Loving Mr. Daniels Page 14


“A double problem?”

He laughed lightly, rubbing the palm of his hand against his jawline. “A double problem is when you have one of something you really love, so you go out and get the same thing, just in case the first one breaks or something. When she married my dad, she was in love with the idea of taking his last name. So I guess it was just fitting that I was the double to the last name she loved.”

I was still as a stone as I watched his lips form words, and curiosity rocked my being. I wanted to know more. More about the double problem. More about his parents. More about him. I wanted to know anything and everything about the stranger who played music that had the power to make me feel good for a few moments.

I wanted to know more about the stranger whose lyrics had wrapped me up and yanked me away from sadness. His mysterious approach drew me in, and his friendly nature kept me there and focused on him.

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” I said, eyeing the missing sleeve.

“It’s just a shirt,” he smiled.

Yet I knew it was much more than that.

A silence came again, and my eyes shot down to my water, where I stared at the lemon for the longest time. When I looked up again, he was still smiling, and I racked my brain for anything to say, anything to make me not appear like a nineteen-year old sitting in a bar.

“Where did you get your band’s name from?” I questioned.

“Shakespeare. Romeo’s quest to find love.”

“That play ended pretty tragically.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know. There is something about the tragic stories of Shakespeare. It’s as if we all know how it will end, but the adventure makes it worth it. And the story is complicated, but not as much as the others. Romeo loves Juliet, and she loves him. Life just gets in the way. I like to think that the quest was worth the destination.”

“That’s depressing,” I laughed. My gosh… When was the last time I’d laughed? I hadn’t laughed in so long that it kind of felt unnatural. And warming. And exciting. And free.

“I’m a musician. Depressing is my middle name.” He leaned back against the padded booth, making himself comfortable. His words, almost a whisper, stumbled off his tongue. “Speaking of names… What’s yours?”

I wanted to impress him for some reason. Sliding my stamped hand under the palm of my other, I smiled. I wanted to take away all doubt from his mind that he was sitting across from a girl who was sitting in a bar only because she had a stamp stating she was a certain age.

Clearing my throat, I prepared to embarrass myself. “By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself...” When in doubt with what to say, go to Shakespeare. He always had a good thing or two to express.

“Because it is an enemy to thee. Had I it written, I would tear the word,” he said, finishing my quote. And within a second, I was captivated by this beautiful stranger. His lips turned up. “Jesus. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t sexy as hell hearing a beautiful woman quote Shakespeare.”

“I love Shakespeare,” I replied, somewhat excited about the fact. “Othello was the first one I ever read in the fifth grade.” Daniel looked a tad bit stunned by my statement. “What? What is it?”

He ran his hands through his hair and leaned forward. “Nothing. I just gotta say… It’s not every day I sit in a bar and talk about Shakes. My collection back at home is pretty impressive, but it doesn’t exactly bring me too many dates.”

“Yeah, same here. Most people think it’s weird—my infatuation with Shakespeare. My sister was the only one who really understood it, but no one else. She called it my golden.”

“Your golden?”

“Everyone has a golden. It could be anything—a song, a book, a pet, a person. Anything that makes you so happy your insides cry of pure joy. It feels like you’re on drugs but better because it’s a natural high. Shakespeare is my golden.”

“I like how your brain works.”

My cheeks heated up from his comment. Was he flirting with me? Because if there was ever a time I wanted a person to flirt with me, it was definitely while we were talking about reading. There was nothing sexier than a smart banmoy, especially when he was able to make my heart do cartwheels.

“Your music made me smile,” I said, sipping at my water. “I haven’t smiled this much in a very long time.”

Daniel laid his forearms on the table and laced his fingers together. He studied my face unvoiced for a moment. The smile he softly used filled the silence like a perfected speech. His eyes pierced my spirit before he tore his gaze away and lifted his beer up for a swallow. “That’s a real shame.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because when the world gives a person a smile like that, it should be the only activity those lips ever partake in.”

My cheeks rose up and I ran my hands through my hair. Talking about my lips made me think about his lips, which made me think about things I shouldn’t have been thinking about. Time to change the subject.

“So do all of your songs deal with different Shakespeare plays, or was I just being an over-the-top hipster while listening to the lyrics?” I asked.

Daniel tilted his head to the side and his mouth parted. A look of amazement stayed on his face. I liked that look. Okay, truth was I liked all of his looks. “You’re the real deal, aren’t you? Most people don’t pick up on it, but yes. Every song is based on some form of Shakes’s works.”

“That’s so nerdy and hot all at once. I’m not sure how to handle it all.”

“What can I say? I’m a nerd-stud.”

I giggled and sipped from my glass. “So there was Romeo and Juliet of course. Then there was…” I paused, trying to recite the exact order of his set list. “Hamlet, Richard III, The Tempest, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and Othello?”

Daniel’s hand flew over his heart and his back slammed against his booth. “Marry me,” he joked. I almost considered it, too. Daniel’s lips parted, and I swore I sighed just from the sight. “So tell me, no-name girl. What do you do for a living?”

“What do I do or what do I want to do? Those are two different things, I think. I’m currently a student hoping to someday call myself an author.”

“No way? Really?” He seemed honestly interested.

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