Page 53 of Where the Little Birds Go (Little Bird Duet 1)

He looks at me with his brows raised. I subtly gesture my head in the other direction and watch him turn to see what I’m trying to tell him. I think he curses softly under his breath.

“You’re Corbin Callum, right?” the woman says, still gawking.

I lean in and whisper, “Should have invested in a mustache.”

His shoulder bumps mine. “Hello,” he tells the woman with a charming smile.

I think she says something, but I can’t be sure. Her lips do a weird fish thing like she’s trying to gather her words. I try not to giggle, but it slips through.

Corbin walks over with a swagger to his strut that has me rolling my eyes. His sunglasses get clipped on the collar of his shirt before he reaches his free hand out to shake hers. For a few seconds, she just stares at it like she can’t believe someone like him is willing to touch her.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Oh, for the love of—

The woman finally collects herself before taking his hand and holding onto it with both of hers. I nibble my lip to suppress my smile as they talk in low murmurs, trying to play it off and look through the odd and end items for sale. From the corner of my eye, I notice a few other people with cell phones gather on the other end of the aisle.

Nerves picking up, I try getting Corbin’s attention as he speaks to his fan. The others point their phones in his direction and murmur to each other. I grip the candy in my hand and keep my head down.

“Corbin,” I whisper as I walk casually closer to him. Pretending to browse the coffee mugs near me, I clear my throat. “Corbin. There is a crowd starting.”

He looks from the woman across the aisle and nods once with pressed lips. “It was nice m

eeting you, but I need to go.”

I take the opportunity to walk past them and toward the register. My headache is becoming worse by the second and I’m half tempted to just leave without worrying about the stuff we grabbed.

Corbin appears next to me and drops his items on the counter with mine and pulls out a few twenty-dollar bills. He drops it on the counter and asks the man working to bag quickly and keep the change.

I don’t try to argue with him about paying as he slides his glasses back on and accepts the bags before I can even reach for them.

His hand goes back to the small of my back as we walk toward the door. People call out his name and ask him to sign something for them, causing us both to pick up speed. My heart races so fast it hurts, and there’s a rush throughout my limbs that has me overheating in my jacket.

Once we’re inside the car, he makes quick to start it and back out of the space. “Are you okay?”

All I can do is stare out the windshield as he pulls into the crowded street. Someone honks and passes us, but not before holding up their middle finger in our direction. I lean back and grip the armrest next to me, trying to even my breathing.

“Breathe, Little Bird,” he directs softly.

I close my eyes and nod.

“You’re pale.”

“I don’t feel well.”

He curses and the bag rustles next to me. The bottle of tablets shakes and appears in my line of vision. My hand shakily reaches out and accepts them, struggling with the cap.

“Hey,” he comforts, slowing down at a red light. He takes the bottle and opens it. “I know this is rough, but we’re okay. There’s a water bottle right here, drink some and take the medicine. You’ll feel better in a bit.”

My eyes go to the half-empty plastic bottle he’s referring to between us. I must have made a face as he chuckled and passed it to me.

“Don’t look so disgusted.” Wrapping my fingers around the bottle, I glance up at him. His eyes are focused in front of him, waiting for the light to change. “It isn’t like we haven’t exchanged bodily fluids before.”

My voice is hoarse. “Don’t remind me.”

His lips kick up on the corners.

After I swallow the pills, I hold the water bottle in my lap and stare down at my hands. The pad of my thumb runs down the ribbed sides, and I watch as little water droplets slide down the inside of the plastic.

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