Deacon and Cady under a Tree

True to his word, at 1:59 Deacon took a seat at one of the patio tables outside Cup of Joe’s.

Emerging through the door, Cady turned her left wrist to look at her watch, “Right on time I see,” she commented, giving him a warm smile.

Making a face, “Would it be cheesy if I said I had a good reason to be on time?” he asked.

“That would all depend on what you said that good reason was,” she replied.

He grinned cheekily, “Why to show off my meager skills on the old six string,” he said, keeping his eyes on hers.

“Meager?” she challenged.

Getting up from the table, “Come on,” he said, leading her across the way and into the green expanse of the tree spotted Commons.

Sitting on the grass near a tree, he put the guitar in his lap, “Ready?” he asked.

Sitting down cross-legged across from him, “You play left handed?” she noted.

“Everything I know I got off Guitar Hero lefty flip,” he said with mock seriousness.

“I’m ready,” she stated.

Earning his scholarship on the merits of his classical ability, he started with an amazing rendition of Asturias by Francisco Tarrega then transitioning into a moving version of Recuerdos de la Alhambra.

“Holy cow are you ever good,” she praised, a look of disbelief on her comely face.

“Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all week,” he said, using his fret hand to mime silencing the nonexistent crowd.

Cady chuckled and shook her head, “You are funny,” she declared, reaching and touching his right arm near the shoulder.

“Something a little more contemporary maybe?” he asked, launching into an acoustical version of Stairway to Heaven. “I don’t pretend to be a vocalist,” he warned before singing along with his playing.

Cady laughed, clapping her hands together excitedly, “You are definitely more than meager, you are outstanding,” she declared.

Grinning, he ceased playing and set his guitar to the side, “Ladies and gentlemen, Elvis has left the building.”

“You definitely have to talk with Carol, she’ll love what you can do,” Cady assured.

There was no disputing his talent with the guitar, but he was also shy, using his skill with the instrument as a means to overcome insecurity and feelings of social awkwardness, “So you like?” he asked, not poaching for compliments just reassurance.

Putting her hand to the side of her head, she pulled it away slowly fanning out her fingers and making an explosion noise wither mouth, “Consider my mind blown,” she said.

Deacon grinned.

“And here I thought you were just trying to pick me up,” Cady said, batting her eyes playfully.

Deacon blushed, fishing his phone out of his pocket, “Sorry, I’m waiting to hear back from my roomie,” he said, giving her an apologetic smile, cheeks still crimson.

“You are too cute,” she replied, coy smile on her face.

“He went out with one of the girls from the Omega Pi house last night,” he replied, checking to see if Oliver had responded to his earlier texts. Nothing.

Cady screwed up her face and shook her head, “Those girls are so snobby, even in the café they act like they’re better than everybody else. I’m surprised one of them would stoop to mingle with the common rabble,” she shared.

“Oh no, I think Oliver is uncommon rabble,” Deacon jested, tucking his phone back away.

“He should be wary of those girls,” she cautioned.

Deacon frowned, “Wary?” There was no denying when not dolled up Cady was still very attractive, but by comparison, the one Omega he met, Brooklynn, was stunning. Was the barista just being a little catty, maybe?

“Rumors and innuendo surround that house. I heard some guys in the café call their sorority house The Ice Mansion. And it is no secret that that sorority is connected, and well, anyone who seems to cross their path or run afoul of them gets dealt with quickly and efficiently,” Cady answered, eyes wide.

Pushing his nose to the side of his face, “Connected? Like do you think they are mobbed up or something? Concrete galoshes?” he asked grinning, but the little voice in the back of his head dredging up his conversation with Oliver about the misfortunes suffered by the recipients of their little bands. Cam had three bands and he was gone. Bear too, and now Oliver.

“They seem just privileged, wolves in sheep’s clothing. I don’t how else to describe it,” she tried to explain, shrugging her shoulders.

Was Oliver in some kind of trouble? What kind of trouble could he get in? “Oliver seems like a pretty grounded guy, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he assured, though not feeling nearly as confident as he tried to sound.

“Sorry,” she chuckled, “I’m sure your roommate is perfectly fine.”

“Hey, enough about those girls with their noses in the air, why not tell me a little something about yourself?” he invited. Why hadn’t Oliver replied to the text messages?

Shrugging her shoulders, “Not much to tell really,” she replied.

“Come on, everyone has story,” he urged, trying to get her to open up. Should he send another text? What would he do if Oliver didn’t use the code?

“Just regular girl living the dream,” she chuckled.

Sliding the guitar back onto his lap, he started playing Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing, singing the opening lines then humming along with the music.

Letting down her dark hair, she shook it free, “You are too much, I could just eat you up,” she teased.

Stopping playing, “Speaking of eating, would you let me take out for some food sometime?” he asked, expression hopeful. “Just my way of saying thanks for putting the patch in for me at your work about me playing there.”

“In that case, I accept,” she replied. “Speaking of that, Carol is there now and this is a lull time, do you want to go back and talk with her?”

“That is an affirmative,” he asserted with a smile.