He glances up like he’s just now registering it, then back at me. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing’s wrong with it,” I say, still smiling. “I didn’t make you out to be a fan of the song ‘Clean.’”
He doesn’t look offended. If anything, he looks curious. “Why?”
Before I can answer, he tugs gently on my hand, pulling me closer. My balance wobbles for half a second before I instinctively step in, and suddenly, there’s not much space between us at all.
And I’m more than okay with it.
He’s skating backward now, one hand still wrapped around mine, the other hovering near my waist like he’s ready to catch me if I decide to ruin both our lives by falling.
Which, frankly, feels likely.
“Come on,” he says, softer this time. “Why do you like it? Tell me.”
I swallow, trying very hard to focus on the question and not the fact that I can feel the heat of him even in a cavernous room made to be cold.
“Where do I start?” I glance up, then away, then back again. “I like the symbolism of it, I guess. Starting over. Letting things go. The whole…being clean of something that held you back.”
He watches me with keen interest, hanging on to my every word, like he’s filing that away somewhere.
“And,” I add quickly, because I refuse to get too earnest about this, “it’s Taylor. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” he echoes, a hint of a smile pulling at his mouth.
We glide a little farther, slower now, more controlled. Or maybe I’m just getting used to it.
Or maybe it’s him.
“Well, I like it,” he says after a beat. “It’s one of my favorite songs.”
“One of your favorites?” I repeat, because that feels like information I should have had sooner.
He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Yeah.”
I squint in his direction. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told.”
There’s a quiet beat between us, the music filling the space. I could get used to this. To him.
“And the restaurant?” he adds, almost casually, his voice low. “The one that makes those amazing crabcake sandwiches, where I saw you that time.”
“The one that has that playlist/Netflix/social media situation?” I frown slightly, trying to track where he’s going with that. “What about it?”
He tilts his head, studying me in that way that makes me feel like I’m missing something obvious.
“I figured you out. I saw your requests, Jewelsy.”
I turn to face him, ready to look shocked on principle alone, but it fizzles out before it gets there. Because honestly? If you know me, then my username isn’t exactly subtle.
“If I wanted to hide, I guess I should have picked something non-industry related, huh?”
“I liked your songs. You picked ones I listen to,” he says, guiding me through a small turn and keeping me steady without making a big deal of it. “On repeat, even.”
“I like that we have things in common.” I arch a brow. “Who would have thought?”
His gaze drops to my mouth for half a second before lifting again.
