Page 17 of Paint Our Song

“Yes, but our trainee’s freaking out.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“You don’t need to. It’s my job. So sorry, Calvin. I convinced you to come and now I’m fleeing. I’ll come back right away.”

“No worries, I want to head back, anyway.” Right after he says that, Calvin’s stare drifts over Miles’s shoulder and his mouth curls into a slight frown.

“What’s wrong?” Miles asks. He turns his head, and he spots the vocalist of the local band walking over to them.

“Hi,” she says to Calvin, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. She’s got a sweet voice, a huge contrast to how she sounded while singing. “I’m not sure if you remember me.”

“Jeanette,” Calvin says. “We played together last time I was in town.”

She beams. “I don’t mean to disturb you, but would you like to play again?”

Jeanette’s much more polite than the woman from earlier—Miles gives her that. Calvin’s eyes flicker at her.

“I’d love to, but I was actually about to go.”

“Oh!” Jeanette’s cheeks redden, and she takes a slight step back. “Yes! Yes, of course. Thank you.”

Just when it seems like that’s the end, there are squeals from behind her. The group of women from earlier are waving at Calvin. “C’mon, Calvin Lowe! One song before you go!”

“Don’t be a snob!” says a loud voice from the back.

There are several phones pointing in their direction now, and cheers from the small crowd. Calvin’s jaw twitches, and Jeanette looks apologetic, as if this all is her fault. Calvin closes his eyes and exhales. When he opens them again, he asks, “What song would you like to play?”

Jeaneatte apologizes, but is still grinning despite herself. At the same time, Gabby makes a move to leave, but not before leaning close to Miles and whispering, “Don’t leave until Calvin does. I’ll be back.”

“Wha—Gabby, I’m not a bodyguard,” he splutters.Neither are you.

Calvin has turned away and is talking to Jeanette. She asks if he’d like to play on the guitar.

“You need to make sure he’ll be able to leave,” Gabby hisses. “He’s our guest. We’re responsible for him.”

Okay. Turns out he’s staying, then. At least he’ll be able to watch Calvin play.

When the music starts, everything else goes silent. He recognizes this intro, knows this melody, and has listened to it countless times.

It’s a different experience to see Calvin live like this. He’s not usually the one who sings. Calvin’s the guitarist, not the lead vocalist. He does back-up vocals, and on rare occasions in smalland relaxed gigs, he duets with the lead vocalist, or sings on his own. Miles has never even seen any official videos of him singing before. It was usually from fan videos posted on social media—blurry, shaky videos with not as much traction.

Calvin looks so at ease, a contrast to the strung-up way he’s been the past few days. He avoids looking at the crowd, unlike how their lead vocalist does. His lips are quirked into a slight smile, expression relaxed, his voice carrying a cadence that makes Miles’ chest thrum, and Miles—Miles is enamored. He’s completely, undeniably enamored by what’s in front of him.

The band’s singer, Jeanette, isn’t singing along. She’s only playing her guitar, and Calvin soon notices because he nods at her and urges her on. They sing in unison, her voice giving the song a feminine touch.

There are several phones in the air. Miles wonders if any of these videos will pop-up on his social media later on, and as soon as the song ends, the crowd asks for another. Calvin’s jaw tightens, but he obliges.

And Miles watches, baffled that the man he’s seen around for the last two days could be the same man who’s performing, making butterflies dance around in his stomach.

He’s trying to figure it all out when a voice behind him calls out, “Miles, hey!”

He turns to see Jeff, someone who was a few years higher than him in high school. Miles recalls that he’s worked with big-shot hotels in other cities—which means it’s possible Camilla Hotel’s a client of his. A sour sensation settles in Miles’ stomach.

“Hey, I thought it was you,” Jeff says, stopping in front of him.

“How are you?”

“Life’s good. Getting married to Bridget next month.”