My group wasn’t where they were supposed to be and I scanned the room until I found them. Tucked away in the corner behind the bleachers, Zeke was sitting in one of the small plastic chairs with his back to me. He was playing a guitar as the three boys sat with their eyes glued to him. The closer I got, the clearer I could hear what he played. It sounded pure, untainted by the rest of his band. I stopped in my tracks and listened as he played a song that sounded familiar. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I knew I’d heard it before. Afraid to interrupt, I stood there and listened. It was beautiful.

It wasn’t the guitar that I’d seen him play before and I wondered where it came from. It was plain, beige, and looked too small for him, but he still played it perfectly.

“Can you teach me how to play?” the quiet boy, Alex, asked.

I’d never heard him talk until now. His eyes were lit up and he looked so involved in Zeke’s playing. It was such a special moment, but I knew Zeke would snap the kids head off and ruin it. Instead, he stopped playing and shocked me.

“Well, that song is kind of hard, but how about I show you how to play something easier. If you like it, I’ll teach something harder. Deal?”

Alex practically clapped his hands like an excited schoolgirl, then quieted down as Zeke started to pick an easy tune for the boys to listen to. It was a slow rendition of “Smoke on the Water” as he picked each chord slowly for the boy to learn. He was saying what each chord was and showing the boy how to place his fingers on the guitar. Then he handed Alex the guitar.

“Okay, you hold it like this,” he said as he positioned the boy’s hands properly.

Then I watched as he very patiently helped Alex pick each part of the chorus. When he was done, he looked up at Zeke like he was a god. It was so adorable.

“Good job, kid,” Zeke said as he ruffled Alex’s hair. “Now, see if you can do it by yourself.”

He praised Alex when he hit the right chords, then softly chuckled and helped him when he didn’t. It was like watching a completely different person and somehow I knew I was seeing the real Zeke.

I reached down to scratch my leg and it brought attention to me. Right in front of my face, Zeke turned into the asshole. His back went stiff and his eyes pinched at the corners.

“Okay, that’s enough for today. Y’all go play,” he said in a stern voice.

Alex smiled up at him, thanked him, and then ran off with the other boys. I heard him say something about being a rock star as he passed me.

“If there’s a guitar in a five-mile radius you find it, huh?” I asked as I sat beside him.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He didn’t look up at me as he picked at it and tuned it.

“Where’d you get that one?”

“Some kid brought it in and left it on the bleachers,” he answered.

“You’re really good with that thing.” I pointed at the guitar.

He grinned up at me. “I’m really good with a lot of things.”

Somehow I knew the flirty, sexual innuendo side of Zeke was a front. I’m not sure how I knew it, but I just did.

“You don’t have to do that with me, you know?” I wasn’t sure if I was headed in the right direction, but I felt like I should make it clear that I wasn’t judgmental.

“Do what?” His brows turned down in confusion.

“Pretend. I saw you with Alex. You’re a nice guy, Zeke. I don’t know why you insist on playing the asshole.”

“I don’t pretend anything. What you see is what you get.” He glared at me.

“If you say so.” I smiled at him and shook my head. There was no way in hell I’d let him intimidate me with those deep eyes.

It was too late. I’d been given a peek into an alternate Zeke universe, and nothing he could tell me would convince me otherwise. He was nice guy who played the part of the asshole.

I took the guitar from him and ran my thumb across the strings. It made an awful noise and I cringed.

“Well, I suck at the guitar.” I giggled.

He didn’t laugh. He just stared back at me like he was pissed off about something. Then out of nowhere he came over and adjusted the guitar in my arms.

“You’re holding it wrong,” he said.

I jerked when he touched my hand to move it down in the right position. I wasn’t sure if he noticed how uncomfortable it made me to be touched, but if he did, he didn’t mention it.

“There. Does that feel more comfortable?” he asked.

It did and I looked up at him and nodded. He slung his head to the side and shifted his overly long bangs out of his face. I loved when he did that.