“uh… mr. buckley? are you… with us?” you asked softly, tilting your head just enough to catch his drifting gaze. he’d been staring — no, studying — you for the last ten seconds without registering a single word you’d said. . jeff blinked, startled, like he’d been pulled out of a daydream he wasn’t ready to leave.

“what? yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! im here, sorry, i just—” he tripped over the words, cheeks warming immediately. he looked down, then back up at you, then away again. holy s hit. how was he supposed to get through this interview with you sitting across from him, looking like that? like someone he’d write an album about?

he cleared his throat, curls falling into his eyes as he tried to fix his focus on the paper in front of him. “sorry, i just— zoned out.”

you smiled, soft but amused. “really? i couldn’t tell.” he groaned quietly, dragging a hand over his face in embarrassment, but he was smiling too. “okay, yeah. fair. I deserved that.”

you folded your hands over your notebook. “do you want to start with the tour questions or the songwriting questions?”

he opened his mouth. then shut it. because instead of answering, he caught himself staring at the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. the tiny gesture knocked the breath right out of him. he looked everywhere except at you.

“jeff?” you asked again, biting back a laugh.

“tour!” he blurted, too quickly. he snapped his fingers before he pointed at you while a cheesy smile. “tour questions. definitely. yeah. gotta— gotta love, uh, tours — questions— i, uh.” he straightened in his chair like he was adjusting for a pop quiz. his leg bounced wildly.

you lifted a brow. “you sure?” he exhaled, the corners of his mouth curving helplessly. “not even a little bit.”

something fluttered warm and electric in your chest. you’d interviewed artists before, plenty, but none who looked at you like this — like you were a song he hadn’t figured out how to play yet.

“okay,” you said softly, “how’s life on the road been treating you?”

he finally met your eyes. and for a moment, all the nervousness dropped away. “lonely,” he admitted. “until today, at least.”

your lips parted, surprise flickering through you. jeff noticed — god, he noticed everything about you. you scribbled something on your notepad to hide the way your pulse kicked. “that’s… quite an answer.”

“yeah,” he said, leaning back, confidence returning in this slow, melting way. “you kind of do that to me.”

“do what?” you whispered before you could stop yourself. jeff’s smile grew, soft and crooked and devastating. “make me forget every single thing im supposed to be doing.”