“How’s your food?” I ask you, my voice low so as to keep the conversation between us and not involving the rest of the rowdy table. I’d already just ushered the waiter to get you refill on your wine, and my jacket was draped over your shoulders after I’d caught you even slightly shivering.

I know at least Mitch had noticed our odd behavior over the past few weeks of tour, and he’d probably let it slip to Sarah by now, but I’ve continuously insisted that we’re just friends who got closer once you joined the on-stage band for my tour.

What I’ve not shared is that we also tend to hook up here and there.

Look, after a show when everyone is celebrating at dinner and having fun with some alcohol involved…you tend to latch onto the closest person for some evening fun. Especially when you’re already in close proximity for months and months on end. No harm, no foul.

This is another one of those evenings, but I opted out of drinking for the night since I have another show tomorrow and don’t want to be hungover for it.

So instead I’m keeping a watchful and protective eye on a very tipsy you, with my arm tossed over the back of the booth behind you.