Metamorphosis by Erin Noelle

sexy he was when he
made music. It took every ounce of will in my body to not look at him while he
performed. There was no doubt he was extraordinary; I looked around and
everyone in that living room, both male and female, was completely mesmerized
by Ash’s voice and the music coming from his fingers. I could hear the sex
dripping from his voice, radiating from the strings of the guitar.
    At times I could feel him looking
at me, like he was singing to me, but I refused to turn in his direction. I was
pretty sure that Dylan sensed it as well because several times when I knew Ash
was staring, he would tighten his arms around me and nuzzle his face in my
neck, leaving behind soft sweet kisses that made me tremble with desire.
    “Alright, I’m going to do one last
song and then turn the guitar over to anyone else who wants to play,” Ash
announced. “Feel free to join me singing this one.”
    I released a huge breath of air
that I had not even realized I was holding. One more song, I could get through
one more song. Ash decided to close his set with “Let’s Get It On.” It was if
he purposely picked that song to irk me or get under my skin. It felt like he was
trying to make fun of me. Of course, everyone else in the room thought it was
awesome, they screamed in approval as the opening line left his mouth and most
of the room joined him in verse. I cringed and tried to block him out; I didn’t
want to give him the pleasure of knowing how he affected me, but I couldn’t
take it any longer. I didn’t want to make a scene and walk out the room in the
middle of the song, so instead I did the next best thing. I turned around in
Dylan’s lap, straddled his legs, and kissed him… hard. And I didn’t break away
from his mouth until the song was over.
    Ash received a standing ovation
from the intimate crowd and I saw him take an exaggerated bow through my
peripheral vision. He then invited anyone else who wanted to play to come up.
    “Do it, Sam. Come on,” Evie nudged me in the side.
    “You play?” Dylan asked. Without
lifting my head from his neck, I shook my head no.
    “Oh yes she does, she’s just being
modest. She’s really good.” Evie insisted.
    I really did NOT want to play. I was
an emotional roller coaster from everything I was feeling about Ash and Dylan,
a bit tipsy from several drinks, and was already uncomfortable with the number
of strangers in the room. However, with Evie , Dylan,
and Jess’ prodding, soon our half of the room was chanting “Scarlett!
Scarlett!” I had never been so embarrassed in my life.
    When Ash realized that they were
calling for me to go up, he held out the guitar towards me, “By all means,
Scarlett. Let’s see what you can do. I can’t wait to hear your rendition of
Amazing Grace.” His voice was saturated in sarcasm. God he was an ass.
    Anger raged through me, partly due
to his mocking of my innocence and his apparent doubt that I could play, but I
was even more infuriated with myself for allowing him to repeatedly upset me.
There was just something about him; in having known him for just a few hours,
he had stirred feelings inside me that I didn’t know I had. And it scared me to
death.
    Fueled by my fury and the alcohol
intake, I snatched the acoustic out of his hands and took the chair he had just
occupied. I was reeling in my brain about what to play, I wanted to respond to Ash’s not-so-cryptic musical messages with something
just as witty. I decided just to sing songs about guys who were dicks, there were more than enough of those to choose from.
They didn’t have to relate to Ash particularly, but enough man-hating that he’d
get the point.
    “Hello everyone,” I began
nervously. “I’m Scarlett, a friend of Jess.’ I’m new here in Houston, just
moved in yesterday so I want to thank you for showing me such a good time
tonight. I hope you enjoy.”
    I took a deep breath and began
with a song I was certain most everyone would recognize, Pat Benatar’s