“Is that right?” I arch my brows as I step toward him.
It’s way too easy to play along with him. To avoid asking for what I want. For what I need. But right now, what I need is not sexual innuendo, but reassurance. Reassurance that this song is good. Great even.
But I’m still not ready to let him in fully.
Sure, he’s already been inside me, but that’s what I always do. I let guys into my ass before I think about letting them into my heart.
It’s easier to dance around the edges. To speak in metaphors than ask outright.
“And what do you think this muse would sing back if it were a duet?” I’m keen to get inside his mind, to know his thoughts. Especially since I’ve exposed myself through these lyrics.
“Well… I guess they would be flattered and might feel the same way.” The right corner of his mouth lifts into a semi-smile.
Might.
Mightfeel the same way?
Does that mean he might not?
Is he only interested in hooking up with me?
Is he just using me to say he hooked up with a celebrity?
I catch myself before I go too far down the rabbit hole. I take a deep breath, and follow it up with a long exhale.
“And how do you reckon the muse would move frommaybefeeling the same way, toactuallyfeeling the same?” I ask.
Christopher stares at me, as if mulling over his choice of words. I’ve noticed his ability to stop and form his thoughts before expressing them. It’s a trait I’m beginning to envy.
“I guess he’d continue to do what he’s already doing, and maybe move from something that’s been mainly physical to something more intimate.” He rubs the back of his neck, shifting his weight from his left leg to his right.
“Intimate?” A flicker of irritation rises in me.
“There’s still so much I don’t know about you. That we don’t know about each other,” he says. His hazel eyes study me with an intensity that makes me reach for my watch. “The questions you asked in bed earlier didn’t offer much insight, and I didn’t really get to ask you anything.”
Gone is his usual sarcasm. It’s replaced instead by vulnerability.
I lower my head as I continue fiddling with my watch.
He’s right.
The blue doors swing open and Nathan walks through, drink in hand. He reaches out to hand it to me.
“Thanks, Nathan.” I say, grabbing it, as he looks at Christopher.
I’m unable to move quickly enough. I take a gulp to pushaway all my feelings. The alcohol burns my throat as it goes down, forcing me to cough out loud.
“Wrong hole,” I say, trying to deflect the concern on Nathan’s face.
“I can go get more Manuka honey if you need.” He reaches for the door.
“You’re good. I should probably just sip it.”
Nathan looks at his watch, then back to me.
“Right. Well, better get back upstairs. We’re running tight on time.” Nathan taps his watch and makes his way back out, leaving me to turn my attention back to Christopher.
“Maybe the artiste would be open to being more intimate tonight?” Christopher asks, as Freddy calls me back to resume recording.
