"I'm giving those people out there a chance to hear the most beautiful voice on the planet."  I brushed an errant strand of his ink-black hair aside and took his face between my hands, brushing my lips across his.  When he didn't speak immediately, and his expression remained unreadable, I continued, 

"Look, if you don't want to do this just say the word and I'll tell Lynne to shove it.  But I meant what I said - I'm not going out there without you." 

He took a moment to digest my words.  I knew I had him when I saw the smile tug at his mouth, the light flicker on in his eyes. 

"OK.  But what song are we doing?"  His head titled up a notch, eyes lit with challenge.  I met his unwavering gaze, my voice level. 

"You know which one.  Is it finished?" 

"I don't know - is it?"  He countered without missing a beat. I did a quick mental check. //Lyrics? Yes. Music? Check.// 

"Yeah, it is."  I felt the smile creep across my face, echoing Darren's satisfied smirk. 

"Good." 

I'd gotten so used the crowd noise it barely registered any more, it'd become mere white noise in the background of the dressing room.  It wasn't until Darren and I got side stage that sheer volume forced me to acknowledge the presence of the overpoweringly large crowd. 

In response, I felt the familiar rise of nausea in my stomach.  But it vanished at the briefest touch of Darren's hand on my shoulder.  He leaned in, speaking close to my ear, 

"Don't be nervous."  his lips brushing my cheek on the way down, so brief I might have missed it, if it weren't for the slash of electric heat he left on my skin. 

Spurred into action, I told Ben and Karl to take a break and Darren and I took the stage alone.  Darren's presence caused an immediate stir, and I knew the press would be hounding us later for his identity, but I was glad that at that moment, he was to them the mysterious beguiling stranger he was when I first saw him. 

They adored him.   

He enchanted every one of them, seduced them, had them eating out of his hand.  And on top of it all, the song, now complete with his lyrics, was flawless.   

"I knew I loved you before I met you 
I think I dreamed you into life 
I knew I loved you before I met you 
I have been waiting all my life..." 

Every word rang as true and clear as his tenor. 

I couldn't tear my eyes from him for the entire performance.  I was just as transfixed as the rest of the audience.  He was so comfortable up there, playing to them, wearing their unwavering attention with casual style, lapping it up like a kitten with cream.  It was so natural for him to be up there, in front of thousands. 

So at ease, it began to rub off on me.  The sheer naked terror I usually felt at facing an audience was gone.  Being on stage with him, I did the impossible,   I actually began to enjoy myself.  I even got up off that damn stool and approached the front of the stage.  Within reaching distance of the teeming crowd, I found I could look at them without their faces blurring into dizziness.   

The performance passed in a blur, much too fast.  But I remember every glance, every touch of his hand on my shoulder, every word he sang to me. And he was singing to me, fixing those blues on me and stopping my heart as our bodies swayed in time. I knew I should've been worried about being obvious, giving ourselves away before the international press, but I was so high on Darren I couldn't bring myself to care. 

As I played the last chord, the applause grew deafening, the camera flashes blinding, but it all barely registered, my total attention was so affixed on Darren.  His eyes found mine again as I was putting down my guitar, pinning me with a smile. 

We hadn't taken two steps off stage before my lips were on his.  I didn't care who saw us, I just needed to taste him, to seal this feeling inside me, inside us.  The incredible joy, the desire, the need, the... love. 

The words of the song still thrummed through me, every note perfection, the meaning so undeniably clear.  He'd read me like a book on this one, wringing my feelings from the notes with every beautifully sung word.  Or were they his feelings he was singing about? 

I relinquished his mouth, breathless after a head-spinning kiss, one hand still cupping his face.  I asked him,  

"Did you mean it?"   

Eyes shining, his arms tightened around my waist, lips curling into that melting smile.  When he spoke, his voice was a tight whisper, meant only for me, 

"Every word."   

I couldn't fight the answering smile on my face and I didn't want to. 

"Me too."