The Guitar, the Invitation, and the Unlikely Cure

Tine’s heart plummeted. “Please. I’ll do anything.”

That’s when they saw him. Sarawat. He sat alone at the edge of the courtyard, earbuds in, a black guitar case leaning against his chair like a silent bodyguard. He was rumored to be cold, unapproachable, and devastatingly handsome. He was also the one person Green seemed to fear. Rumor had it Green had once tried to give Sarawat a rose, and Sarawat had simply looked at it, then at Green, and walked away.

“Hey,” Tine said, his voice cracking on the single syllable. “You’re Sarawat, right?”

“Yes. Exactly. It’s just acting.”