Page 44 of Playing With My Heart Strings

dusty

Bluebird

It’s become obvious the producers are trying to push me toward Valerie or Katherine as my final pick, based on the nature of our dates. My solo with Valerie last night was a private dinner and firework show, and Katherine’s was a couple’s spa day.

I’m not sure why Baylor isn’t higher on their list. I feel like I have the most romantic chemistry with her, but I’ve begun to catch onto the producers’ reactions when I give them updates on how I’m feeling and who I’m liking the most. There’s always a subtle exchange of concerned—or maybe confused—glances from the crew.

The thing is, no one ever asks questions, they just make faces then go on about their day.

It throws me off my game a little bit each time, but I don’t have the guts to ask them why they react the way they do.

Today’s date is going to be special, though. The producers wanted to film it yesterday, but I convinced them to move it to today. I might regret it tomorrow when we’re all on a plane headed to Atlanta for the next live concert, but that’s a bridge I’ll cross when I get there.

The car pulls up to the hotel where the girls are staying, and I hop out of the backseat just as Baylor walks out the front doors.

“Careful, you’ll catch flies with your mouth open like that,” she teases.

“Can’t help it when you look like that.”

She’s got on a navy-blue dress that falls mid-thigh with loose, puffy sleeves, a plunging neckline, and straps that tie into a bow on the back.

Her hair’s straight today, and I get a whiff of her perfume: cashmere and vanilla.

I take another moment to appreciate her, but when she reaches for the car door handle, I snap out of it.

“No, ma’am.” I wave a finger at her before opening the door. I grab the top of the door, holding it for her as she slides onto the leather seats. “Good to go?” I ask, waiting for her nod before shutting the door and walking around the back of the car to get on my side.

“You look nice today,” Baylor says once I’ve buckled myself in. I do look nice, wearing what I typically wear—a pearl snap shirt with the sleeves rolled to my elbows, jeans, and a cowboy hat—but not as nice as she does.

“Nothing compared to you, sweetheart.” When I reach over to place my hand on her knee, brushing my thumb over her soft skin, Baylor looks away. But not before I catch a glimpse of her pink-stained cheeks. I love that I affect her as much as she affects me.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere special. Don’t worry, I know you’re going to love it.” I slide my hand off her leg and grab her hand, entwining our fingers.

About thirty minutes later, the car pulls up to the Bluebird Cafe.

“I’ve always wanted to go here,” Baylor murmurs softly.

“You’ve never been?”

She shakes her head. “That probably sounds crazy, considering I’ve lived here for years, but I’ve never gotten around to it. I’m glad my first time will be with you, though.” Her face immediately reddens, like what she said made her feel awkward.

“Honored to take your Bluebird Cafe virginity.” My teasing probably doesn’t help any, but I can’t resist.

Baylor just shakes her head, playfully rolling her eyes with a subtle smile on her face.

“Come on, let’s go inside.” I race around the car to open the door before she can and offer her my hand.

I help her out of the car, then instead of dropping her hand, I interlock our fingers.

When she looks at me this time, there’s no confusion in her expression, just what looks like pure contentment.

There isn’t a huge crowd yet when we walk through the doors. Enough people that only one table is available, but not so many that the building is packed and there’s no place to stand. We snag the last high-top table just as the host steps onto the small stage.

“Good evening, everyone! If you’ve never been here, welcome, and if this isn’t your first time, welcome back. We’ve got a full lineup of singers for open-mic night.”

Leaning in toward Baylor, I whisper in her ear. “I signed you up, darlin’. Better think of which song you’re going to perform, because it’s all original content.” Maybe it was wrong to put her on the spot, but I know she writes and I have no doubts that she’s talented.

She whips her head toward me. “You did what ?”

I shrug. “I signed you up.”

Her eyes blink rapidly as she aggressively shakes her head, like she’s trying to wake herself up from a dream.

“I-I don’t have anything prepared. I—” I can tell she’s panicking, but I’ve seen the journal she carries around.

She’s ready for this, ready to be a singer and songwriter.

She just needs a little push. That’s where I come in.

“Hey, relax. It’s okay. You’re going to be great. Play the song you know best.”

“I don’t know if I have it in me.”

“You do, Baylor. I wouldn’t have asked you on this date if I didn’t believe in you and your abilities. Now you have to trust yourself.”

During the first few singers’ performances, I catch Baylor shaking her leg and continuously stirring her drink.

“You don’t have to go up there if you don’t want to, but I think—no, I know you’re going to be incredible, and everyone else is going to think so, too.”

“I just don’t know if I can measure up to some of these songwriters. I mean, that last girl was amazing. Her lyrics were so poetic.” Her gaze softens as her eyes shift to the right then down to her feet.

“Next up, we have Baylor!” the host interrupts.

I give Baylor an encouraging nod, and she hops down from her stool, gingerly walking to the stage. She grabs the guitar already there for performers to borrow if needed, pulls the stool away from the mic stand, and sits.

“H-hi, everyone. My name’s Baylor.” Her voice shakes slightly, but she clears her throat and slowly starts to strum chords as she looks around the crowd.

I can’t read her expression, but it looks like nerves. Whatever it is, though, melts away when she begins the first verse.

Like a rose that’s never seen the light, they blinded your heart to make you feel like you’re less than you are.

The words they say behind closed doors make you feel so small.

The entire café is silent, no one daring to make a sound as her voice fills the room. There’s a slight crackle to it, like the words bring up deep emotion.

Always thinking that you must compete with the people next to you.

Boys be careful, did no one tell you the nice guys always lose?

Succeed and you’re too conceited but fail and they think you’re weak.

Every time you make a mistake, they’re always there to critique.

But you’re worth so much more than the things that they say… You don’t need to prove that you are.

She strums the last chord, and the audience erupts, going as far as to give her a standing ovation.

I stand with the crowd, whistling as I clap.

She doesn’t need my approval, because she’s got it from every single person here.

Pink streaks stain her cheeks as she looks around at everyone applauding for her, flashing a radiant smile.

But when her eyes lock on mine, it’s like the entire world around us disappears and we’re the only ones here.

After my solo date with Baylor, I asked the remaining three women to join us on Broadway.

There haven’t been many group outings, not since the early weeks of the show.

But now we’re down to the final four and tensions are rising.

It feels like a good opportunity to have fun, let loose, but also see how my friendship with everyone can grow.

Baylor and I are sitting in a booth along the wall at Tin Roof. There’s still time before the rest of the women arrive, so I place my hand on Baylor’s thigh.

“What’s up?” She looks down at my hand, which is resting just underneath the hem of her dress, and then back up at me.

“You look sexy as hell, you know that?” I pull at my lips with my teeth to wet them before leaning in to kiss her.

She leans into the kiss then deepens it, hungrily fighting for more. I nip at her bottom lip, which elicits a moan.

I slide my hand further up her dress, playing with the string of her thong. “How wet are you right now, baby?” I whisper into her ear.

“We’re in the middle of a packed bar.” She gasps as I dip a finger under her underwear, feeling the warmth radiating off her.

“That just means you’ll have to be quiet.” I drag my finger up her center. “Such a bad girl, you’re absolutely soaked. Does the thought of me making you come in front of all these people turn you on, Baylor?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes,” she sighs, closing her eyes. The bartender shoots me a look, and I raise my unoccupied hand in acknowledgment and flash him a cocky smile.

“You’re going to give us away, Baylor.” I nip at her ear as I plunge a finger inside her. “Open your eyes and keep a straight face while I fuck you with my fingers.”

She snaps her eyes open and looks at me, her facial expression already clouded.

“Talk to me,” I order as I add another finger.

“I-I really enjoyed our date earlier today.”

“I had a great time, too.” I smile at her, giving no indication that I’m currently moving my fingers in and out of her tight pussy. Her walls clench around me with each movement, and I ask her, “What did you like the most about it?”

She sucks in a breath as I start to circle her clit with my thumb. “Probably listening to all of the live music. T-that was my favorite part.”

I lean into her ear. “Not performing?”

She shakes her head.

“Interesting. Regardless, your moans are music to my ears. Better than any performer. I can’t wait to hear you scream my name again.”

Apparently, my girl likes dirty talk, because as I rub her clit and fuck her with my fingers, her walls begin to clench around me. I continue the motions, smirking when warmth trickles along my palm and a sigh escapes Baylor’s mouth.