Page 90 of Bluebird

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“So, you ready to show me what you’ve got?” Luke asked, as he parked his truck in front of his house.

My face quickly went a shade of pink. “Pardon?” I gasped, not grasping what he was referring to.

“Mind out of the gutter, Blue.” Luke laughed, and raised an eyebrow. “Your music?”

“Oh…Oh!” I chuckled, nervously. “I’ll just go grab my material from home and come back over…are you sure this is okay?”

“Blue, I don’t agree to anything I’m not sure about,” he stated, and the corner of his mouth lifted.

I walked across the road to my parents’ house, glancing back a few times until Luke was inside. What was I doing? Yes, Luke was a mean guitar player and an awesome song writer, but he was also so much more. How was I going to manage being so close to him and not devastate our friendship?

* * *

I sat in front of Dawn’s piano and began warming up my fingers on the keys. After all these years, her piano still had such a beautiful sound. It was obvious Luke cared for it as much as she did.

I went through all the finger exercises Dawn drummed into to me every day as a child. I hated doing them then, but now they helped me relax, especially before a big show. The anxiety I felt as I prepared to play for Luke, was comparable to any of my sold-out stadium shows. I kept my fingers running up and down the keys to ease my nervousness.

Luke sauntered in with his guitar and fell back into the Chesterfield. He tuned his old Gibson as I played, and it felt so…familiar. With the exception of Nate’s birthday jam session, we hadn’t played together in almost ten years, but it was like no time had passed.

Thinking back to that night had me flushed again, and I fumbled over the keys. “I’m just going to get a glass of water,” I declared, nervously jumping from my stool. “Want one?”

Luke’s eyelashes fluttered at my erratic movement. “Sure,” he uttered slowly, eyeing me.

After successfully managing to compose myself in the kitchen, I returned to the music room. Luke set his guitar down and reached up for a glass, catching a glimpse of my shaky hand.

“It’s just me, Blue,” he assured. “We’ve done this before. There’s no need to be nervous.”

I nodded quietly and slid back onto the piano stool. I blew out all my nervous energy and confidently turned back to Luke. “So, I have written a few new songs, but they’re really rough. I was hoping—”

“Just play.”

I smiled in relief and settled my fingers on the keys.

I played and sung, and hoped to god Luke liked my first song. When I sang the last note, I apprehensively turned around to examine Luke’s face.

He wore a confused expression. “Um…sorry, what did you need me here for? Because you clearly don’t need my help.”

“Shut up.” I chortled at his review. “It needs work and you know it.”

Luke carefully placed his guitar down on the couch, and ambled over to the piano. “Shove over,” he demanded, and slid in beside me. My whole body lit up as his side touched mine, but he appeared immune to our closeness.

“Can you play me the bridge again?” he asked, focusing on my hands.

I played the bridge and he nodded. “Instead of going up here, try bringing it down an octave.”

So, I did. And wow. He was good. I picked up my pencil and made the adjustments to the sheet music.

I shook my head, dumbstruck by his untapped talent. “How are you not doing this for a living?”

He laughed warmly at my praise. “It just wasn’t meant to be I guess. Plus, I’d much prefer to watch you do it.” He turned to me with a gleam in his eye.

I quickly reverted my concentration back to the piano, but my cheeks and body were already on fire.

“I mean, you could get a ton of work in Nashville. I know heaps of singers who need someone with your talent.”

Luke shrugged, nonchalantly. “That’s a shame.”