Page 62 of Paint the Town, Dove

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All that mattered was me.

[For once.]

It’s a beautiful thing to lose yourself in existence.

While Emory spoke in hushed whispers, Scarlett only stared.

I felt the heat of her gaze, as if lost in a trance. I caught her eyes, fingers fumbling.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, regaining composure.

She snickered. “Butter fingers don’t make billions.”

“Hey,” Emory hit her arm, “he’s just nervous.”

I swallowed as our glances caught once again. Only this time we both looked away, releasing the moment.

Was I nervous? Nah, no way. I never got nervous around her…

But –

I never mess up a note either.

What was I doing?

Trying to impress Emory?

…Or trying to impress her?

Was I trying to show her I could do it?

That maybe… Maybe she was right about me.

Maybe I could be a rock star.

Maybe it was my destiny.

Before long, I stopped playing, as if the pads of my fingers knew when to ease the break, signifying the end of the song.

I exhaled a breath, patting Harley before chancing a look at the girls.

They both wore different expressions.

Emory’s eyes were glossy, wide like a baby deer. She clapped continuously, “Brava, brava!” she exclaimed.

Then… then there was Scarlett.

Arms crossed, alwaysprotecting herself, keeping her feelings in.

If you didn’t know her, you’d think she was severely unimpressed.

But me –us, we were different together.

I didn’t miss the curve of her lip, a small smile forcing its way out of her, the softness of her brows lowering in admiration. A container of awe bursting at the seams, struggling to come out – but it was visible to me.

“You play…” she sucked in a breath, “well.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, setting Harley aside. “Yeah?”

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