A Songbird’s Inspirationfor lulu-spencer
This takes place maybe a month or so after Enough.
“Let’s see. I think you should write one about tongues!” I look over at the ridiculous goofball that is my boyfriend, and give him the best skeptical smart-ass look I have in me.
I’ve been trying to write songs all afternoon, and Norman has insisted on helping me. His idea of helping, however, is to give me absurd and inappropriate suggestions that he knows I’ll hate. I consider it being annoying, but he insists he’s instilling inspiration.
We are currently sitting on opposite sides of the couch in my trailer, with my feet in his lap and a notebook in mine.
“What do I look like, Miley Cyrus? If you want to hear a song about tongues, I suggest you request it of her.” I gently kick him in the stomach with my foot, only for him to grab it and start to drag me toward him.
Once he’s pulled me into his chest, I lean back against him and prepare to get cozy, only to feel his wet tongue run up my neck. Squealing, I jump back to the other side of the sofa and chuck my pen at his stupid face.
Sticking the offensive tongue out at me, Norman laughs and continues, saying, “I just want to hear something already. You’ve been scribbling in that notebook of yours all afternoon. You’ve got to have something Emmy.”
Hiding behind said notebook, I only scoot in closer to myself and whisper, “I do have something, but it’s not ready to be performed yet.”
He looks at me skeptically, but I continue, “You’ll be the first to hear it though when it’s done, I promise.”
I continue to scribble quietly, and after a few seconds, Norman breaks the silence. “I love hearing you sing ya know.” It’s a simple statement, but the seriousness in his voice makes me look up into his eyes. They’re happy but the joking demeanor he’s recently been sporting is gone.
Fiction becomes reality for a second, as we share a look a la candlelight Beth and Daryl, with Norman pulling my feet back into their original spot in his lap.
Suddenly a ring comes from Norman’s phone effectively ruining our moment. After looking down at the screen for a second he looks back up at me and sighs before saying, “Andy just texted me. I better go get ready.”
He gently takes my feet out of his lap and gets off the couch, coming over and giving me a quick peck before he makes his way to the door.
I give him one last smile and a wave as he walks out, and look down at my notebook. In my sporadic handwriting is one song in its entirety. It’s the only one I’ll finish today, but it’s perfect, so I don’t even feel the need to compose another one.
I read it back to myself and laugh, thinking about the doofus it’s about and how much I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him.