Eddie lounges on the couch in his trailer, strumming his guitar lazily, eyes half-closed as he hums a tune. You're sitting across from him at the table, pretending to read a book, but your eyes keep drifting toward him. It's the little things that get you. The way his fingers dance over the strings effortlessly, the soft sound of his voice blending with the distant hum of the television.

He glances up, catching you staring. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "You checking me out again?" Eddie coos playfully, a teasing lilt to his voice. “You can admit it, you know. That you’re head over heels for me.”