Page 34 of Don't Think

The door swings open, and for a second, it’s like the air vanishes. She looks like she just woke up, despite it being nearly six at night. Her hair is piled into a messy bun, and she’s wearing a thin, oversized jumper slipping off one shoulder.

And somehow, she still looks just as beautiful as ever.

She runs a hand over her forehead, trying to tame her wild hair.

“Hi!” she says with what sounds more like forced enthusiasm. “I… uh… come on in.” She steps aside, her hand still glued to her forehead.

James skips inside while Gareth and I slink behind. My eyes meet Allie’s the second I cross the threshold, and I offer her a warm smile. She returns the gesture, and her shoulders noticeably relax as she slowly closes the door.

I nervously look down, trying to think of something to say—anythingto break the awkward silence. Except awkward and I are old friends. I was always that shy, nerdy kid, and here I am, well into adulthood, about to produce an entire record with my band, and I still can’t figure out how to talk to a pretty girl.

Pretty fucking pathetic if you ask me.

“You have a lovely home,” I finally say, sweeping my arm out to the large space. If we thought the outside was huge, it didn’t even begin to compare to the inside. The high ceilings make evenmefeel small.

“Oh, uh”—she tucks a strand of hair nervously behind her ear—“thanks. It’s my aunt’s.”

She walks by me slowly, and my feet become glued to the floor the second her perfume hits me. Then I’m suddenly transported back to the day we first met. My heart swells with that same euphoric feeling, heat gradually spreading across my chest.

I finally start to follow her into the large living area, but then my eyes land on a gorgeous six-string acoustic mounted on thewall. My feet come to a halt, and I stare at it, awestruck by the sun bouncing off the wood.

“Isn’t it pretty?” Allie’s voice comes from behind me.

When I turn around, her arms are crossed over her chest, a small smile lifting at the corners of her mouth. She walks farther in and extends her hand slowly, running her fingers lightly over the strings.

I stare at her while she marvels over the instrument, my pulse ripping through my wrist.

“Beautiful,” I reply, although now I’m not so sure I was talking about the guitar anymore.

“I always wanted a Taylor growing up,” she says before her hand slips from the guitar and she turns to face me. “My mom always said an acoustic was plenty loud enough, and I didn’t need an excuse to make it louder with an amp,” she adds with a chuckle.

I want to respond to keep the conversation going, but I can’t tear my eyes away from her smile—how effortlessly it shines, especially now when talking about music.

Then a question slams to the front of my brain with every alarm flashing.

My eyebrows furrow. “Wait, you play?” I ask, trying not to sound as shocked as I feel.

“Played,” she corrects me. “All throughout high school. I found any excuse I could to play. I always thought that’d be my career, but life had other plans.”

Her eyes return to the guitar, and that same storm I noticed the other day is raging now. I can see the sadness she holds behind those bright blue eyes, but somehow, she still has a smile on her lips every time I see her.

“Do you mind me asking what direction you went in?” I ask softly.

Her eyes meet mine, and she gives me a small shrug. “I decided to go with my second love”—her smile widens—“I chose—”

An arm suddenly appears around my shoulder, making me jump. I turn to see James grinning ear to ear.

“Mate, youhaveto see this!”

I don’t even have time to protest before he yanks me away from Allie, dragging me into the living room. I stumble over my own feet as heliterally pulls me by the neck.

We finally stop in front of a large flat-screen TV, and I’m more confused than ever.

“That’s great, bud,” I say, trying to hide my confusion.

He bends at the knees, shaking his head. “No, you prat. I’m talking about this,” he says, gesturing to a collection of vinyl records below it.

My eyes widen, and I kneel beside him. It’s like a fucking gold mine—everything from Alice in Chains to AC/DC, even Metallica still sealed.