Page 51 of Selling Out
But this umbrella was made for a child, not two grown adults—especially when one of them can make a living ripping off his shirt.
“I saw your YouTube videos,” I say, snatching at anything to reign in my wandering mind.
He frowns. He has no clue what I’m talking about.
Right. There are thousands of videos of him on YouTube.
“Songstrider842?” I offer.
His brows pull tighter together, then recognition lights his eyes. “That channel’s still up?”
“Very much still up.” As in, currently up on my laptopandmy YouTube app on my phone. If my purse thief figures out how to unlock my phone and decides he might as well blackmail me while he’s at his criminal mischief, my YouTube history will give him some great ammo.
Austin frowns. “Does it have a lot of views or subscribers?”
“I mean, personally, I’d be thrilled with those numbers.”
He laughs softly, but his brow is still pinched.
“What?” Does he really hate those videos so much? I don’t get that at all.
“Nothing. Just trying to remember my password.”
“Because…”
“To deactivate it.”
“What? Why?”
“Fusion wouldn’t like those videos being up.”
“So?”
“So, I’m in a really strict contract. The songs don’t even belong to me anymore.”
Now I’m the one frowning as Giuseppe ducks, and we pass under a short bridge.
“I don’t get it,” I say. “If that’s true, why haven’t they released any of them?”
“They don’t fit the brand.” There’s a touch of bitterness to the words.
“They’re amazing songs, though.”
His eyes fix on mine like he’s trying to gauge how sincere I am.
“At the risk of sounding rude,” I say, “I had no idea you had such an amazing voice… or such a talent with words.”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “Thanks.”
I nod, and our gazes hold, along with my breath.
Austin’s hand shifts next to mine, and his eyes flit down toour hands, then back to my face. Maybe it’s because my rebellious side doesn’t like being told what to do, but now that we’ve agreed on being just friends, I find my eyes wandering to his lips.
Aboommakes us both jump, and Giuseppe grins as he puts out both hands like a showman. “The fireworks have begun.”
And the rain has stopped. I collapse the umbrella, my heart still going haywire.
There’s anotherboom,and above the rooftops, a fountain of neon red sprays across the darkening sky.
