“Me?” I breathe out a surprised chuckle. “I can’t hold a note in a bucket.”
“Oh.” Her laugh dips low and has me gripping the phone tighter. “I meant . . . talking, I guess. I like your voice when you . . . talk.”
It’s quiet on the line for a few seconds while I play that back, irritated with myself for wanting to ask her what else she likes about me because that doesn’t matter. It can’t. Even separated by thousands of miles, tension coils between us—a rubber band that if pulled too hard, will pop. I’m honest enough with myself to acknowledge it, but doing anything about it? No damn way. Hell, I should have let Evan or Graham handle this, though that would have drawn their curiosity.
“Uh, thanks,” I say abruptly. “So look for the details and travel arrangements from Graham in the next day or so. Verity has reworked the script. We’ll send over what you guys will read for the screen test, though it won’t be much.”
“I can’t wait to read Verity’s changes.”
“It’ll keep evolving, I’m sure, but it’s getting there. We want to get a little with you and Trey to see how you vibe. Graham will send the scene over.” This has got to be the most pleasant, stilted conversation I’ve ever had, but I need to end it. “I gotta go.”
“Oh, sure. Of course. I’ll be on the lookout for the script. I guess I’ll see you soon.”
“Yeah. See you soon. Take care, Neevah.”
And then I do what I should have done five minutes ago.
I let her go.