- A long time ago, Loren had played the harp. Her mother had insisted on her being an expert at something, and thought being a skilled musician was ladylike, admirable, and proper. She had asked to learn the guitar; instead, she got a harp teacher, piano lessons, and a vocal teacher. It had been miserable. Though the instruments were beautiful and her voice became trained and superb, she found no freedom in it. She began to associate pianos, harps, and even singing as performances, because of the many times her mother asked her to play when and only when guests were over. "Loren, darling," she'd say during a party, "please, do sit and play piano for us." Or, "Loren, Mrs. Cove said she'd love to hear your singing voice." The harp was brought out on the most special occasions, to show off the Craft daughter's incredible skill at an instrument not only difficult, but also rarely played. She associated the instruments with a stiff formality that she had grown up with, and had grown to hate.
But the electric guitar... now there was an instrument. Guitar solos and amazing sound, no one watching for a mistake, no one watching for the tiniest slip up to judge her family by. Loren could let herself go with the instrument she had wanted to play from the very beginning. She began to hum as she experimented, playing with new rhythms. She knew Zac didn't care; he let her be her own person, let her explore the boundaries and decide on what she wanted herself. It was one of the reasons she considered him her very best friend. She glanced at Zac, found him watching her, and smiled at him impishly. She found him most attractive when he was drumming, which wasn't surprising; who didn't love a man when he is most passionate? But Zac looked like a different person when he had two sticks in his hand. She could physically see him loosening up, and the two were so close that she could sense when he was about to improvise, when he was about to experiment, when he was about to calm down or play with the dynamics. She had learned his patterns, and wondered if he knew her own.
The song ended as quickly as it began. Or at least, that was how Loren felt. She always felt that way after playing, always wanted more time with the music. This jam session with Zac was one of her most treasured times; they bonded the most here, connected in a way that most people wouldn't understand. They could enter heaven with a single note, and the two of them had a deep understanding of each other in this area. Zac began to laugh wildly, his sounds of mirth increasing in volume when the two made eye contact. Loren shook her head at him, grinning in spite of herself. He was so crazy, especially after he got to bash on his drums. It was almost childlike, and it made her feel a little motherly towards him. Seeing him so carefree made her want to protect him and keep him that way.
But the thing was, he didn't let her in. It upset her sometimes, thinking about the things she didn't know completely about him. She knew him well enough to know that there was something murky in his past, but he had never brought it up, and she cared about him too much to ask. Why didn't he let her in? But these thoughts would only bring her down, and when she was with Zac, she didn't want to be down. He would find out immediately, pester her until she told him why, and that would bring on a spew of problems... especially since it was him that was making her upset. So she started laughing too, setting aside the contemplation for a later time, when she was alone. His drumming at the end had been impressive, and it was enough to make her swell in pride. Her best friend was talented, a genius; how could she not be happy?
"Readier than me, eh?" Zac said. She loved it when he was like this, all teasing and playful. It made her feel comfortable.
"Of course," Loren replied, mocking arrogance and flipping her hair back.
"Not possible when it comes to drumming." He winked then, and Loren giggled. It had always amused her, how winking came so naturally to him. She had grown up in a strict household, and hardly anyone she knew ever winked. Adam had tried, once, but told her that it felt weird and foreign. They were grown up prim and proper, always restricted and refined. So winking was too casual, too silly, too normal for the Craft family and the society they were deeply embedded in. Every time she saw someone wink, she felt a little weird and awkward. It had taken a few years before she got used to winking, recognized that it was only her upbringing that made it seem strange, that it was normal and fun and playful. But it didn't change anything about the way it made her feel.
"Well, in drumming, yes," Loren admitted, her body beginning to move with the beat he began to play, "but in everything else?" She leveled her gaze, raising an eyebrow at him while smiling fondly at him. He was right; he was always happiest with his two drumsticks. She wondered just how social he would be if it was possible to drum every second of the day. In the beginning of their friendship, when she first realized just how passionate he was about drumming, Loren had thought it cute. Imagine the girl he would love with a depth that surpassed his love of drumming; it was adorable to think about. Sometimes, she looked at Zac and saw a whole love story played out with a sweet girl, cute and simple and adorable, charming enough to draw him away from drums for a whole week and win his heart over.
She never wanted to see him give up drumming, but sometimes, when she watched him acting like this, Loren thought of how lucky the person who could keep him away from the kit was. It would be the easiest way to see how much Zac cared for you, if you could keep Zac away from the drums. But she supposed anyone who loved Zac just as deeply wouldn't dare stop his drumming. The rhythm was a part of Zac, and it couldn't be changed. Ever.
"Well then, we're going to have to ditch the next party and camp out in here, drumming away!" Loren announced, beginning to play a little tune with the electric guitar to match Zac's beat. She was content right here, playing an instrument, a few feet away from Zac but still in the same room with him, connecting in a way that touch couldn't dream to supply. That was the beauty of music: bonding.