Page 49 of Paint Our Song

“Fine,” Calvin mutters, but he goes ahead anyway and disappears behind the red door.

Miles reserves a private room for two and follows him. The door leads to a dim hallway with red walls and half a dozen doors, all of which have letters on them. There’s the faint sound of music in the hallway, all unintelligible and jumbled.

“You can’t say things like that because they fuel rumors,” Calvin tells him, clearly not over what Miles can only interpret had been a harmless lie.

“I’m sorry. Not again.” Taking pity on him, Miles puts his hands up in an apology.

“What now?”

“Room C!” Miles leads the way. “I only booked it for half an hour.”

The room is small and windowless and clearly meant for couples. It’s even darker than the hallway with neon fluorescent lights built into the wall, and there’s a black two-seater couch with a low coffee table.

“Oh, cool. Look at all these songs.” Miles points at the screen where there’s a massive list of options.

“This is weird, Miles.”

He realizes, the awkwardness seeping in, that Calvin is sayingweirdwhen what he actually means isintimateandromantic,in a way.

Calvin grimaces as he looks around the room. “I think I’ve seen this couch on PornHub.”

Miles chokes and almost falls over said couch, and his entire face burns. Clearly bewildered by his own words, Calvin scrubs a hand over his face.

“Please forget I said that.” Calvin’s voice is weak.

“… Aaandnowyou made this weird.”

“It was already weird!”

“Remember when I said you had a dirty mind?”

“I don’t have a dirty mind.”

“If you say so,” Miles sing-songs.

“Shut it.” Calvin levels a glare at him.

Cackling, Miles is still very much embarrassed, but he plops down on the couch, anyway, and tries to salvage the situation. He fumbles with the remote. “Anyway, I thought this would be fun. I haven’t been to one in a while and it looked like a good way to lose your fans. If you really don’t want to, then we can go.”

The couch dips when Calvin sits beside him, trying to stay as far from him as possible. “I’m not singing,” he says.

“Fine, suit yourself. Do you think they have songs from your band?”

That earns him another glare.

He settles on “Sweet Caroline,” and Calvin lets out a soft wheeze when he starts singing. Miles grins. He knows he’s terrible at singing, and he doesn’t care—especially when Calvin’s shoulders start shaking and he leans down and buries his face in his arms.

“You’re terrible,” Calvin says.

“Yeah, I’m not the singer here.” He points the mic at Calvin. “Go on!”

“No.”

“You sing on stage all the time.”

“Yeah, but you’re making me nervous.”

Baffled, Miles makes a face and belts out the next line to the song. Calvin laughs again and shakes his head. For a moment, and not for the first time, Miles is stunned by Calvin—at his rosy cheeks, at how he throws his head back when he laughs, and how he’s smiling wider than Miles has ever seen him.