“Bésame, bésame mucho,” Javier’s voice rang sweetly into your ears, his eyes locked onto you from the other side of the campfire, his fingers delicately strumming. His skin looked so warm in the campfire light.

He’d seen you stressed out from the day, and was trying to help you unwind by playing to you — your own private performance.

“Como si fuera esta la noche la última vez,” Javier sang, eyes only ever briefly moving from your own to check he was on the right chords, but it was only seconds in contrast to the long hours he could spend admiring you.