Riley started tapping her foot against my stool. It matched the rhythm of the pulse racing through my veins.

Just the sound of the word "dad" had me ready to jump up and run.

Riley's foot just kept fucking moving. Every little flutter of motion she made kept me from being able to concentrate on what I should do next. This was something I had never done before. I never stuck around long enough after I hooked up with a girl to be introduced to her whole family.

Tap, Tap, tappity-tap, tap, tap.

I nudged Riley's foot with mine to try to pin it down so she would stop. She dodged me and kicked out at my shin. The little boy inside me was ready to pick her up and flip her upside down.

Riley turned away from me and towards the door with an enormous smile on her face.  A shorter, wide-bodied guy with sandy brown hair was standing in the doorway, watching the two of us pick at each other.  I knew he saw the exchange between us because of the way he pursed his lips at me.

"Hi Honey," Mrs. Davis said excitedly when she saw him.  She seemed to notice him staring a hole through me and quickly went into introduction mode. "Kurt, this is Ezra. Ezra is in the band with JD. He plays guitar."

Mr. Davis looked down to where my body had drifted closer to Riley's. If I wrapped my arm around her waist and applied a little bit of pressure, she could have easily been sitting on my stool right along with me.

I wasn't sure when or how we even got that close.

I placed my foot on the ground and inched my stool back a few inches to give her a little space. Mr. Davis' slight scowl softened as soon as I was sitting at a more respectful distance from his daughter.

"Hey, Ezra." His deep voice boomed. Even though we had never met, he felt familiar to me. He and JD had the same timbre to their voice. They both had this deep and raspy tone that resonated all from their throats.  "New guitarist, huh? I played a little guitar back in my day too."

"Dad, you still play." Riley performed her signature eye roll at him.

"Well, I didn't want to brag about it." He smiled at her warmly, like she was the only person in the room. 

Mr. Davis was nothing like I expected. I felt much more at ease seeing the way he responded to Riley.  A pang of jealousy washed over me, seeing how the two of them were together. Not because of my selfish need to have all of Riley's attention to myself but because she had something I would never have.

She had a dad who loved her.

"How long have you been playing?" Mr. Davis asked me.

"I started about ten years old," I answered.

I didn't feel comfortable talking about how I discovered my love of music. It wasn't intentional dodging, but I felt reluctant to say much more. The heaping heaviness of my messed-up childhood had been weighing me down my whole life. I didn't like to share much about my family. It was safer that way. I hated when people gave me sympathetic stares. I didn't want anyone to feel sorry for me.

When I looked around the room, all three pairs of eyes were staring at me like they expected me to keep going. There was no way any of them were going to let me get out of this room without giving them a little more information, especially the frustrating girl sitting next to me who was looking at me like I was a science experiment.

"My dad left my mom and me and the only thing I had of his was his acoustic guitar. I picked it up one day and never put it down." I started fiddling with eyebrow rings nervously.

"Self-taught or lessons?" Mr. Davis asked, giving me an understanding nod as he changed the subject.

There was a wise, methodical way about Mr. Davis.  I felt like he was having a secret conversation with me without him even saying anything. 

"I started teaching myself. By the end of my first week, I was able to play some simple three-chord songs. After a couple of months, my mom noticed I was enjoying it so much that she enrolled me in a class with a classical instructor." I explained.

"Smart woman." He nodded in approval.

I smiled, thinking about the way she used to clap for me when I played her every new song I learned, even if it wasn't very good. My mom may have had her fair share of issues, but she was still my mom.

"The band should come over to dinner sometime this week, maybe Wednesday? It's been ages since I've seen everyone. Riley can help me make Lasagna and we can sit and talk about music. Do you think you guys can make it?" Mrs. Davis asked.

"I have to work in the morning, but I could be here around five. We were going to have band practice in the evening, but I think they will reschedule for a homecooked meal."

"Riley, you can invite Brynn too, so you're not bored." Mrs. Davis suggested.

Brynn?

The name sounded slightly familiar.  She had to be the same sloppy girl I saw leaving Aiden's room the night I met Riley.  Riley didn't seem to have many friends outside of JD's circle, at least none that I had met.

"I have to work that morning too. My shift ends at 5:30 PM, so I won't be able to help." Riley responded. I noticed she skirted around the Brynn topic with her mom like she wanted to sweep it under the rug.

"That's fine, peanut.  Are you going to invite Brynn?" Mrs. Davis pressed again.

"I'll ask her." The corners of Riley's mouth turned down into a frown.

Mr. Davis looked at his daughter's sour face and jumped back in to save her.

"Ok, enough about dinner, that's days away." He waved his persistent wife off and turned his attention back towards me. "Hey Ezra, since you have been playing a while, maybe you can help me out? I have been working on fixing up an old Ibanez electric guitar I found at a flea market. I have been debating what kind of strings to use.  Do you have any thoughts?"

"It depends on what sound you are looking for. What do you typically play?"  I asked.

"Mostly classic rock, folk, or singer/songwriter. I dabble with other types of genres, but those three are what I like the most." He answered. 

I could appreciate that. There were some days when playing in a heavier rock band felt too cumbersome and exhausting.

The classics were classics for a reason.  Even I had a secret spot for them tucked away.

"You probably want to consider nickel strings. They are my favorite for more mellow, rhythm-based tonality.  I don't ever get to use them enough because they don't stylistically fit the band's sound." I answered.

"Interesting. What about the blended ones that are nickel wound? They have better versatility." He rubbed his chin, considering the options.

"It would work, but the warmness in the pure nickel will give you a richer sound. I don't think you would be disappointed." I was grinning from ear to ear.  I never got to talk with anyone this in-depth about the thing in the world I loved the most.  No one in the band understood the differences and the little nuances.  They didn't have that type of knowledge or a strong enough ear to hear the how much better the blend was when you used the right material.

Riley let out a little snicker and was looking over at me with a huge grin on her face.  She had absolutely no idea what we were talking about but was trying to follow along.  Something about what we were talking about was amusing her. 

She performed this little skilled move where she looked down and then back up to bat her eyelashes at me.  It only made me want to reach out my hand to touch her again. I was smiling like a complete idiot while I stared at her.

"Ahem." Mr. Davis cleared his throat subtly. His eyes kept moving between Riley and me, drinking in the dynamic between the two of us.

Did he know how crazy his daughter made me feel? Could he tell how much I wanted her?

He gave me sideways eyes like he already suspected something was going on between us. It was time for me to go before I gave everything away.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"It's around four." He said, looking down at a watch on his wrist.

"I have to go. We have practice in an hour."  I stood up quickly to leave. 

"Thanks for bringing Riley home today." Mrs. Davis said appreciatively.

"It was really no trouble at all. It was a pleasure meeting you. I guess I will see you on Wednesday." I went over and shook Riley's dad's hand.  His grip was every bit as firm as I expected. His handshake was just as hard as mine.  My hand was going to be throbbing by the time we were done. 

He squeezed my shoulder with the other hand and nodded before letting me go.  When I turned back around, Riley was standing right behind me.

I wanted more than anything to give the mouthwatering blond a proper goodbye. 

"Oh, crap. I left my stuff in your car." Riley smacked her head.

"I can get it and bring it back up." I offered.

"You don't have to do that. I'll just run out and grab it." She smiled at me like she had a plan brewing in her head.