Wicked Innocence by Missy Johnson

them.
    “Yo.”
    I looked up and saw Harry standing in the doorway. I was lying down replying to a few emails, listening to some music, and enjoying the comfort of a real bed.
    “Me and the guys are going to grab some food. You want anything?”
    I shook my head. “No thanks, I’m good.”
    “Suit yourself.” He turned around, hitting the top of the doorframe with the palms of his hands as he walked through it. I sat up and ran my hand through my hair.
    Throwing my laptop back on the bed, I walked out into the living area and picked up my guitar, sitting down and beginning to strum.
    Time alone was something I’d missed the last couple of days.
    “Knock, knock.”
    I looked up and saw Micah leaning against the doorframe. She looked sexy in her fitted jeans and tight red tank with the word ‘rockstar’ splashed across the front in bold, dark letters.
    “Hey. Come on in,” I said, lowering my guitar to the floor.
    “Don’t stop on my account. I could listen to you sing all day.”
    I smiled as she blushed.
    “God, I sound like some kind of freaky stalker. I promise I don’t stand outside your window watching you get changed.”
    I raised my eyebrows. That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. She reached over and wacked me. I rubbed my arm and stared at her in disbelief. What had that been for?
    “You were thinking dirty thoughts,” she accused. She had me there.
    “How would you know? Unless you were thinking them too,” I smirked. She blushed and I laughed. “Sit down.” I gestured to the vacant seat next to me. “You didn’t go out for dinner with the guys?” I added as she sank down into the seat with a sigh.
    “No.” She smiled and looked down, digging at her fingernails intently. “This will sound weird, but I still feel like the new guy. I mean, Harry is friendly, but the others? I don’t even think we’ve had a single conversation. I feel much more comfortable around you.”
    I swallowed the lump in my throat. Why did hearing her say that make my heart pound?
    “That’s fair enough I guess,” I replied. “We’ve gotten to know each other a little better.”
    She looked up and met my gaze. I watched her lips tug into a smile.
    “It’s not even that. I’m not the most approachable person. I have this habit of guarding myself pretty closely. But I feel like I’ve known you forever. I can’t help but laugh at your stupid jokes.”
    “That’s because they’re comedy gold,” I said, winking at her. “My talent is wasted on most people. You’re one of the few people that appreciates my gift.”
    She laughed again. “See? That’s exactly what I mean.” She pulled her legs up and hugged them to her chest. “Sometimes I wish it could be this easy with everyone.”
    “So work on that,” I encouraged her.
    She shook her head.
    “Why not?” I asked.
    “Because it’s safer not to. The less people I let in, the smaller the chances are of me getting hurt.”
    Hearing her talk like that just about snapped my heart in two. What had happened in this girl’s life to make her think that way? It just wasn’t right for her to be so cynical about life…about love.
    Because you’re so different , a little voice in my head pointed out. How many people have you let in?
    “I get it,” I finally said. “I do the same thing. But I think I do it for different reasons.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I’ve hurt a lot of the people I love. I think I push people away because I’m afraid of hurting them.” I stood up. This was way too deep a conversation to be having without alcohol. “Drink?” I asked her as I opened the small fridge.
    “A soda would be good,” she smiled. She raised her hand at the beer in my hand. “I thought you said you didn’t drink.”
    “I don’t,” I said, popping the top and sitting back down. “I also don’t pour my heart out to pretty girls.”
    She smiled shyly. “You think I’m pretty?”
    My face flushed. Did she seriously not realize what