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I clicked the link, biting my bottom lip anxiously.
There he was, on stage with his band, smiling in a black sleeveless tee and ripped jeans, his black guitar slung in front of him. The woman filming had clearly been in the front row, and as soon he’d stepped towards the mic to start the next song, she’d zoomed right in on him.
And then his lips…
And back out.
I sat there, transfixed as the man I’d just had pizza with commanded the stage.
I let the video play, and go into the next, and then the next…
“What are you watching so intently?”
I jumped, clutching the phone to my chest, thankful I still had the earbud in as the strains of the song kept playing. I gasped for a breath, praying it wouldn’t fall out and the music would fill the room. “Nothing, really…”
I wished I could clear the screen with a swipe of my finger, but I didn’t trust myself to do it blindly or not click on some thirsty fan-made video that would make this moment even more awkward. I mean, the woman who’d filmed it had zoomed in on his lips…and other attributes several times, each and every song—almost a trademark at this point, six songs in.
“Right. Tracking Santa?”
“Exactly.”
“He leave the north pole yet?”
“Still a few days away.”
“No trial runs?”
“Not that they’re saying.”
He leaned in the doorway in amusement. I almost thought he knew. How awful. My poor little heart rate.
“So…” he drawled, looking way too comfy where he stood, like he wasn’t planning on leaving any time soon.
“So…” I parroted. The song in my ear repeated…shit. I’d hit repeat inadvertently somehow. I pressed my lips together hoping it would calm my anxious heart rate.
“What are you watching, Miss Goodwin?”
“Just random videos to pass the time.”
“Anything good?”
“It’s okay…”
“Cute dog video?”
“Uhm, not quite.”
“You know I could kinda hear you humming.”
“What?”
“You. Were. Humming.” He paused between each word.
“I was not.”
“Okay, so it’s not my cover of ‘If I Had You’ you’re listening to.”
I shook my head.
