Cameron didn’t spare Theo a glance. Not one.
Instead, he leaned toward Sebastian, asking about songwriting, his tone warm enough to pull a half-smile from the quietest man at the table. He teased Julian about his glitter eyeliner, and Julian preened. He even coaxed Milo—Milo, of all people—into a dry back-and-forth about rock chord changes.
Theo sat frozen, his pen hovering, useless, above the page. His notes devolved into scratches, meaningless loops. He told himself it was good—better—that Cameron’s attention never strayed in Theo’s direction.
It’s safer that way.
But his gaze kept drifting, inexorably, to the breadth of Cameron’s shoulders, the curve of his grin, his eyes, his long legs under the table. Every flicker of his voice drew Theo like a hook tugging through his ribs.
Max, damn him, had gone quiet too. Watching. Measuring. Theo didn’t need to look to feel the smirk lurking there, theI see yougleam waiting to pounce.
Theo adjusted his posture, crossing and uncrossing his arms, trying to focus on the chaos of overlapping voices. ButCameron’s laugh cut through it every time, warm, playful, full-bodied in a way that belonged to a man who knew exactly what effect he was having.
Theo couldn’t look away. He couldn’t stop cataloguing every note of him, like some unwanted melody building in the back of his mind.
This is wrong. Unprofessional. Dangerous.
It was then that Theo realised he wasn’t listening to the group as a whole. He was listening for one voice.
And that, more than anything, terrified him.
“It was great meeting all of you,” Cameron announced. A chorus of agreement rippled around the table. Then Cameron leaned in close enough to be heard over the music. “Still all rules and routines, Theo? Or do you ever let yourself break curfew?”
Theo smirked thinly. “Someone has to keep order.”
“That someone doesn’t have to be you all the time,” Cameron countered, his eyes gleaming. “You’d look good out of order.”
Theo didn’t let the heat in his chest show. “Enjoy your night, Cameron.”
“Always do,” he said easily, then straightened. A moment later he’d vanished into the press of bodies.
Theo sat frozen for a moment, his jaw locked, his pulse skittering. The prospect of moving to London had seemed like a good idea, an exercise in logistics.
But if Cameron is here….
Now it tasted like danger.
Now Theo wasn’t sure what would happen if their paths should ever cross again.
Max had been right about the couch—it was pretty comfortable. He’d found Theo a couple of sheets, a pillow, and a blanket, then made him a cup of decaf tea before bed.
“Is there anything else you need?” Max leaned in the doorway with his mug.
“I’m good.”
Max chuckled. “You’re going to have trouble switching your brain off, aren’t you?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?” He’d hardly said a word on the way back from the bar.
“You’ve been chewing the same thought for an hour. I’d ask what, but I think it’s more a case ofwho.”
Theo flashed him a warning glance. “Drop it.”
Max smirked. “Can’t. His laugh put a dent in your control. That dark, wavy hair, those broad shoulders, those stunning eyes…”
“I said drop it,” Theo snapped, sharper than he meant.
“Ah.” Max’s grin widened. “Static explained.”
