27
Off-Key
They played a four-minute song, but it didn’t feel like forever. My heart thrummed with the beat. Once I got the hang of it, I sang the chorus with them off-key. Zack chuckled and shook his head at me. Surprisingly, the band stuck to their promise of a shortened set.
Lumberjack Lance fist-bumped Zack and left, but the drummer shook my hand before skipping up the stairs.
Zack tugged his earlobe and meandered over to me. “Are you heading out too or…?”
“I can stay.” It’d be weird if I left right away. Girlfriends would want some solo time with their man.
“Have fun you two,” the drummer jeered, following Lumberjack up the steps.
Zack flushed and waited until the door clicked closed behind them to speak. “So, did you get the footage you needed?”
Footage… Right, this was a content thing. I had recorded a few snippets of the band, mostly so I could do something besides smile and bob my head while they played.
I patted the spot next to me. “Want to see?”
“Sure.” He flopped down and flinched. “Your jacket just stabbed me.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re such a baby.” I wrangled my jacket off and shivered. “Happy?”
“I don’t want you to be cold,” he said.
“We’re in a basement in winter. Now, look at these.” I scooted closer to him and played the clips.
He laid his arm on the back of the couch, engulfing me in the scent of old spice and sweat. Heat radiated through his clothes and my shaking bones.Damn. No wonder he was fine sleeping down here in a subzero dungeon.
The camera panned Zack's body.
He snorted. “Are you objectifying me?”
I leaned away. “No. I got a shot of everybody.”
“Okay, where are their lower halves?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never done a real music video.”
Theo’s attempts to get footage of hot girls dancing at parties didn’t count as gigs to me.
Zack smirked. “That's actually something a girlfriend might do.”
My heart raced, and my fingers danced across the screen. “So, should I post that clip? It’s not PDA, and you do look good in it.”
Not that he didn’t look good in general, but I knew the right angles to make anyone look extra fabulous. Although, then other people might start thirsting after him…
His thumb grazed my bare shoulder. “Post the part where you sang along.”
“What?” I laughed. “No. It’s so bad.”
“It’s cute.” He dragged the playback cursor to that scene.
Cute? More like cringe. My voice rang through the speakers, totally off-key. I wasn’t on camera, but I did sound happy. I sangthe wrong lyrics with confidence while my free hand pumped to the beat.
On film, he grinned and paced, probably laughing his ass off at me, as would our audience. His blush was kind of cute, not my singing. Maybe that’s what he meant.
I frowned. “What would I caption this? ‘How does he put up with me?’”
