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My hand flies to my chest, covering my rapidly beating heart. I don’t remember the last time somebody other than my sister heard me sing. Years probably. But I just couldn’t do it. Singing was something private, something I did for myself.
And now he heard it.
Sebastian-freaking-Black.
Two-time Grammy winner.
He’s one of the biggest rock stars in the country, if not the planet, and he’s barely twenty-three.
And my teenage crush.
He’s also the dumbass who bumped into you and made you fall, then left without apologizing,a little voice points out.
As if I needed to be reminded. I swear I could still feel the heat of his hands as they covered my body and the shivers running under my skin where he touched me.
A floorboard creaks on the right, snapping me out of my thoughts and reminding me I’m not alone. I listen to his heavy footsteps as he moves closer, the hairs at my nape rising with each step he takes.
Four.
Five.
Si—
“Cat got your tongue, Birdy?” he asks, this time closer, and now I’m one hundred percent sure I was right.
It’s him.
Sebastian Black is here.
In this room. At Blairwood.
Although it makes no sense why he’s here.
My tongue darts out, sliding over my dry lips as I curl my fingers around the bench, trying to stay still. “I don’t remember hearing a question.”
He lets out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “Touché, Birdy. Touché.”
I turn to him, using the sound of his voice to orientate myself and narrow my eyes at him. “Will you stop calling me that?”
His footsteps slow, and I can feel my stomach tighten. “And why would I do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know? Because I have a name? Not that you bothered to ask for it.”
He lets out a small tsking sound. “I didn’t hear you asking for my name.”
That’s because I don’t need toaskfor your name.
I know your freaking name.
Is there anybody who doesn’t?
His music has been playing on the radio all over the world. I’m kind of angry at myself that I didn’t recognize him sooner.
Not that I vocalize my thoughts. Not only would it be embarrassing, but I also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that I knew exactly who he was. Give him the satisfaction of knowing I’ve been listening to his music and idolized him unlike any other person. Seriously, if Kate or Emmett were to find out about this, I’d never hear the end of it.
I lift my chin, giving him my best glare. “And yet you don’t hear me using some awful nickname instead.”
“It seems I’ve ruffled some feathers.”
