Classic Rock Imagines

Eddie Van Halen; Guitar Lesson 🌸

Requested by ~ heyriojude (Star)

~ Star's POV ~

"Okay, bread...milk...cheese," I mumbled to myself as I walked into the grocery store, glancing at my grocery list.

My mom asked me to pick up some things for the house, and I gladly complied; anything that would get me out of the house and away from my seemingly crazy family was a relief to me.

I pulled my cart up to the cashier and started to unload my things onto the counter. He watched me carefully and I started to feel uncomfortable with his eyes constantly watching over me.

"How are you?" He asked in a seemingly flirtatious tone.

"I'm okay, you?" I asked after he started to punch the food items into the register.

"Better if you'd give me your number," he said, winking at me slightly and a nervous smile cracked along my cheeks.

"I don't think so," I said uncomfortably. He wasn't my type, at all. And I wasn't talking about the way that he looks. I'm not into guys that make me feel uncomfortable, and he certainly was fitting nicely into that description.

"Fine," he said, his eyes darting back to the register. "Twelve ninety-nine," he mumbled before I handed over a wad of bills to him.

I walked off with my brown bag of groceries in one hand and change jiggling in my pocket. As I pushed through the first set of double doors, a bright yellow flyer caught my eye. I stepped over to get a closer look at what it said: Guitar lessons, ten dollars a session, call Eddie: 555-876-0982.

I ripped one of the phone numbers off from the bottom of the flyer and headed back out the doors. I always wanted to play guitar, and there's never been any real signs that I should start trying. Perhaps this was the one that I've been waiting for.

After the short walk back home, I sighed before opening the door to see my parents already arguing about something else. I tried to tune them out as I moved over to the kitchen, unpacking the contents of the brown bag and putting the food items away.

"That took you awhile," my older brother, Evan, said after he strut into the kitchen.

"I wasn't exactly in a rush to get back," I said, gently closing the fridge door and nudging my head to the other room where our parents were screaming at each other like madmen.

"What's that?" Evan asked, reaching to grab the tiny piece of yellow paper that I laid down on the counter with the rest of the cash that my mom had given me for groceries.

"Oh that's nothing," I said, not wanting to admit that I was interested in taking guitar lessons. Evan was in a band of his own, he played drums and he was damn good at them too. I knew if I told him that I wanted to play guitar that he'd ask his guitarist to help me, but that's the last thing I wanted. That guitarist was no different than the cashier from the grocery store, nothing but a creep in my eyes.

"What did some guy give you his number?" He asked, smiling down at the handwritten phone number written on the paper.

"No," I spat, reaching over his shoulder and snatching the little bit of paper out of his hand. "I just...was maybe going to take guitar lessons, probably not, though."

"Sammy could always teach you," Evan said, cracking a smile. "He's always liked you."

"I'd never be alone in a room with Sammy," I said, shaking my head as I looked down at the numbers on the yellow paper. I hated that he was the main reason that I had waited so long to pursue this interest of mine.