off of my desk and threw it against the wall, catching it swiftly. “This work of art,” I gestured to my sheet music despite the fact that Jesse couldn’t see me. “Is for my audition for Wellingtons. It needs to be perfect and it’s just,” I chucked the ball at the wall again. “It’s just not.”  

“Oh, don’t worry. You’ll come up with some sort of masterpiece for it soon enough.”

“What I need is inspiration.” I cried, jumping over the back of the couch and sitting down next to him.

“Toni?” Jess suggested, looking over at me. I scoffed. “Or not.”

“Toni is nothing but a child. I think I’m done dating freshmen.” Jesse chuckled. “What? I am. They’re not willing to, you know, do anything. They’re too inexperienced. Unless you get the slutty ones but even that’s not worth it. And most of the slutty ones have rich dads in high places. I don’t need death threats.”