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It’s been apart of your recent schedule, to stop by Sam’s house during the band’s practice. They’re a pretty decent group, but their guitarist is what really has your interest.
Sam had already asked you if you wanted to join, accompanied later by Abigail’s agreement. But both times you declined. After all, you’d never been taught how to properly play, well, anything. And singing wasn’t your strong suit either, or at least, that’s how you liked to see it. You weren’t too keen on the idea of letting Sam or the others find out.
Sam’s been glancing your way all throughout practice. You’re sitting on his bed, out of the way of the group. It’s not that you feel pushed aside like this, but things get busy on the farm and it’s nice to spend time every once in a while and just… watch.
“Ever thought about learning?” Sam turns to you after the practice, just as you’re leaving his room with the others.
“What?” You know this is one of his attempts at getting you interested in the group, because it was so painfully obvious he’d told Abigail exactly what to say when she brought the idea up with you.
“Well you said you don’t play anything. But have you ever tired to learn?”
You shake your head.
Sam’s face has a knowing look. It seems like he’s already been thinking about this idea for a while, too.
“C’mon. We could use a bass player, and I have the feeling you’d like it. Just trust me,” he smirks and he’s comically unable to play it cool.
“How would you know that?” Your tone comes off a little more offended than you’d hoped, like you cant believe he’d be so presumptuous to bring the idea up.
“I dunno… it’s kinda like guitar, I could teach you some simple stuff – if you want?
You’re not the kind of person to actively pick up a ton of new hobbies, especially with the farm work being so demanding. But… it seems like it might be nice to be apart of their little band. And more than usual, today you decide that it might just be worth it.
“Y’know, sure. Why not?” You shrug and wander over to him.
Sam’s already picking his guitar up again and he pats the empty space on the bed for you to join him.
“So… bass is pretty similar to guitar, but the way you actually play it’s a little different,” he starts. It seems like the actually playing it differently would qualify them for NOT being pretty similar.
“But there’s four strings on it, and not six. So keep that in mind. So, uh, then you’ve gotta remember that with guitar, you can strum all of em at once,” he strums them all, “but you only play one at a time with bass,” he plucks the top string.
You know Sam knows well what he’s talking about. There’s no reason for him to be so nervous, it’s like he’s worried he’ll ruin your chances of ever playing in the band if he’s a bad teacher, which, is probably true.
“So now I’m gonna see if I can help you figure out some different fingering.”
You raise your eyebrow.
“Yeah. I know, there’s a lot of weird terms,” he ducks under the strap when he takes the guitar off his back and hands it yo you. It’s heavier than you’d expected, and it’s hard to find a way to hold it that mimics his posture without feeling super uncomfortable.
Sam gets up from the bed and crouches down in front of you. “Oh, yeah, I need to teach you the positioning too,” he grabs onto each side of the guitar and holds it close to your waist. It’s closer than you’d think is ideal – and he’s closer than you’d thought he was going to be.
The tips of your ears grow hot and you already know you’re blushing.
“Hey, don’t be embarrassed, everybody’s gotta start somewhere,” Sam guesses the reason you’re red in the face.
“I know,” you take the easy explanation.
“So,” he takes ahold of your right arm and sets it over the body of the guitar, resting your fingers just below the strings, “this tends to be pretty comfortable for me, but if it’s not for you, just do whatever you want,” he tells you, “just try to keep, um, the body as close to your, uh, torso as you can, okay?”
You press the back of the guitar against your stomach. You have to lean over a little bit to see the lines and dots on the top half of it, but it works. “No, yeah, this is fine,” your voice squeaks, as the heat in your face refuses to go.
“Okay, then you’re gonna wanna take,” he holds onto your left hand and shapes it around the strings on the top o the guitar, “this hand around the fretboard. So this would be called the neck, and everybody kinda likes different shaped ones,” he pauses.
“That’s what she said,” you whisper.
It’s either Sam didn’t hear you, which it looks like he did, by the face he makes, or he’s too nervous to come up with a quipy response.
“So I like this one because its really round, so I can fan out my hands really easily, but, like, it really has to do a lot with your actual hands,” he seems to forget where he’s going, “anyways, it’s already tuned to the standard tuning, E, A, D, G, B, E,” you already know you’re going to forget it, “but bass doesn’t have B and E, the bottom string which is the highest ones.”
You nod, unsure of how to express only partial understanding.
Only now, does Sam look up at you from his place crouched down on the floor. He’s got a sheepish grin on his face and those big, excited eyes of his. You never could’ve expected how happy it makes him to get to teach you something.
He doesn’t take his hand off yours, but shifts his attention to it as he starts to meticulously put each finger in its place on the strings.
The whole world seems to slow as you zone in on the little touch. Sam’s hands are warm, and his mannerism is light, and shaky. He’s adorably unsure of what he’s doing.
“Okay,” he draws out the word when he’s satisfied, “so you’re gonna need to press down, really hard on the strings, and just do a strum.”
You do, and half of the strings sound like they’re muted.
“Yeah, um, I’m really sorry about that, but you’ve gotta press down really hard.”
You press so hard it feels like your fingers are going to slice open and this time, the sound is actually… good?
“Nice job,” Sam smiles up at you and his gaze lingers just a second, “So that’s a C chord, pretty simple. Does it feel comfortable?”
“Not really…” you admit, noticing the way you’re flushed so deep that your hands are red.
“Yeah… I thought so,” he looks around, “there’s not a ton you can do to to help, just practicing, I guess, but uh, that’s a chord for ya.”
“Okay,” you wait for him to give you further instruction.
“So, uh, how about we move on to the bass stuff,” he clears his throat with what looks like a painfully hard swallow.
“Sure,” you feel his hands back on yours again and your heart rate picks up.
“Y’know,” Sam doesn’t break eye contact and it makes you tense further, “You’re pretty cute when y’re flustered...”
You open your mouth to reply but all that comes out is a startled ‘um.’
“I mean! Um-” Sam looks away only now and it looks like even he didn’t expect to say that, “try not to get like that in front of the crowds, yeah?”