The Melody Of Us

Done done done

My throat hurts.

And I hate Gabriel's manager with passion. Like, seriously. There's no trace of an unwanted exaggeration here, believe me. I can actually plan to dye his wig an evil shade of neon pink the first thing in the morning. Trust me.

Gabriel slouches down beside me and sympathises me.

"I'm sorry, Liana." He says, putting a firm hand on my knee and squeezing it.

Uh oh. Wrong thing to say.

In other circumstances, I would have started blushing hard and oozing every sort of creepster tendencies I possess.

But right now, the situation is different. Totally different.

"You know what, champ? If you're really sorry right now, you'd better go dig a hole for your too bossy manager. Is he holding some cursed grudges against me or what?"

Gabriel looks at me with an expression that clearly screams the extent of his amusement. Well, suffice to say, I pretty much surprised myself as well. I mean, who would have the nerve to say stuff like that to a celeb?

Me, of course.

"If it wasn't for your boiling anger, I might've been tempted to kiss you. Right here, right now." He says it in a voice that is inaudible to everyone except for me.

And that's when my heart decides to follow its regular drill of the wild Hawaiian dance.

Poor me. I have a completely questionable human body, with even more questionable organs and hormones.

Gabriel Stone has the decency to wink at me. Bless his soul.

"Get your ego in check." I mutter and place my forehead against my joined knees.

Aah. Comfort.

"You get your blushing department in check. I'm afraid you'll start looking like a red Indian if you don't stop going beet red in the face."

It will be safe to say that my blushing department exploded with a fantastically new shade of red right across my face; as if someone has slapped a brick right there.

"Remind me again, if you can. Why am I even talking to you?" I pick at my nails.

"The answer is pretty simple, you know?"

"Uh Huh? Humour me, please."

"It's not about humouring you, Liana Matthias Hall..."

"Alright, I'll ask you again. Why am I talking to you?" I blink continuously and he tries to not have a laughter burst out.

"Because you love me."

The way he says it sends my heart into a fit. I'm sure it was just a passing comment, and it meant absolutely nothing. He was messing with me, I know.

But there was nothing in his expression that rang the warning bells for me. His eyes bore into mine earnestly and for a minute, I forgot about the bull-manager with an absurd wig breathing down my neck.

Have you seen those overly romantic chick flicks where the lead actor and actress are trapped in a trance? Where they simply gape at each other with a longing so pure that it makes you smile giddily? Where the time stops abruptly and the breeze decides to sweep you off your feet?

Well, this was it. I can't believe that I'm agreeing with those cliched scenes.

And obviously, just like in movies, our little bubble of illusion gets pin-pricked by the third person.