“No such thing as terrible students. Terrible teachers, yes.” he pointed out before suddenly lifting his black guitar case up off of the ground. Katelynn hadn’t seen it before, due to the angle in which he had greeted her, but now she saw. He patted it. “I brought a friend.” Jack said quietly. “This used to be my father’s guitar, back when he and mom were still courting.” he opened the case and lifted an old acoustic guitar out of the case. It was black, and looked well looked after.
‘It’s beautiful’ she wrote, looking at the guitar and admiring it. ‘They taught you to play it?’
She was really impressed and it showed on her face, looking at Jack in a sort of hero worship. To be able to paint and play an instrument was definitely winning him even more points of awesome with her. She wondered if he was going to play it here.
“Of course.” Jack said with a small smile. “Since I was ten years old.” he said as he ran a hand along the neck of the instrument, knowing every nick, every scratch to its paint job. He gripped the neck, created a chord, and strummed his fingers over them and gave out a soft, slow strum.
“…I. I was going to play for you, on New Years Eve. As a surprise.” he admitted, before looking up at her. “But I want to play for you now.”
Jack Maple 