I plop down next to him, tucking my legs under me. “You remember that Liz Phair song? From that movie soundtrack?”
“Of course I do.” He starts tuning the guitar, already humming the opening chords like it’s second nature. I watch his fingers glide across the strings, smooth and effortless, and my chest tightens.
God, he’s so good. Good in a way that makes my heart ache, because how is he real and how am I supposed to just... sit here pretending I’m not falling for him?
When he strums the first few lines, I hum along under my breath. But then—maybe because I’m nervous, maybe because I’ve had too much caffeine—I get an idea. A stupid one.
I grab a chair, drag it into the center of the room, and step up on it dramatically. “Hold on. You think you’re the only rockstar here?”
Vincent laughs, pausing mid-chord. “Oh, I know that look. I’m ready.”
I clear my throat, toss my hair like I’m on stage at Madison Square Garden, and belt out,“Ooh, I'm overdue. Give me some room, I'm comin' through
Paid my dues, in the mood. Me and my girls come to shake the room!”in my best Christina Aguilera impression. Complete with hand choreography.
He nearly drops his guitar, cracking up so hard he doubles forward. He grins, staring at me from head to toe. “You’re gonna get us kicked out, Marshall.”
I wag a finger like a diva. “They can’t kick out the headliner.”
“I thought I was the headliner?”
I grin. “You’rethe opening act. I’m the headliner.”
“You mean you’re Christina, and I’m just... what, your background guitarist?” he teases, shaking his head.
“Exactly.” I strike a pose on the chair, hands on my hips. “You should be honored.”
“Honored, huh?” He grins, strumming a dramatic riff to match my fake performance. “Fine. But don’t blame me when the janitor walks in and sees you giving a full Aguilera concert.”
I hop off the chair with a laugh and flop down beside him again, out of breath from laughing so hard. He shakes his head, eyes still dancing with amusement, but the way he looks at me—like I’m the best kind of trouble—makes my stomach flip.
“Christina Aguilera, huh?” he says softly, plucking a gentle chord. “I guess I should be grateful you didn’t bring boxing gloves. But I’d love to see you recreate the whole music video choreography,” he adds with a mischievous grin, eyes sparkling with challenge.
I gape at him. “Oh,please. You wouldn’t survive two seconds of that choreography.”
He tilts his head, pretending to be offended. “Excuse me? I have rhythm. I’ve got... moves.” He wiggles his shoulders in the most awkward attempt at dancing I’ve ever seen, which makes me burst out laughing so hard my stomach hurts.
“Moves? That looked like you were being electrocuted,” I manage between laughs.
Vincent smirks, leaning a little closer, lowering his voice. “Fine. Maybe I can’t pull off the leather pants and cage dancing... but I’dstilllook good standing next to you while you do.”
My cheeks heat immediately, and I swat his arm with the back of my hand. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love it,” he shoots back, smug, strumming a playful chord on his guitar like it’s a drumroll punctuating his point.
I try to roll my eyes, but I’m smiling too much to sell it. “Careful, Cooper. One of these days I’m actually going to make you learn the whole routine, just to see you eat your words.”
He grins wider. “Then I’ll do it—only if you promise to be my Christina.”
I smack his arm, still giggling. “Shut up and play the Liz Phair song.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He winks, and this time when he plays, his voice joins the music, warm and steady.
“Can you imagine if one day you actually met a Christina Aguilera lookalike?” he teases, eyes glinting with mischief. “That would be almost as good. At least half your dream of being her best friend would come true.”
I let out a mock gasp. “Halfmy dream? Excuse me, but being Christina’s best friend isn’t a dream—it’s a life goal. And if it ever happens, you’re going to be the first one I ditch.”
Vincent clutches at his chest in fake betrayal. “Cold. Absolutely ruthless. Here I am, offering my humble guitar skills to back up your future pop stardom, and you’re just—throwing me under the tour bus.”
