If I Played You My Favorite Song
“Thank you, you’ve been a great crowd,” he purrs, reaching a tattooed hand up to adjust the microphone. “I’m going to finish with something a little different.” He laughs quietly to himself and rolls his broad, black v-neck-clad shoulders like he’s steeling himself, the first time all night he’s seemed nervous. “This is, uh, another cover, and I’ve never actually performed it…ever. But I feel like tonight’s the perfect night for it.” He laughs again and takes a deep breath. “So yeah, please continue to be kind, folks.” The crowd cheers and the singer – Derek Hale – gives this little sly smile as he fiddles with the strings of his guitar for a second, those unbelievable eyes flashing over to where Stiles has been sitting all night.
In which acoustic musician Derek Hale seduces Stiles with a modern R&B classic.
- Part 1 of If I Played You My Favorite Song
He wasn’t going to go.
But then he saw the flyer, the little half-sheet of paper with Derek’s name in simple block letters against a silhouette of a howling wolf, the one that Allison had given him earlier, the one she said Derek gave her to give to him.
She left it face down on his coffee table, tucked under the ashtray that Derek bought him from the glassblowing studio they visited on the coast a couple of months ago when they rented a secluded cottage on the beach and Derek had tried to teach him how to surf.
He’d recognize Derek’s handwriting anywhere, has seen it on countless bar napkins and scraps of paper with fragments of lyrics strewn in his blocky, aggressive hand. He stared at the back of the flyer for a long time.
I’m sorry. I just –
Come tonight. Please.
He's out the door in a heartbeat.
- Part 2 of If I Played You My Favorite Song