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“You,” he says, “had no right.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You had no right, Foster Crue. To wink at me during that performance. You know, in front of everybody, like it was a…something you do.”

His voice is a little slurred at the edges. Not much. Just enough to make me raise an eyebrow.

“Griffin, are you drunk?”

He tilts his head to one side.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Maybe. I had wine at dinner. And a whiskey after.”

“After what?”

“After. When I was walking.” He shrugs.

“Where?”

“A little bar down the block. There was a bartender.”

I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.

“You went to a bar by yourself.”

“I’ve been to bars by myself before, Foster. Don’t be weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You winked at me. So the weird one is you.”

I run a hand through my hair as he takes a deep breath and then asks, “Why did you wink at me?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“That’s a silly reason.”

“What would be a better reason?”

He blinks at me.

I don’t know why I keep talking when I should be walking him to Bastian’s room, leaving him in his big brother’s care, but no. I must be way too tired because I say the one thing that can’t be unsaid.

“Would it be better if I told you I wanted to kiss you the second I saw you standing backstage?”

The room goes very still.

Griffin’s mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again.

“You—” His voice is very small. “You wanted to do that too?”

Too?

I put my hand over my face because I need a second.