I fight to hold on but it’s all quicksand.
“Sophie,” I growl. “Stop it. You’re making a fool out of yourself.”
She just keeps singing, “Maybe that’s what this kiss was meant to do?”
“Sophie, this isn’t helping anything.” She clearly can’t see how ridiculous this looks. Unless she does see . . . but doesn’t care.
Maybe that’s the point?
Maybe she’s purposely embarrassing herself to make a point. My brows lower, and I tune into her not-melodic lyrics.
Force us both to change.
Do you need some more apologies?
I'm sorry I made you feel less than the amazing person you are
But most of all, I'm sorry for not kissing you more when I had the chance, because I really like kissing yooooou.
The women in the crowd start to chant, “Kiss her,” and I’m frozen. Sophie keeps singing these terrible lyrics and putting herself out there in the most public way, and she wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t want to. If it didn’t mean something to her.
All I can do is apologize and hope that one day you'll forgive me.
So, kiss me again.
I can make up verses all night. It’s in your best interest to kiss me now.
It’s only going to get worse.
She’s right about her song getting worse!
She’s not even singing on key. It’s as if she wants to humble herself, but as ridiculous as this is, she looks beautiful. Her hair is long and straight and falls in front of one shoulder as she leans over and strums her guitar.
My gaze slides to the owner’s box, and Bill and Mike are getting a front-row seat to all of this.
Figures.
It’s hopeless.
I’m sure she’s already destroyed any chances of me getting signed by now.
The crowd chants louder, “Kiss her,” and I’m doomed.
At this point, kissing her seems to be the only way she’ll ever stop singing.
If I hadn’t lived through these last couple of weeks, I wouldn’t believe any of the events could even be possible—that I could fall for someone from just one kiss.
And here she is, fighting for another chance and willing to risk total humiliation. I’m not a monster. She’s only human.
And just like that, I melt.
All the tense energy falls from my head and is replaced with a pooling in my heart. Tears prick the back of my eyes, and I can’t believe how close I came to screwing this up and missing it completely. Before I talk myself out of it—and before Sophie can make up an even worse verse—I skate to the exit and walk to meet her.
Her hand freezes mid-strum, and her gorgeous green eyes hover on mine. “Can we just start over?” Her plea tumbles out, and she’s not even trying to be discreet.
“We can’t start over.” My rasp is quick and assertive, and I don’t wait for permission as I lean in and wrap my arms around her waist, digging my fingers lightly into the small of her back. “Remember. I meant what I said. The whole thing has changed, and there’s no going back.”
Her breath audibly hitches, like she’s holding back a hiccup. I raise my hand, cupping her cheek. Her eyelids lower, hooding her eyes, and I curl my toes in anticipation. My fingers sprawl out to tickle just below her ear, and I tip her chin up until our lips brush together, and we bothconfirmeverything has changed.
