“Have any requests, Red?” he said, strumming the instrument as if he was born with one in his hand.
“You can play?”
“Yeah, Hunter’s been teaching me. I feel like you kind of have to play if you’re a music teacher. You know, for sing-alongs and stuff.” Well, those must have been some damn good lessons, because it was obvious that he was a natural.
“What was that song you sang to me last night at Hannah’s?” I said quietly so no one would overhear.
“Oh, ‘Live and Die’ by the Avett Brothers. I’m surprised you didn’t know that one.” I’d gotten a few of their CDs, but not all of them. He started the upbeat song, which had a sweet melody that somehow worked with the lyrics, which might have been taken from a much-less-jaunty-sounding song.
Dusty’s singing voice was deeper than I would have thought, and I could tell he’d had to take the song down a few keys to make it work for him, but he’d done it flawlessly.
I couldn’t help but tap my feet to the addicting chorus, and I felt the eyes and ears of everyone in the kitchen on me and Dusty. He kept his eyes on me the whole time, barely even blinking. A smile of pure joy was stuck on his face, and I couldn’t help but smile, too. He strummed the last note of the song and I laughed.
“What next, Red?”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to. I like playing. It’s one of the only things that makes me truly and completely happy.” He leaned over the guitar and lowered his voice. “Besides you, of course.”
I shot a look behind me, but everyone scrambled to pretend they hadn’t been eavesdropping. “Dusty.”
“What? I can’t say that you make me happy? Damn, Red. Harsh.”
“Play whatever you want. It doesn’t matter to me,” I said, crossing my arms.
“Okay. I will.”
And then he started a song that made me want to beg him to stop and pick another song. After seeing that picture of Nathan, my memories of him were fresh and raw and this song was just going to make it worse.
Dusty somehow did justice to the Ingrid Michaelson version of “Creep,” although I had no idea how. Their voices were galaxies apart, but Dusty took her soft version and added a little bit of the edge back in, making it a little harder, a little more heart-wrenching, and I couldn’t take it.
I got up from the couch and Dusty stopped, slamming his hand on the guitar to stop the strings from vibrating.
“I can’t.” And then I dramatically dashed from the room, ran downstairs and slammed my door before he, and everyone else, could see me crying.
* * *
Of course, given the fact that I lived with a crap ton of people, someone was bound to come after me. A soft knock at my door made me look up from my pillow. I’d thrown myself on my bed, hoping to get myself together so I could explain it to whoever came to ask me what the hell was going on.
“Joscelyn.” Of course it was Dusty. They couldn’t have sent Taylor, or Mase, or even Renee. I wondered how hard he had to fight to be the one to come and check on me.
“Go away, Dusty. Seriously. Just leave me the f**k alone. Go back to your apartment. I’m sure Napoleon is missing you.”
“I’m not going away. I thought I made that pretty damn clear.” I heard him slide to the floor outside the door. “So you can stay in there all you want, but eventually you will need food, or the bathroom, or to get some more Skittles and M&M’s, and I’m going to be here.”
“Why can’t you find someone else?” I said, throwing my pillow at the door. It was a pointless thing to do and didn’t make me feel any better.
“I don’t want anyone else, Red. I want you.”
“Well, I don’t want you.”
He laughed, and I wished I could reach through the door and strangle him.
“I think I can smell your pants burning from here.”
“You think you’re so f**king funny, don’t you?” I got up and spoke through the door so he could hear me loud and clear.
“Sometimes.”
“Dusty. Please. Just leave. Me. Alone.”
He was silent for a moment. I thought he was going to finally go away, but I didn’t hear him get up.
Then I heard him singing softly. “This” by Ed Sheeran. I adored that song, under normal circumstances.
“You’re not going to get me to come out by singing, so just stop it.” He didn’t. The song continued, and Dusty’s voice got louder and stronger.
“Shut the f**k up!” I screamed, pounding on the door. It was just too much. I tried to drown him out, but I couldn’t. I kicked the door repeatedly, trying whatever I could, short of opening the door and punching his lights out, to get him to stop and go away.
“SHUT UP!” His voice was calm and smooth as he sang. I kicked the door one more time and screamed in frustration. He ignored me.
I panted from my freak-out and sat on the floor. My nose was running, so I wiped it on my sleeve.
“Why won’t you stop?” I said, not loud enough for him to hear. “I’m the reason your brother is dead. Why can’t you understand that and leave me alone?” The song cut off.
“What did you say?” There was no way he could have heard me.
“Nothing.” I moved closer to the door. “Dusty?”
“Yes, Jos.”
“Do you think you could ever hate me?”
He shifted on the other side of the door, and his voice got closer, as if he was talking through the crack between the door and the frame.
“Listen to me, Joscelyn. I want you to really hear what I’m saying. If you don’t believe any other thing I say, believe this. There is nothing, nothing, you could, or would ever do, that would make me hate you. You’re not capable of doing something to cause anyone to hate you. I know that. And I also know that...that I love you.”
I started to cry again, putting my head against the door. It was solid and reassuring, and that was what I needed.
“You wouldn’t if you knew, Dusty. You wouldn’t.” I put my hand on the door, and somehow I knew he was doing the same on the other side.
“Oh, Jos. I just... I want to touch you and hold you so bad right now. Can you please let me in? Please.” I reached my hand up and unlocked the door.
“It’s open,” I said, scooting back from the door as he turned the knob and opened the door slowly.
I looked up and there he was.