Presley

"I told him."

"Told who what?" Gramma asks, confusion etched on her face.

I'm in the kitchen helping her cook dinner. It was seven-thirty when I came home from Deon's after beating him at F1. Twice. He even walked me to my house even though I told him that I could walk alone. He was such a gentleman today.

"I told Deon about Mom, Dad and Kiki."

She's quiet for a while before she says, "So, how did you feel about it?"

"Relieved, I guess," I tell truthfully.

"Well then, that's a good thing, right?"

"I don't know...I trust him even though he's still sort of a stranger to me, but I've no idea why. Also, I don't wanna like him, but I do."

"Presley, sweetheart, maybe you should just give in and have some fun, not too much fun though," Gramma suggests. "You've been through so much and you deserve to live a happy and memorable teenage life. Just loosen up, go out with your friends."

I walk over to the fridge and open it. "I want to, Gramma, but not just yet."

"Oh, sweetheart, you've been saying that for three years now," she states as I grab the milk carton and a few other necessities.

"I guess that's true." I sigh, shutting the fridge and walking back to the kitchen stove. "Maybe I'll have a girls' day out with Maddy soon."

"That's great!" Gramma hugs me and softly squeezes my shoulder. Grandpa walks into the kitchen and Gramma slowly lets me go. She smoothes her hands down the green apron she's wearing on top of her skirt and blouse unconsciously, and walks over to Grandpa's side. Grandpa puts an arm around her shoulder, smiles down at her and says, "We have some good news, Presley."

"Ooh what is it?" I ask, smiling. After all these years, they're still very much in love with each other and happy. I've seen it in the way they look at each other and treat each other, and I wish I would have that one day.

"We retired!" They both say at the same time, beaming at me, and it's contagious that I start grinning immediately too.

"You're joking," I say, not believing the words that just left their mouths.

"No, we're not," Gramma states, grinning back at me.

"This is so great, you two!" Taking the two strides I need to get to them, I hug them tightly.

"We decided we want to spend a lot more time with you and focus on your life. Talk with you about what you want to do in the future."

"You two didn't have to retire because of me. You've been focusing on me every day since Mom, Dad and Kiki died." I didn't realize that I had it in me to cry again so fast after I cried back at Deon's, but I start shedding a new batch of tears.

Happy ones, this time.

* * *

It's a little after eleven-thirty in the morning. Deon should be here any minute now. Oh God, what if he forgot that we are supposed to start practicing today? Or maybe he doesn't want to practice at my place.

Or maybe you're being paranoid, my subconscious whispers scornfully.

I've just arrived home after going to Good Friday mass half an hour ago. Gramma and Grandpa stayed back because they wanted to participate in the Novena service which is from twelve to three in the afternoon.

I showered and decided to wear my comfiest clothes; my flamingo pink bell-bottom pants and a white cotton T-shirt, and tied my hair up in a bun. Maddy always looks hot in whatever she wears, but I don't. All I can manage to look is cute, never hot or sexy. I'm standing in our living room waiting for Deon to show up. He said he'd be here by twelve, and now it's almost twelve, but he hasn't shown up yet. He said we could start practicing last Saturday, but then changed his mind again and said we should start today since it's a public holiday. Well, he's a procrastinator alright. A bigger one than me, I suppose.

I woke up a little earlier than usual today to clean the house before going to church. The wooden floor looks very clean as I swept and mopped. No books are lying around the living room like usual. No newspapers or mugs on the coffee table. No chocolate wrappers everywhere.

Suddenly the doorbell goes off and there's a soft knock on the front door. On instinct, I walk to the door and open it, to see a clean-shaven Deon with a guitar case slung over one shoulder. He's wearing a sky blue polo shirt with white shorts. His hair is tousled, making him look hotter than he already is. I would even say that he's the definition of hot.

"Hey," he says, grinning.

My gaze travels from his face to his amazing jawline to his Adam's apple before going lower. His shirt is fitted tightly to his body and I could almost see his pectoral muscles and abs flex through his shirt, or maybe I'm just imagining. My eyes go further down to his Crocs shoes and then back up when I see the hint of a bulge. I avert my eyes just as quickly as I see it and look away, embarrassed. Recovering fast, I gaze at his face to see his eyes moving up my body. They linger on my chest for a moment before slowly moving up to my face. I have the urge to cross my arms in front of me, but I repress it. It looks like he's been doing some ogling of his own while I was doing mine.

"So, are we gonna stand here all day or are you gonna invite me in?" Deon questions, smirking.

"Oh, god! I'm so sorry. Please come in." I step aside, embarrassed that I was just standing at the threshold checking him out. He probably noticed it too. Shit!

"I'm joking." He chuckles, walking inside.

Walking in beside him I offer, "Would you like something to eat or drink?"

"No, thank you...unless...Would you happen to have any muffins you've baked?"

"I baked some blueberry muffins yesterday. I think I might have a few left over."

I turn to leave but then swivel back around. "Do you like blueberry muffins?"

"Is that even a real question? Come on, who doesn't?"

"Okay. Um...I'll go get them." I point a thumb behind me, then gesture at the living room area. "Uh...make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back." Cursing myself under my breath, I hurry into the kitchen. What the ever loving eff is wrong with me? Why did I start tripping over my own words back there?

I grab the box of muffins from the kitchen island and stalk back into the living room where Deon is sitting on the settee, looking around.

"Who plays golf?" Deon points at the golf clubs.

"My grandfather. I play with him sometimes, but rarely. I'm not a fan of the sport."

"But why? Golf is great. And fun," he adds.

"No, it's not. It's really boring. At least I find it boring," I say. "Here you go." I hand him the box and he dives in, not wasting a second.

"So, um...where do you wanna practice? Here or upstairs in my room?"

"Your room." Ok...

Why did I even mention my room? Well, I knew I could be stupid sometimes, but I never knew I was this stupid. I should've told him to choose between the living room and the backyard or something. My room's a freaking mess.

Once Deon has finished eating three out of the five muffins in the box, he follows me upstairs to my room which is half the size of his, and drops his guitar on my bed before looking around. "Your room is really nice," he compliments. "You play badminton?"

I turn around to see that he's looking at the badminton rackets and the shuttlecocks in the left corner of my room. "I used to. Not anymore."

"Why's that?" He asks, absentmindedly.

"I used to play with my sister." I smile, remembering when she first taught me how to play, but my smile soon turns into a frown. "I—I haven't played ever since she..."

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking." He frowns and fiddles with his fingers awkwardly before running his hands through his hair. "Uh...I apologize for bringing it up," he adds, nervously.

"It's okay." I shove the memories aside, not wanting to cry in front of him again. "So um...what do you have in mind for auditions?"

"I was thinking we could create a small original piece together instead of just doing a cover like most others."

"Oh okay, that sounds good. That way, our performance will be unique. Have you thought of something already?"

"I wrote down a melody a couple days back." Deon reaches into the side pocket of his guitar case and pulls out a manuscript sheet. "Do you want to hear it?"

I nod, trying to hide my excitement.

He takes his guitar out and starts playing a riff that sounds like a mix of R&B and soul. It sounds a bit like something Tom Misch would play. Tom Misch is an amazing musician and producer in London. Most of his songs are jazz, contemporary soul, funk, electro and R&B. My favorite song of his is 'It Runs Through Me.'

Damn...Deon's amazing.

Listening to him play makes me forget how good Tom Misch is. His fingers move smoothly across the fretboard. He gets lost in the music with his head bent and eyes closed. I get so absorbed in it I don't realize when I move to sit down on the bed next to him.

The sweet riff turns into a strum and Deon starts humming along with it. Jesus! This definitely has to be what music in heaven sounds like. I close my eyes and let myself float.

"So, um...How was it?" When I open my eyes, speechless, Deon's looking at me expectantly with an amused smile. He chuckles, taking my silence for an answer. "Speechless? Even better."

"It's amazing." I sigh. "Where did you learn to play so well?"

"My dad taught me when I was eight, and I guess I just fell in love with the guitar. I've been drawn to it since I was very small."

"Oh." I open my mouth to say something else, but come up short.

"When did you start playing the sax?"

"I started when I enrolled at Westbeach High when I was fifteen. Mrs. Davis was the one who taught me. She's very sweet and kind. Apparently, she had known my mom when they were small."

"Oh, that's nice." Deon smiles.

"Yeah," I say.

Silence hangs in the air between us for a moment before he speaks again. "So, will you be able to write something that goes with this for the sax?" He holds up the manuscript paper.

"Yeah, I could think of something."

"Great. You can have this." He hands me the paper. "In case you want to refer to it. And let me know if you need any help with writing your part."

"Okay. Thanks." I smile.

"Also...I was wondering if you could help me with something," Deon says, ruffling his hair.

My brows furrow. "What is it?"

Deon takes a psych textbook out of the front pocket of his guitar case and holds it in front of him.

"Can you teach me how Sigmund Freud's psychoanalytic theory works?"

"Of course." I try to hide my smile, but end up giggling. "You're adorable sometimes."

"Don't call me adorable." Deon pouts, adorably, I might add, his forehead wrinkling. "It makes me feel emasculated."

"Oh my god." I burst out laughing. "Really? Being called adorable makes you feel emasculated?"

"You think that's funny, huh?" Suddenly Deon's hands are in front of me. When I realize what he's about to do, I grab onto them, pushing them away.

"Don't you dare." I'm a bit too late though. He releases himself from my hold and starts tickling me, making me squeal in laughter. I try to pry his hands away from my body, begging for him to stop, but he ignores me.

"Take it back."

"No!" I scream through fits of laughter, squirming. At that, he tickles me even harder.

"I won't stop until you take it back," he grins wickedly.

"Okay fine! I take it back!" I say between short puffs of breath when I can't take it anymore. "You're not adorable. You're cute." I squeal. "And sexy and hot."

Once I notice what I've just said, I freeze. At the same time, Deon stops tickling me.

"What was that?" Deon asks, grinning from ear to ear. "I don't think I heard you clearly."

"It was nothing." I blush, mortified. "I'm not saying it again. I only said it to make you stop."

"You sure?" Deon wiggles his eyebrows. "You don't really think I'm sexy and hot?"

"No, I don't. Now, shut up if you want me to teach you Freud's theory."

He chuckles, placing his textbook on my lap. His gaze switches between my eyes and my lips unconsciously the entire time I'm explaining the psychoanalytic theory to him and I pretend to not notice.

Once I'm finished, he thanks me more than a couple of times before leaving. When he's gone, I call Maddy and she picks up on the second ring.

"Hey, Elle. What's up?"

"Are you up for a girls' day out tomorrow?"

Her excitement is contagious when she yells into the phone, "Hell, yeah!"

Please vote, comment and don't forget to share. Thank you!❤️