Band On The Run

Son Of A Gun

“It sounds like a dance song,” I told him with a smile, shaking my head.

Placing his guitar on the couch beside him, Nick grinned up at me before standing up. “That’s the point,” he assured me, grabbing me by both hands and dragging my body towards his.

Giving a loud laugh, I allowed him to tug me to him, and wrapped my arms around his waist easily as he began to sway slightly. There was no music, but that was alright as he slipped his hands into the back pockets of my jeans. Relaxing against him, my body went almost limp as I rested my cheek against his.

After a long moment, Nick spoke up, “Well, I think it might be the point.”

Chuckling, I pressed my lips against his clean shaven cheek and pulled away so I could meet his eyes. “What do you want the song to be?”

He shrugged, his light blue eyes crinkling slightly in thought. “I’m not quite sure.”

Letting my thoughts linger back to the song he’d played for me, I moved forward and dug my fingers into his hair before pressing my lips to his. The response was immediate, he put his hands on my waist and dragged me closer and that warm feeling in the pit of my stomach grew substantially.

It was I that pulled away, and I sent him a cheeky grin before pulling away and heading away from his sitting room and into the kitchen.

Opening the fridge, I instantly began to search through for something to drink. There wasn’t much selection except water, milk and orange juice, but I knew where there was more, so I closed the fridge and opened the cupboard right beside it. Nick wasn’t much of a beer drinker, but the taste had grown on me over the years and he always kept a pack in the cupboard for me.

The warm beer always reminded me of England. I did love England, the times I’d gone there had been full of warm beer, laughter and music. Kind of like this one. And to be honest, I was liking it… I liked it a lot.

“There’s nothing wrong with a dance song,” I called out to where he was still in the living room, popping the lid into the trash and taking a sip of the yeasty drink, heading back in his direction. When he came into sight, I found Nick sitting on the armchair, his guitar back in his hands. As if to prove my point, I began to sing as I danced into the room. “Swing swing up and down. Turn turn turn around. Round round round and about and over again. Gun gun son of a gun. You are the only one. And no one else can take my place.”

Sliding in beside him in the armchair, I took another sip of the drink as our sides were pressed together in the small space. “Nirvana did a cover of that Vaselines song,” I informed him, “They put it on Insecticide.”

“Who are The Vaselines?” questioned he, looking up from the guitar.

Rolling my eyes, I tipped my head up to look at the ceiling. “They’re from Scotland, and they’re awesome,” I answered simply.

Nick gave a laugh at my pointed reply, placing a hand high up on my inner thigh in order to gain my attention and causing me to look down to him. “You’re acting really happy,” he told me, a hesitant smile on his mouth, “Why? Not that I don’t like it and that you don’t act happy most of the time, but sometimes…”

For a moment I stared at him, a frown puckering between my brows, yet then I turned my gaze away and took a long gulp of the beer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied before meeting his eyes again.

The smile on his face was no longer hesitant as he asked, “You staying over tonight?”

Feeling more relaxed that the conversation had turned away from the dangerous subject; I gripped the guitar, placing it carefully on the ground before shifting our positions. “Most definitely,” I said.