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There was the cigarette, glowing to life at the lighter’s flame.

The bits and pieces started to strand together as she inhaled the thin smoke into her lungs. Her chest expanded, taking it in like oxygen.

Daytime. Road. Trees. Store. Cars. Bike. Park.

She listed them off in her head and took several long drags as she did.

Somehow, this smoke felt easier to breathe than the mid-summer air. She closed her eyes and inhaled, then exhaled a stream through her nose.

Wind. Grass. Gasoline. Dirt. Alcohol. Sweat. Rain.

Her eyes shot open.

Rain.

The musty scent had snuck up on her before she felt the first drop hit her forehead, then another her arm. She hadn’t heard of any chance of rain.

Somewhere in the minutes she’d stopped to collect her wits, clouds had gathered right above her and brought with them a downpour.

A wall of rain approached from across Main.

Nell jumped to her feet and dropped the cigarette to the ground. The water would take care of it. She grabbed her bike and pulled it with her as she sprinted to the next-door strip mall’s canopied sidewalk before the water dropped on the ground around her.

Great. Just the thing she needed.

Nell sighed and looked at the sky. It’d become dark, giving her the feeling it would be longer than a momentary downpour.

She might have to break her promise to her mother about being home in time for dinner.

She would never ride in this.

Ready to give up and settle onto the sidewalk for as long as it took, Nell paused when she heard music. Faint and mingling with the shrill of raindrops, but certainly music. A soft, acoustic song being plucked from a guitar.

She tilted her head to the side and listened for its source. The sound got louder when a shop’s door opened just down the street.

It’d been a while since Nell had heard a guitar played like that. It ignited a nostalgia so strong that her feet moved toward the store without a second thought.

Using the canopies as cover, she stopped to peer into the window.

On display was an assortment of musical supplies and past that, in the store, she could see rows upon rows of records and tapes and players. Behind that, guitars hung on the wall.

A familiar, irresistible urge came over her, and Nell leaned her bike against the building.

The bell jingled over the door as she walked in, and she realized the guitar music was coming from the speaker playing around the store—suitable for mood setting in any store, but particularly appropriate in this one.

Nell looked around, at the patrons. A few people were picking through records.

A couple further down were trying on a pair of headphones.

One man was fiddling with an instrument he obviously knew nothing about.

One worker was reading a comic behind the counter, and the other was trying to sell a cassette to someone else.

No one noticed her, which made this situation both dangerous and perfect.

She approached the guitars, studying their designs.

Some looked very similar, some drastically different.

One, in particular, caught her eye; a deep, dark cherry wood boasting six untouched strings over its perfectly smooth surface.

Nell had seen one just like it before. One she doubted she’d ever see again.

Her hands itched to grab it, but she knew better.

She’d gone a little crazy, but not crazy enough to think she could get away with stealing an entire guitar. But here she was, needing to grab something to end this incessant tension that had taken over her thoughts.

She looked around, weighing her alternative options.

Straps, strings, picks.

One of the picks matched the color of the wood—a perfect target.

She checked around her once again. The employee at the counter was still reading, and the other was nowhere to be seen. She was clear.

She grabbed the small pick and slipped it into her pocket without anyone noticing.

She turned and looked out the window. The rain hadn’t slowed; in fact, it seemed more intense than before. She’d have to stay a while, as uneasy as that made her after she’d stolen something.

She thought she was used to it by now, but sometimes the anxiety still caught her off guard.

She couldn’t help it, though.

Needing to look inconspicuous, Nell wandered around the aisles and pretended to look at the music and instruments. She paused every so often to check the state of the weather.

The guitar music ended and switched to a heavier rock piece.

She found herself by the guitars once again, then in front of the books. Note sheets and lesson books stared back at her, and she looked around. She never took more than one thing at once, and nothing ever this big.

But she stared at the title of this one: Guitar for Beginners .

This time, she wasn’t stealing for someone else. She would be stealing for herself.

She reached forward, grabbed the book, and quickly slipped it into her jacket.

“I think it’ll work better if you try to put it into the back of your dress. The belt might hold it in long enough to get outside.”

Nell jumped and spun around, her arm stuck down at her side to hide the book against her.

A stone fell into her stomach.

The long-haired worker, who she thought had disappeared, grinned at her and leaned over the aisle barrier to rest his head on his hand like he was watching a movie.

Nell, the villain, was about to be caught.

She knew him. He was recognizable in a way a lot of Gemsburg’s residents weren’t. His brown hair was as long as it’d been in high school, but his wavy bangs had grown out a bit. Some hung in his eyes, and others were pushed to the side, showing off his smirk.

He’d always been tall, but she remembered him lankier. Now, his arms had filled out some, a little muscle hidden under a maze of dark tattoos. Even his face looked more defined, fitting with his strong, curved nose.

However, the main thing that came to mind when she thought about Scott Barrett was the warnings her parents had given her about the satanic cult members who ran through town, spewing their evil rock music and wicked ways.

Barrett, as everyone called him, was the poster child for the kind of guy parents warn their young daughters from.

So, naturally, Nell yelped.

He grinned brighter, mischievous.

She had no idea he worked here. She had no idea he worked at all, aside from the rumors that he’d sold drugs in high school.

It made sense, though. A wannabe rock star working in a music store.

She didn’t know if it made it better or worse that he was the one to find her. But it did make her one thing.

Terrified.

If he called the police . . .

Her voice stuck in her throat, and she knew she was done for. She managed to squeak out a quick, “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

He raised a brow and pointed to her arm. “What’s that then?”

She looked down at the corner of the beginner’s book sticking out.

Nell lifted her arms and dropped the book before sprinting from the store.