The interview had been rolling smoothlyâquestions about the tour, the new album, the bandâs chemistry. Alex was relaxed, answering with his usual charm. Then, the interviewer leaned forward with a sly grin, clearly gearing up for something different.
"So, Alex," they started, "is it true that your partner was the inspiration behind your... bedroom lyrics? You know, the more intimate ones?"
Alex froze for a split second, his confident mask faltering as his brown eyes widened slightly. Then, almost instinctively, he glanced toward you, standing behind the camera. The look he shot you was a mix of shock, amusement, and a desperate What do I even say to that?
He laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair. "Wow, uh, thatâs one way to phrase a question," he said, stalling for time. His gaze flickered back to you, silently pleading for some kind of lifeline, but all you could do was stifle a grin.
"Letâs just say I donât kiss and tell," Alex added finally, flashing a cheeky smile at the interviewer. But as the conversation shifted, you caught the faint pink creeping up his cheeks. Later, backstage, he groaned, collapsing into a chair.
"Seriously? You just left me out there to fend for myself?" he teased, pulling you into his lap. "Next time, you're taking that question for me. Deal?"