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“S-step six. Hand to waist,” Blondie said, her face flushed and chest heaving.
My roommate was the fucking man. He was getting a girl all hot and bothered by just asking her questions. Fuck, the two of them were making me horny just from listening to his questions.
“And then?” Hamilton leaned in as if he was going to slip his arm around her waist.
Blondie closed her eyes. “Mouth to mouth,” she said.
Shit. I had to stop them. Now.
“Hey, is that Cora headed this way?”
Hamilton lifted glassy eyes and looked around, but he didn’t spot his girlfriend anywhere. “I don’t see her. Oh, wait. There she is; dancing with that guy.”
“Hmm,” I said. “Could’ve sworn that was her coming this way and waving, trying to get your attention. Sorry.”
Blondie opened her eyes and met my gaze. With a blush, she straightened in her seat and made a production of smoothing down her shirt and trying not to look guilty.
I tapped my fingers on top of the table and kind of regretted interrupting their moment, even though I know they’d both thank me for it...if either of them knew what I’d just saved them from.
“Seriously,” I muttered when the next singer started on “My Girl.” I motioned toward my roommate. “Ham, you sound better than that in the shower every morning. Get up there and sing so all those other losers who can’t hold a tune don’t get a turn.”
Blondie turned curiously toward him, her lips twitching with a smile. “Do you really sing in the shower?”
“No!” His face turned red before he rolled his eyes and mumbled, “A little.”
“A little every fucking morning,” I taunted.
“Aww,” Blondie cooed, touching his arm. “That’s so cute.”
Ham glanced at her, then quickly ripped his gaze away. “I used to stutter when I was younger. My grandma took me to singing classes to help with it.”
What? “I had no idea you used to stutter,” I said just as an equally surprised Blondie said, “I’ve never heard you stutter.”
“Yeah, well.” He rolled his eyes. “The singing actually helped. A lot.”
Blondie squeezed his bicep. “So, you’ll sing now. Pretty please.”
He laughed, and a blush tinted his cheeks. “Heck, no.”
“I’ll sing with you,” she offered, batting her eyelashes and making Ham fall into another one of those staring trances she was so good at putting him under.
I lifted my eyebrows. “You’ll sing?” I asked. “Do you sing in the shower too, Blondie?”
She shrugged. “No, but I’m just drunk enough to try anything right now.”
Oh, that was it. “Do it, Ham,” I urged.
I had no clue what was emboldening him, but he grabbed her hand and surged to his feet. “Okay, we’re doing it, then. As long as you’ll really sing with me.”
She nodded. “I said I would.”
As she followed him toward the stage, I folded my arms over my chest and sat back in my chair, ready to enjoy this show. I even pulled out my phone to take a video for future blackmail against Hamilton.
Once the man before them wrapped up his song—thank fucking God—Ham and Blondie stepped onto the stage. I wolf-whistled, making Blondie glance my way and blush. Then she grabbed Hamilton’s hand and they stepped in front of the mic together.
As the beginning chords started, she leaned in and called, “Cora! This one’s for you.”
I frowned. That bitch shouldn’t have had any part of their song. But from across the room, Cora turned and gaped up at the stage where her boyfriend and roommate were standing together and swaying lightly to the beginning chords. Then Hamilton leaned in and started singing. And shit, he was good. Really good.
