“Aye.” He leans forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. “My folks are from Belfast. Makes my lilt come and go, or so I’ve been told.”
I relax before I mean to. “I hear it. It suits you.”
“So, Linus.” His smile is small but real. “Why are you in Pullman?”
“To study entertainment and hospitality.”
He nods like it’s important. “You into music?”
“Sure. I worked for a talent booking company in Dublin. Logistics mostly.”
His eyebrows rise. “You serious? Proper gigs and everything?”
“Depends on your definition of proper.”
My chest loosens when he laughs.
“So you already know about Fireball.” He pushes loose hair off his face.
“Everyoneknows Fireball.”
He looks pleased when I mention his band, like he isn’t used to hearing praise yet but wants to be. “We’re still figurin’ things out. Got a new singer who’s a pain in the ass, but it’s my dream.”
“You’re good,” I say before I can chicken out. “I’ve heard you.”
His eyes sharpen. “Where?”
“On the radio. Saw you at a house party…” I trail off, mortified.
He grins wider. “You’ve been doing recon.”
“No, I—”
“It’s fine.” He palms my thigh. “I’d watch me too.”
I chokeon a laugh.
He shifts slightly so his knee brushes mine. The contact is small, fleeting. Enough to jolt something low in my stomach.
“You seein’ anyone?” He leans closer.
“No,” I answer, too quickly.
“You want to be?”
I swallow. “Maybe.”
His smile fades into something softer. Careful. Curious. “Who? Lotsa pretty girls around.”
This feels like a cliff I’ve been inching toward for months. Adrenaline pumping, I force myself to look him in the eyes.
“Aye, but I came tonight hoping you’d be here.”
His gaze lowers, not to my mouth. To the space between us, like he’s imagining it gone.
“That so?” His thumb strokes my thigh.
I nod. “Yeah.”
