The Devil's Tattoo (13 page)

This whole stay away from Will thing wasn't going according to
plan. Not when he kept sneaking up behind me and stealing my breath.

After dinner, the boys wanted to go out and sample some of
Sydney's alternative rock and
goth
clubs. I couldn't think of anything worse than being in a crowded room with
loud music and copious amounts of
drunk
people without
the safety of a stage. I excused myself and went straight back to the hotel.
Sleep sounded like a good idea to me. And there was that song that had been
rolling around in my brain for far too long. That had to go down
on paper before it rolled right out.

Before I went upstairs, I slipped into the hotel bar
and ordered myself a cocktail. It had been so long since I'd drunk
one, it reminded me of Ted's Shed and their cheap sugar laden
versions back in Melbourne. I had my phone out on the bar writing down some
lyrics, relishing the peace and quiet when I felt someone approaching me. I
didn't look up, hoping that they were just going to order a drink. If I didn't
look, then there would be no conversation. Right now, I was content with my
bright red drink and notebook app.

"Hey."

I didn't have to look up to know it was Will.
Remembering earlier that evening, I blushed a little. I was kind
of surprised to see him here, actually. Wouldn't he be
out with everyone
else chasing girls
? Wasn't that his
MO?

"Why are you here on your own?" he asked, sitting down.

"I didn't feel like going out," I said looking over at
him. He was wearing a black
v-neck
t-shirt, a light
dusting of blonde hair peeking out the top and I noticed the edge of another
tattoo.

"Ah," he nodded knowingly. "Seems like everyone had
the same idea."

"Why aren't you with them?" I asked, putting my
phone back in my pocket.

"Didn't feel like it."

We sat there awkwardly for a moment. I had to give him points for
trying. He didn't seem that easily put off. I thought about what Dee had said
that morning, about giving Will a chance. Maybe I should, but I didn't know
what to say to him. There was more to these things than physical attraction. I
wanted more.

"What kind of music do you like?" he asked suddenly as
if he'd just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"That's a hard one," I said, thankful he'd said
something
.

"Why?"

"There's so much."

"Can I look at your iPod, then?" he asked with a
raised eyebrow. "You always seem to have it in your pocket."

Surprised again, I pulled it out and handed it to him.
"Go for it." I watched as he scrolled through it and melted
a little when he smiled at some of the things he came across.

"The Clash?" he asked.

"I love Combat Rock."

"Straight to Hell is my 
favourite
 song."

"Mine, too," I said carefully, narrowing my eyes.

"What?" he laughed.

"Nothing."

He looked back at my iPod. "You have some great stuff.
Editors, White Lies. Love them. Friendly Fires?"

"I like their last album. Pala." It's a light and
dancey
electro record and it doesn't fit my image at
all. "I'm
kinda
bummed that White Lies haven't
come to Australia yet. I'd really like to see them play."

"Aren't they like on their third album?"

"New one is coming out soon."

He handed back my iPod and his hand lingered against
mine for a moment too long. He shifted uncomfortably and I frowned. It looked
like he was struggling with something and
Will
came
across as the kind of guy who never struggled at all.

"I'm sorry," he said after a minute of awkward silence.

"You've said."

"I haven't been myself lately." He didn't look up at me
and for a moment, I thought he might have been embarrassed. "I've
done some stupid things and I've made you uncomfortable."

When I didn't reply, he looked up and I shrugged.

"I
wanna
be friends with you,"
he said. "Have I stuffed that up?"

When he said the word friend, I tried not to visibly cringe. This
was Simone's issue, wasn't it? Being stuck firmly in the friend zone. They had
feelings for each other, but still couldn't seem to act on them.

"I've got this song in my head," I said, trying to be
nice about ditching him. "I want to go write it out before I forget
it."

Before I could say,
see you later
, Will's eyes light up.
"Can I help? I mean
,
I'd like to see you
play."

"Why?"

"Why?" he scoffed. "Because you're brilliant."

"You're only saying that to be nice," I declared,
downing the remainder of my drink.

"I watch you every night," he said carefully, like he
was afraid of scaring me away. "You're brilliant."

With a sigh, I slid off the barstool and took a few steps
backwards. Give him a chance. I hoped Dee was right about him. Will stared at
me, unsure. "Well, are you coming or not? Hurry up before I change my
mind."

We're silent all the way upstairs, until I unlock the door to the
room and flick on the light.

"Wow," Will said. "Who's the messy one?"

"Dee," I replied with a small groan.

"Thought as much."

In the corner, Dee had a beat up acoustic guitar he'd left in our
room. It's coved in various tattoo art stickers. I mean, it's trashed, but it
has an amazing tone because of it. Occasionally we'd try and write something,
but so far we'd done pretty much nothing but goof around.

On the bed, I'd left my notebook, a pencil sticking out of its
tattered pages. It was the same one Dee had given me at our first rehearsal and
the first thing I had written in it was the lyrics to
Walls
. Now, it's
dog eared and tired, the pages full of scribbles and marks.

"What are you working on?" he asked, sitting on my bed,
cross legged
, tapping on the cover.

"It's an acoustic song," I said, perching on the
opposite edge. "I don't know about the words yet, but I've been trying to
get down the chords."

"Play it for me."

I suddenly felt shy about playing in front of him, which was
totally stupid. I'd played on stage a billion times by now and even in the
street busking with Dee, but somehow, playing in front of Will was different.
It wasn't just playing
,
it was something
else
. I cared about what he thought and it scared the hell out of me.

I sighed, running my fingers over the strings and thankfully it
was in tune. The way I was sitting, I could angle my face away from him, but I
was still overly aware of his eyes on me. Trying to shut him out, I focused on
the melody in my head and began to play it how I thought it might go. When I
got to the bridge, it sounded off.

"See," I said, my guard dropping. "I can't get that
bit."

When I was greeted with silence, my stomach dropped and I looked
up expecting to see anything but the look that was plastered on his face.

"That's… wow."

"Shit, huh?" I grimaced.

"No," he back peddled. "I didn't mean it like that.
I meant it was beautiful. Soulful."

My face reddened and I looked down and noticed he had opened my
notebook up and had written out the music as I had played. I got madder than a
bee in a jar when Dee wrote things in there. I had personal stuff written in
those pages, stuff that I'd tried to work out into songs, but seeing the marks
Will has made… He could write in it all he wanted.

"Here," he held out his hand for the guitar. "I
have an idea, if that's okay?"

With a small nod, I pulled the strap over my head and he took it,
nestling the guitar on his knees. "When you get to the bridge, it's
natural to want to go the way you did. I would have." He played it again
and it sounded weird coming from his hands. He hit the offending chord and I
could see what he meant. "But," he continued, looking up at me,
"maybe you should try something like this." He played it again, but
this time chose a difficult chord, one that I wouldn't have even considered and
to my surprise it worked. Better than worked. It was genius.

A smile tugged at my lips and I looked up into his smiling face.
"Write it down."

"Have you thought about lyrics?" he asked, picking up
the pencil, obviously pleased with my reaction.

"No, not yet. I have a few ideas, though."

We sat there, talking through the song and working out another
guitar part for what seemed like five minutes. I don't know when I'd let my
guard down, but suddenly, I felt comfortable around him. Whatever anger I had
towards him had just melted away into nothing. I may have started to let go a
little, but I was still very aware of everything he did. The way he wrote, the
way he played the guitar,
the
way he sat on my bed.
Every time I looked up, he was smiling at me, his stormy grey eyes sparkling
and I wondered if this was what it was like. Being happy with someone.

"Shit," he said suddenly, looking at the alarm clock on
the beside
table. "It's two am."

"What?" I sat up, rubbing my eyes. We'd been mucking
around with this song for almost three hours.

"I better go in a minute."

"Sure."

We fell silent for a minute as I put the guitar down on the floor.
It hadn't taken much for us to fall back into an awkward silence.

Will was the one who finally spoke and it wasn't something that I
was expecting. "Did you really mean what you said in the interview
today?"

I eyed him, wary of his intentions. "I mean everything I say
in interviews."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Good," he said with a wink.

Damn it he was so hot when he did that. I was suddenly very aware
that we were alone and sitting on a bed together and I tried my hardest not to
look at his lips, but that's exactly what I did. Annoyed, I glanced down at the
notebook.

Will let out a low laugh and slid off the bed. "I better get
going, anyway. It's late."

"Sure," I tried not to sound disappointed as I stepped
over the guitar and walked him to the door, so I could lock it behind him.

Opening it, he said, "See you tomorrow." At the last
second, he turned back like he wanted to say something else, but grimaced and
walked out into the hall, closing the door softly behind him.

I stared after him, not sure what had just happened. Who the hell
was that guy I'd just written music with? That was not the Will Strickland I
had come to know. This guy was kind and genuinely interested. This guy warmed
my heart and all the other places I was too embarrassed to think about. I
couldn't help but wonder which one the real Will Strickland was and I hoped it
was the latter.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

Will

I let the door close behind me softly.

What did I want to say? I don't know. Thinking about her reaction
to her own song, it made me wonder if she understood how talented she really
was. I mean, if she hadn't been writing that long, then that was even more
special. That was the kind of song even I would have trouble writing and that's
if I could've have thought it up in the first place.
Which I
probably couldn't.
Music made her
come
alive in
the same way it made me. That we had in common.

I wandered down the hall to my own room and thought about all the
reasons I should go back and all the reasons I shouldn't. I got the feeling
that she was attracted to me, at least a little. I thought I'd put her on edge
because she didn't like me in the slightest. Now I was beginning to think that
it might be because she was shy or just unsure about it. If I went back there
now, all I might do is scare her away.

Seeing her with the guys out the front earlier, seeing her alone
in the bar, seeing her just then writing that song… If that's what spending
time with Zoe was like, then I wanted that every single day.

"Where've you been?" Louie asked when I walked into our
room. I'd finally driven Pete mad with my moody
behaviour
and he'd swapped.

"How long have you been back?" I asked, dodging his
question.

"Not long.
Kinda
over it. It isn't any fun without
Stace
."
Stace
was his girlfriend, but before I could ask after her,
he gave me a look. "Spill it, man."

"I was with Zoe." No use making something up.

"Really?" He seemed surprised.

"Yeah," I shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

"And?"

"And what?" I flung myself on my bed.

"Did she smack you one?" he laughed.

"No, we got on fine."

"What did you do?"

"What do you mean, what did we do? We hung out. Wrote some
music."

"You wrote music with her?" he exclaimed. "Mate,
you're in."

"By the skin of my teeth." And I knew the only reason I
was in, was because Dee had said something to her, but I didn't tell Louie
that. Right now, I didn't want to talk about it, I wanted to go to sleep and
dream about it.