“I have an idea.” Landon stands from the couch, and before I question him, he goes upstairs and comes back in a flash with his guitar. “Cover the kid’s ears,” he instructs. I stare at him, confused, but cover them regardless. “Why do you—” “If any of you dumb fucks record me or make a single comment, I will make your pitiful lives miserable for the rest of the year. And do not fucking test me.” His eyes bounce between all of us, making sure we understand that it’s not a threat but a promise.
he plays the guitar??? wtf i want him
