I've been thinking about this idea for ages, but writing it was still kinda hard... but Rebecca SO deserved the lead.
Shy That Way
There wasn’t much Rebecca hated more than switching on her car radio and hearing the Jonas Brothers, yet it seemed to happen every time. At least it wasn’t as bad as sitting through an hour of them hosting XM radio, trying to tune them out to listen to her favorite songs. It wasn’t that she had anything against pop rock music or even Disney as a whole. She simply loathed manufactured music slapped on a talent-less bunch of boys who sold CD’s by looking pretty. Harsh? She didn’t think so. She worked in the Barnes and Noble Music section and at the local guitar super center. She knew good music. Some of the Jonas Brothers’ songs had merit, but she couldn’t get past the fact that they were talent-less facades who relied on a backing band for their instrumentation and computer effects for their voices.
She switched the station as one of the boys hit a high note that was surely only on key because of sound mixing technology. After three songs on the new station, there they were again. She groaned and hit the CD button, turning on a mix of her favorite songs--real, raw, good music.
She arrived at her main job at the guitar center and clocked in. She started shelving the latest books they had gotten in, but as she worked through the stacks she exclaimed, “Ew!”
“What, Rebecca,” asked her manager.
“Please explain why we have a Jonas Brothers,” she curled her lip, “songbook in here.”
Her manager shrugged. “The kids who come in here ask for it all the time. Have to keep the customers happy.”
Rebecca scoffed. “As if they could copy their sound without a full studio of sound editing equipment.”
The other woman, used to her anti-Jonas tirades, just laughed and returned to work. A few hours and two guitar sales later, Rebecca was walking through the rows of hanging guitars. This was a musician’s paradise, with about a thousand guitars and three hundred basses in stock, and an atmosphere where people felt comfortable just sitting around and messing with the instruments. Rebecca enjoyed walking through and listening to people play. There were amateurs who were just learning, and experienced musicians playing the oldest and greatest songs. Occasionally she would hear a young guitarist tearing out riffs and think she would hear them on the radio someday. Today, though, the store was mostly empty.
She headed through the double wooden doors into the acoustic section of the store, checking and tuning strings here and there. When she passed an alcove where some of the high-end guitars hung, she did a double take. Sitting on the bench with his back to her was a man in dark skinny jeans, gold Converse shoes, and a black sweatshirt. Normally she would have scoffed at the emo kid and kept going, but there was something about the way his fingers danced up and down the fretboard with skill and delicacy that made her stop and listen.
He was singing, too, in a sweet, passionate voice. “So close, yet so far, but in my heart you’re here with me. You did not leave, you just went to live in eternity.” Rebecca leaned against the doorframe and listened. His voice was going straight to her heart. “We will live in the light of the sun again, dancing in the river of life and I know it will never end. Don’t want to let you go…”
When he finished the song, Rebecca held her breath as quiet settled, praying he would start another song. He did. His fingers flew and bounced on the frets in a difficult rendition of a song she knew well, Shy That Way. She was aware of how tough the guitar part was, but he was playing with it, making it harder, but still making it sound easy. “Wow,” she said under her breath. He got halfway through the female part of the duet, then stopped. “Do you sing?” he asked quietly, not turning. She jumped, startled, and he laughed gently. “Saw you in the reflection of that guitar. So, do you sing?” he repeated.
She gulped and nodded. “A little.”
“Well, sit down and sing it with me. I saw you mouthing the words.”
Rebecca slipped into the alcove and sat beside him as he started picking out the melody line again. “Boy, you’re stunning, you’re absolutely stunning, but I’m always running,” she sang, and saw him nod in approval. She still couldn’t see his face, but she watched his shoulders, broad and strong, move with with the beat and caught a glimpse of dark, curly hair under his hoodie.
She felt her heart stutter and her breath catch when he came in with his part, “Girl, you’re stunning, you’re absolutely stunning, but you’re always running, but I’ll catch up to you.” She almost missed the entrance for the rest of her part.
When they finished the song, he said, “You’re really good. What’s your name?”
“Rebecca,” she answered, “and you’re beyond good. You should be famous. You’re better than half the platinum artists out there,” she added, thinking of the Jonas Brothers.
He laughed. “Thanks. Nice to meet you.” Pulling down his hood, he met her eyes with a sensitive smile. “I’m Nick Jonas.”
Rebecca stared in shock. “Nick Jonas? Like, of the Jonas Brothers?”
He grinned. “Yep. Are you a fan?”
“Ew, no!” It slipped out, and she covered her mouth. “I mean, um, not really my kind of music.”
Nick nodded slowly, a teasing half-smile on his face. “Right. That’s exactly what you meant.” Laughing, he touched her hand. “You know, it’s not a crime to not like my music.”
Rebecca blushed at his touch. “Is it a crime to call you talent-less pretenders who only succeeded because of Disney and lots of sound mixing devices?”
He merely blinked. “Well, it’s not very nice, but it’s not a crime, just an opinion.” He picked out a quick, melancholy riff that severely challenged her accusations of his being talent-less. “So I guess you were just laughing at how awful I was while you were standing there.”
“No!” Rebecca blurted. “No, it was beautiful.”
He smiled. “Well, no sound mixers here. Not even Disney.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, well, I’m not convinced.”
“Wasn’t trying to convince you.” He glanced at his watch. “Man, I have to go. I’m meeting my brothers at the studio in ten.”
“Okay. It was weird meeting you.”
He laughed as he hung the guitar back in its slot. “Nice meeting you, too, Rebecca. I’ll see you later, maybe.”
“Well, I know I’ll see you later,” she retorted with a roll of her eyes.
He tossed his dark curls and chuckled. “Hate us that much, huh? Well, I can’t help being on TV.”
“And posters. And radio. And breakfast food, for heavens’ sake.”
“Right. See you.” And he was gone, pulling his hood up to hide his identity.
She thought about Nick the rest of the day. His voice echoed in her ears and when she closed her eyes she saw his strong fingers skimming across the strings. When she got in the car that evening, his song came on the radio five minutes into her drive. For once, she didn’t switch it immediately, and instead left it, listening to his voice. It was the same as she had heard in the little alcove full of guitars. Hearing the guitar in the background, she imagined him playing it.
She almost lost herself to it, but then switched it off. She hated this band. Manufactured music. She knew good music, and this wasn’t it.
Three days later, she walked into work and the manager called her over. “Hey, Rebecca, some kid in a hoodie came in looking for you yesterday. He left this.” She handed her a CD in a thin, clear case. “And this.” A scrap of paper went with it.
The CD was an unprinted, plain disc. It was labeled in neat, slanted Sharpie, “Songs for Rebecca”. The note was in the same handwriting. “Rebecca--made this for you. It’s not to change your mind, hey, you’re not even obligated to enjoy it. But it’s for you, from me. --NickJ”
Work seemed to drag by. Finally, she clocked out, jumped in the car, and popped the CD in the player. The clear, wholesome sound of an unamplified guitar came through the speakers. “Hello, beautiful,” he sang, and Rebecca was knocked flat by his voice once again.
The disc went on with songs she knew and songs she didn’t. Each one was beautifully sung with intricate, flawless guitar work. As she listened, she grew more and more fond of his voice, his sound. There were some tracks she knew were covers of other groups, and the more she listened, the better she liked his version. After a week, she enjoyed them more than the originals.
When an older single of theirs, When You Look Me In the Eyes, came on the radio two weeks after she had gotten the CD from Nick, she turned it up and sang along, reveling in the sound of Nick’s voice. She even came to enjoy his brother Joe’s singing, and she appreciated the lyrics--she could tell now that they had come from Nick’s mind, and weren’t just the product of the Disney machine.
A month after he gave her the disc, she found herself buying their latest CD. Two weeks after that, she bought the self-titled album and registered on a fan forum. But in all that time, Nick never returned to the guitar store. She watched for him, listened for him, and asked if the “hoodie kid” had ever come back. Eventually, she learned to check his tour dates and know he wasn’t going to come. He was half a nation away most of the time.
A year went by. Rebecca quit at Barnes and Noble and worked even more hours at the guitar store. One Saturday, as she straightened the guitars in the alcove, someone reached from behind and touched the bracelet on her wrist. A low, smiling voice murmured, “Is that a Jonas Brothers bracelet?”
She glanced down at the leather band with its silver JONAS charm and turned, saying, “Yeah, they--” Her breath was suddenly gone as she found herself face to face, closer than she had expected, with the boy whose voice haunted her dreams. “Nick!”
“Hi.” He smiled. He was taller than before, or maybe she was just closer. “Is it safe to say you’re a fan now?” As she nodded, gulping, he said, “I really wasn’t trying to convince you with that CD.”
“You did,” she managed. Trying to think of something to say, she stuttered out, “H-happy birthday.”
“What?”
“You turned seventeen last week, didn’t you?”
He cracked up. “You really are a fan!”
She smiled. “Uh, yeah.”
“So… we’re not talent-less?”
“No. Very talented.”
“Not manufactured?”
“Definitely not.”
“Products of the Disney machine?”
“Uh…”
“Okay, I can agree with that a little.” They laughed. Then he started talking, telling her about how his life had been, how he wished he had been able to come back to the area sooner. He walked with her as she worked, restocking guitars and tuning. He frequently picked up a guitar and tuned it for her, or helped her hear the flatness of a note. Eventually, she clocked out, and they made their way back to the alcove, where they stood and continued to talk, commenting on each of the guitars, what they liked and what they would change about each.
Suddenly, Rebecca realized that, as they spoke, he had been moving closer and closer to her, and she had been slowly, involuntarily moving back. “Whoa,” he said, grabbing her shoulders. “You’re about to run into the guitar behind you.” He didn’t let go of her arms.
She tried to breathe. His closeness was overwhelming and each new breath she pulled in only managed to fill her head with the smell of his cologne. The rush of her attraction to the boy who had sat in this alcove a year ago blended with the draw she felt to the beautiful rock star in front of her now, and she could barely think straight.
He leaned close to her, looking down at her through long, long eyelashes. “Rebecca,” he breathed, and her name off his tongue nearly knocked her out. “So now you’re a fan of my music,” he said softly, “but… how do you feel about me?”
It took a lifetime of effort to keep her eyes locked on his while he was looking at her like that. “I-I don’t--what do you--”
The corners of his mouth curled up in a soft smile. “I’ll make it clearer for you.” He put the palm of his hand tenderly to the side of her face. “Can I kiss you, Rebecca?”
Her knees were shaking. So were her hands, her lips--her entire body was trembling with his nearness and his soft, husky voice. She couldn’t speak or even nod, even though she desperately wanted to say yes. Finally, she simply let her eyes drift closed and tilted her chin up, waiting, more nervous than she had been in her entire life.
Then she felt the soft, tingling brush of his lips against hers, and all her anxiousness melted away, replaced by a flood of heat and sweetness that rushed through her. The blood sang in her veins and burned like fire, and she let her hands drift over his chest and around to his back, pulling him closer to her. He sighed softly, murmured her name, and pressed a soft kiss against the corner of her mouth before pulling back just enough to look at her. “I’ve been dreaming about that since I met you,” he whispered. “Since you sang with me and,” he laughed, “weren’t afraid to tell me you hated me.”
The days she had hated him seemed like a distant memory--they were a year ago and before his soft, aching kiss. She ran her hands across his neck and into his thick, silky hair, combing through it with her fingers. “If you wanted me for hating you,” she said, barely believing the bold words that were about to come out of her own mouth, “then how much will you want me if I say I love you?”
His breath shook as it puffed out and his eyes closed. “More than words.”
She brought her lips to his cheek and murmured, “I love you, Nick.” Only the second time she had seen him, and she was professing love. Yet she knew him, inside and out, through his song lyrics, his soulful voice, and his smile. And she had no doubts.
He pulled her into his arms and sat down on the little bench where they had sat and sung together a year before. “I love you, too,” he moaned, before capturing her mouth with a strong, incredibly passionate kiss.
His mouth on hers and his arms around her waist made her melt into him. After several long, hot moments, he pulled back and said, “Sing with me?” When she nodded, he pulled a guitar down from the wall and played a few random chords. “I don’t know if you know this one yet.”
“They come and go, but they don’t know
That you are my beautiful
I try to come closer with you
But they all say we won’t make it through”
Rebecca smiled. How could she not know this song? She joined in on the chorus, harmonizing with his beautiful voice. When they got to the bridge, she leaned her head on his shoulder as they sang together, “Can’t stop the rain from falling, can’t stop my heart from calling you.” It was the truest thing she had ever heard. Despite everything against them--her Jonas hate, his fame, their separation--their hearts had called each other… and found each other.
The song ended, he pushed away the guitar, and he pulled her into his arms, not kissing her, just holding her close, his heart beating against her ear. “I love you, Rebecca.”
“I love you, too, Nick Jonas.”
