FicWad

Jess

It had been an eternity before the remote control of power entered my grasp and I exhumed my power by /changing the channel/. Lucille shrieked like the damsel in some horribly written 80s movie as I pressed my fingers on the small purple arrow and laughed maniacally in my mind.

Brief moments of immense boredom shot through me as I spent no time flipping through Lifetime, food network, and the weather channel before hitting the channel the might as well be named after me for how much I watch it: a 24/7 music video channel. Ahh...heaven.

"Semi-Charmed Life" by Third Eye Blind drummed onto the scene and I excused myself to the kitchen so I could dance in peace. Trying to remain silent, I busted out the best moves a little Chicago white girl like myself could muster. Feeling like I was seriously finding my mojo, I opened my eyes only to see Pete standing in the doorway, trying not to laugh himself to the point of decapitation.

Faking a stretch, I couldn't take it and cracked up, trying only to picture the moves I was literally busting. He smiled adorably with his arms folded.

The song ended and I sobered up a bit.

"More coffee?"

He continued to laugh at me as I began to make fun of myself.

I feel you creepin'. I can see it from my shadow...

"Uh-oh, Pete, the dancing bug's gonna get me again."

As "Smack That" by Akon droned on, I ridiculously did my best to 'dance' without laughing.

"Pete, call a doctor! It's got me! I can't stop! Ahhh!"

Much to my delight, once "But It's Better If You Do" came on, the Wacky Wentz found his groove and started to mildly dance with me in the kitchen of a room in a hotel who's name I couldn't remember.

The expression on his face was one I'll never forget. He was wearing the smile best known for reattaching arteries to their respective veins. He was good-looking enough to break hearts but his smile was capable of taping them right up again.

"Dude..."

I saw the beer before I stopped. The beer, the hand, the face and then the JewFro. Joe stood in the doorway, incredulous, blinking and with an expression worthy of a MasterCard commercial.

Pete sorta missed the director's cue and bumped into me. Smoothly, I leaned my elbow against the wall of the kitchen and swept away any trace of a smile,

"Hey, Joe...sup?"

Joe shook his head from side to side in such away his luscious curls bounced from side to side as he poked around in the fridge.

"Guys, I don't even want to know. Go back to your weird little cult thing."

Scratching his head, he shuffled back to the door and slammed it.

Pete and I stared at each other and cracked up into fits of laughter.

(******)

"Knock, knock."

I rapped my knuckles on the door of the only person who hadn't heard of the little 'incident' this morning and Patrick dropped the comic book he was reading in a sort of knee jerk reaction.

"Hey, Jess."

"Hey, Patrick. Wacha up to?"

"Nothin', just listening to some music. Here, I'll turn it off."

He almost ran over to the boom box I just realized was playing vicious heavy metal at a volume just above the preaching of a 'church mouse'.

"No, no, no. I'm not like 47, I can handle heavy metal."

Patrick scrunched his face up and cocked his head. How cute.

"You...like heavy metal?"

"Hey, I can listen to anything."

Nodding and smiling, he made his way back over to me as I sat on the bed with crossed legs and sat next to me in a similar fashion.

"So, I heard you and Pete were dancing this morning."

"Dammit! I can't believe it. You were the only person who didn't know!"

"Haha, is that the only reason you came in here?"

"Yeah..."

"Oh, I feel so unloved."

"Well, I also came in because you're undeniably cute."

He threw his arms up in an overexcited, extremely happy manner.

"Yay!"

I giggled and clapped lamely.

"Hey, Jess, I came up with some new music. Mind previewing?"

"Weeeeell, I dunno, Patrick. I'm reaaaaaally busy and I have to go...but what the heck."

Smiling, he jumped off the bed and ran over to his acoustic guitar and brought it back with the cavalier nature parents scold in their children when handling an expensive thing.

"All right, no one's ever heard this. I wrote I last night after we got back from the mall and no one, not even Pete's heard this."

"Yay! I feel so special. Give it to me, baby."

Smiling, he pressed his fingers down on the fret board and brought the strings to life like I'd never seen a human being do before.

The music was a sweet sort of beautiful melody that you'd imagine Patrick would specialize in and the words were a bit on the unpredictable side of the line. I could tell he wrote them all by his adorable self.

The voice and the fingers stopped and a small blush crept under the blonde straws of his bangs.

"I-It's not very good. Sorry..."

"No! That was amazing...I'm speechless."

"You think so?"

"Damn, Patrick. You're just incredible."

"It wasn't that good."

"Yeah, it was."

"Can you play anything, Jess?"

"Well, I-I took a guitar class all through high school, but-"

"Oh, are you kidding me? Show me, show me your skills."

He thrust the guitar into my hands and the pick into my other and I was left breathless. I hadn't played guitar for years...ever since I found a camera.

Taking a few test strums, I met his eyes and broke into embarrassed laughter.

I tried my best to remember the chords and failed miserably,

"Which one are you trying to do?"

"Uhh, G?"

"Here, put your index here, instead. Yeah, there you go."

Blushing furiously, I tried to play a song I loved in school and semi-made it through.

Feeling stupid, I looked up at him defeated and stared at his stormy gray eyes that held a strange sheen I'd never seen before.

"That was really good, Jess."

"Yeah, if you mean 'good' as in 'pathetic'."

"No, no, no. You are good, if you had some practice you'd be great."

"Yeah, if you mean 'great' as in 'pathetic'."

"Jess, listen to me,"

he scooted closer to me and put his hands on my knees, leaning inwards with his torso,

"I'm serious. If you'd practice, you'd be amazing."

"Patrick..."

"And who knows, you could even be in a band."

"Oh, come on..."

"Trust me on this!"

"What? Are you saying I should drop my entire career of photography because I was barely able to make it through a song I wrote in high school?"

"Jess..."

"One song!"

"Didn't you ever want to be a rock star?"

"Of course I did, who didn't?"

"Well, what happened to that dream?"

"Reality happened to hit me in the face with a cold, wet towel."

"Me and the guys made it."

"Yeah, and you guys are the four in four million who did."

"You gotta have dreams. Are you gonna be a photographer for the rest of your life?"

"Y-"

The rest of my life? I-I'd never thought of that. Did I really want to be a photographer for the rest of my life? But I was 23...it was too late for me to...too late? I sound like I'm old. 23's not too late. What the hell am I talking about? Of course I'm gonna be a photographer for the rest of my life. Am I?

"Y-yeah, I am."

"I don't believe that."

"And why not?"

"I dunno. But answer me one thing, did you enjoy guitar?"

Of course I did, it was my favorite thing in the world in high school. I was even in a band with Laurel, Johanna and Ariel. We never made it anywhere but that was one of the best...

"Yeah...I did."

"Then, you should practice."

"Patrick..."

"Just practice. Promise me you'll practice. I'll even help you."

"Fine, I'll practice but only for you. You know I can't say no to you."

Temporarily, the smile faded from his face and took the color with it. Clearing his throat, he stood to change the cd. Damn, that boy was cuter than any prize you'd find at a state fair and he didn't even know it.


(*******)