Somehow that contrast only makes him more compelling.
The low chatter that drifted between songs earlier vanishes entirely. Everyone else in the room seems just as captivated, and we’re all drawn into the quiet spell he’s weaving. His earlier nerves have melted away, and he’s lost in the music now, with his eyes half-closed and his body swaying as though the melody is the only thing anchoring him to the world.
He sings like it’s the only language he’s ever truly spoken.
When the final note fades, there’s a suspended beat of silence that lasts long enough for my heartbeat to feel loud in my ears. But then the applause erupts, louder and warmer than anything we’ve heard all night. He blinks as if it startles him back to reality,then flashes a lopsided smile at the crowd as he stands and drags his palm down the leg of his jeans.
“Y’all are better listeners than the chickens,” he says, drawing another ripple of laughter from the room. He lifts one hand in an awkward wave, then shuffles off the stage, guitar still slung over his shoulder. He looks a little dazed, like he’s not quite sure the room is real yet, and I can’t stop watching him move through the crowd.
A new performer starts setting up, and I take the opening as everyone’s attention turns back to the stage. “Excuse me,” I mutter to Tyler as I push out of the booth, weaving through chairs and bodies.
The singer is kneeling to tuck the guitar back into a case absolutely covered in stickers. I recognize most of the bands immediately, because the same ones are tacked up on my bedroom wall back home.
“Hey,” I say, keeping my voice low enough not to startle him.
He glances up, hazel eyes bright from the lights and cheeks faintly flushed. Up close he’s even more handsome, even if he does look like he belongs on a football field rather than under these moody Edison bulbs. He snaps the case closed, then stands with a wary nod.
“Hey.” His voice is softer off-mic, and a little rough from singing. “You’re not here to tell me the chickens would’ve sung it better, are you?”
I huff a quiet laugh at how unexpectedly charming he is. “No chance. That was great…reallygreat, actually. The way you held back in the verses and then let it build in the chorus? It pulled the whole room in. Felt honest.”
He ducks his head for a second, rubbing the back of his neck with one callused hand. “Thanks. I was convinced I’d choke halfway through. Guess I didn’t.” He studies me for a beat. “You play?”
“Yeah. Mostly piano and drums. Keys when I want to feel it, sticks when I need to burn off energy.” I shrug, gesturing toward the stage. “Don’t ask me to sing though. You wanna talk farm animal comparisons, I’m sure that would raise a few.”
He nods toward the current performer. “Not getting up there, then?”
“Nah, I came here to listen. You made it worth the trip.”
He bites his lip to try to hide his smile, and that flush on his cheeks deepens. He’s clearly unaccustomed to the commentary on his voice, which is shocking with how much talent he has.
“I’m Dmitri,” I offer.
“Eric.” He extends a hand, and I accept it. His fingers are rough in the same places as mine, with musician’s callouses on his fingertips and palms. “I just gotto town this week, and I don’t know anyone. This was my attempt at putting myself out there, I guess.”
“Yeah, I just moved here, too. My roommate insisted this was the place to be tonight.” I give him another smile to test the water. “Looks like he was right about that.”
He chuckles as he gestures vaguely behind him. “Sounds like my new roommate is sharing wavelengths with yours. He set me up with a friend of his tonight, and once she learned I could sing, she insisted on coming here.”
The “she” lands casually, and the way he says it tells me what I need to know.
Straight, or at least not available in the way I’d let myself hope for half a second. The little spark in my chest flickers once and settles into something platonic.
That’s okay.
The guy just played a set that made the room go quiet, and he seems sweet. I’d still want to talk to him about music even if that’s all it ever is.
“Smart roommate,” I say evenly, not allowing the disappointment to shift my tone. “If you ever want another set of ears, guitar and keys can make some interesting layers. Or drums if you’re feeling rhythm-heavy. No pressure, just an open invite.”
Eric’s face brightens a touch, like the idea actually lands. “Yeah? That could be cool. I’ve got some stuff I’m working on, but it’s hard to tell if it’s actually good without someone else hearing it.”
“If it was anything like that powerhouse you just performed, I think you’re good.” He flushes and glances down, and I peek over my shoulder to where Tyler is watching us with open curiosity. I roll my eyes, then turn back to Eric. “Outside perspective is gold, though, and I’d be happy to give it. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you’re at UNC?”
“Yeah,” he says with another smile. “Freshman.”
“Same.”
“Guess we have to stick with the coffee houses for a few more years before we hit up the bars,” he teases, before gesturing up my frame. “Though I would’ve guessed you were older.”
