Then she scoffs, shaking her head.“Absolutely not.”
I let out a dramatic sigh, plucking at the strings.“That was fast.Didn’t even think about it.”
“Ididthink about it,” she counters.“For half a second.And then I dismissed it.Because it’s a terrible idea.”
“Why?”
She blinks, like she wasn’t expecting me to ask.“Because,” she says after a beat.“Because I have other plans.”
I arch a brow.“Yeah?What plans?”
“My own.”
I grin.“That sounds fake.”
She leans back into the couch cushions, dropping her gaze to her phone like she’s bored.“It’s not.”
I strum a slow, lazy chord.“If you say so.”
She actually snorts through her nose like a bull.“I do.”
I nod, pretending to accept that, even though I know—I know—she’s thinking about it now.The flicker of hesitation, the way she shifted her weight, the way she refused to meet my eyes for just a second too long.
I mean, she’s not coming.
But she kindawantsto.
I tap my fingers against the body of my guitar, studying her.“We’re good enough at this.I don’t think we need to run through it again.Instead, you want to tell me why you’re so against seeing me perform?”
She lets out a sharp laugh.“Oh my god, Joel.”
“What?”
She throws her hands in the air.“Because—because it’s weird, okay?”
Okay, wasn’t expecting that.
I tilt my head.“Weird how?”
She opens her mouth.Closes it.Her hands hover for a second before she drops them back to her sides.“I’m not doing this with you.”
I shoot her a half smile.“Sounds like you already are.”
She groans, dragging a hand down her face.“You are so?—”
“Charming?Persuasive?”I offer.
“Infuriating.Frustrating.Obnoxious.”
“That too.”I beam at her.
She exhales, long and slow.“Let’s just focus on the music, please.”
I bite back my grin and nod.“Whatever you say, Ace.”
But as she turns her attention back to the setlist, shifting her focus with a little more force than necessary, I catch it—the faintest trace of a smile tugging at her lips.
God, if it doesn’t make my heart flip a little bit.