‘Good,’ he replies, pursing his lips in a bit of a smirk. ‘I could have some news to share at some point.’
‘What?’ I press.
He glances at me. ‘I don’t want to jinx it.’
‘Shut up, just tell me.’
‘Have you heard of Brit Easton?’
The beautiful pop star with dark corkscrew curls and brilliant green eyes?
I stare at him, my eyes growing round. ‘Are you kidding?’
‘Well, ifyou’veheard of her, she must be big,’ he says facetiously.
‘I’ve got two of her songs on my playlist,’ I tell him, shoving his arm.
‘Yourplaylistplaylist?’
‘Finn!’ I ignore his teasing. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Jessie, the lead singer of All Hype – the band we went on tour with – passed my solo album on to her, thought it was something she might like. Brit reached out a couple of months ago and asked if I’d be up for meeting. I think we kind of hit it off.’ He shrugs. ‘I recorded the album because I thought it might help me to go down more of a songwriter route, so, yeah, it’s pretty cool.’ He hesitates. ‘She says she’d like to put out a cover of “We Could Be Giants”.’
‘No way! I love that song!’
‘Thanks.’ He squeezes my thigh under the table again, his fingers sliding further down to tuck beneath my knees. ‘I mean, I’ll believe it when she signs on the dotted line, but she seems kinda keen.’
Brit Easton is a pop artist, whereas Finn has more of a rock background. His solo stuff, however, falls somewhere in between. I could imagine Brit putting her twist on it.
‘She also said that maybe we should write together,’ he adds casually.
‘Shut. Up.’
This ismajornews.
‘Like I say, I’ll believe it when it happens.’
‘So you liked her? When you met?’
‘Yeah, she was nice,’ he says diffidently.
‘She wasn’t a diva?’
He groans. ‘Don’t believe everything you read on social media. Just because someone knows what they want and howto go about getting it doesn’t make them a diva. You should see her in a room, directing an orchestra. She’s ridiculously talented.’
His passionate rant makes me uneasy.
‘Should I be worried?’ I ask, trying to sound jokey but probably coming off as needy.
‘No,’ he scoffs lightly.
‘How many times have you met her?’
‘A few.’
I am definitely worried. It sounds as though he might like and admire her on a scale that’s potentially even more personal than professional.
‘Brilliant,’ he says with a grin, his eyes on the dance floor. ‘Michael and Timothy are going for it.’
