Ezrin
the guitarist
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Ezrin strummed his guitar, half-listening to the chatter. Six girls had crowded into the meet-and-greet, all flocking around Kai, the frontman. It was always like this—girls falling over the singer while the rest of the band faded into the background. Ezrin smirked. Didn’t girls like guitarists anymore? Where has the world gone?
He leaned back on the leather couch, toying with his pick, trying to drown out their laughter. Kai was basking in the attention, flashing his signature grin.
Ezrin muttered something and bent over his guitar, picking out a complex riff to muffle the noise.
Bored, he glanced at the clock. Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes of Kai’s voice and that endless giggling, like he was the funniest man alive.
His gaze drifted back to the group—and that’s when he saw her.
She stood on the edge, not laughing, not watching Kai. Her eyes were on him. Or more precisely—on his hands, on the guitar. She watched his fingers move, head slightly tilted, eyes curious.
She was beautiful—not in the loud, 'look-at-me' way her friends were, but with a quiet kind of beauty.
Her dress was different too—soft, black, just above the knee. No heavy makeup, no flashy heels. She looked like she belonged in a field of flowers.
His fingers stilled. She noticed. Their eyes met. Time paused.
She was beautiful like in a girl-next-door kind of way. The kind you'd proudly take home to your mother.
A faint smile tugged at his lips before he could stop it.