ceciliatan

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

Carynne arrived around 11:30 with Bart and Chris in tow. She looked happy to see me and gave me a not-quite-there kiss on my cheek (not because she was afraid I was contagious or something, but so as not to muss her power lipstick, or so she explained).

She looked less happy to see Bradley. “Tess? Er.” She coughed and I felt deeply uncomfortable as Carynne blushed to her roots having somewhat obviously blurted out the wrong name. “Brad.” Cough. “What are you doing here?”

“Auditioning,” Bradley said with a firm deadpan that was eerily familiar to me. Hands in pockets. Chin slightly raised. Feet flat on the floor.

Heart probably beating a mile a minute if he was anything like me.