Getting through Flynn singing is incredibly hard. The way his throat moves, the way his mouth caresses each syllable of the low, raspy sound that falls from his lips. I should be watching his posture, his breathing, the way his larynx forces out the words—but instead I’m focused on the beauty of his mouth and how the sound of his voice glides over my body, making it feel both warm and tingly at the same time. I’m lost when the song finishes, yet I haven’t really observed him yet.

“So. Give it to me straight. What am I doing wrong?”

Ummm…absolutely nothing from what I can see. Everything was perfect. Don’t change a thing. Shit. “Could you do it again? Maybe a different song, one you haven’t sung in a while. So the sounds are less familiar to your body. Sometimes that can give me a different view.” At least I make it sound like a real thing when the words come out.

He sings again, and this time I force myself to observe. “Hmm…your posture is great. Most people have a tendency to favor one side of their neck, which makes them tilt a bit when they speak, and it becomes magnified when they sing, which puts strain on the muscles around the vocal cords. Your alignment is perfect.”

“Thank you, it goes with the rest of my perfectness,” he says with a teasing arrogance that, from the little I know about him, I know isn’t real.

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“You can’t now tell me I’m not perfect. I was already basking in the glow.”

“Actually, it was perfect…but almost a little too perfect. Which makes me think you don’t usually stand this way when you sing.”

“It isn’t the way I normally sing. On stage, I usually have a guitar over my shoulder. Even if I’m not playing it, it’s there.”

“Well, I need to see you holding your instrument to assess you fully, then.”

Flynn’s eyebrows quirk up and the dirty grin on his face is unmistakable.

“The guitar. I’d need to see you holding the guitar.”

“That’s a shame.” He shrugs, the playful smile still on his face. “But okay. It’s your call. Whatever instrument you want to see me hold is fine with me.”

“How big of you.”

“So now we’re talking about the other instrument again?”

I roll my eyes, although this conversation is having more of an effect on me than I let on.

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