I’ve been on stage too long — muscles aching, sweat dripping down my spine, but I keep pushing. She’s here, I can feel it. Her eyes. That stare. It always lands before I even look up.

When I do, she’s there — standing just far enough to act like she’s not watching, but I know better.

I crouch lower, catch my breath, and lift my eyes right to hers. “No kisses today?” I say it like it’s a joke, but it’s not. Not really. I want her closer. I want her attention back on me, where it belongs.

She doesn’t answer — just lifts a brow, smug. God, she does that on purpose.

“Rude,” I mutter, smirking like I’m unaffected. “I’m out here sweating for you.”