The applause for Chinny's rendition of Open Arms washed over me like a tidal wave, but all I could hear was the quiet hum of curiosity buzzing in my head. Gio's whispered comment hung in the air between us, an unexpected breeze ruffling the calm waters of my confidence.
"Have I heard that song before?" I'd asked, more to fill the space than from genuine ignorance. But his answer, a hesitant "I think so, not sure," had only deepened the mystery. It was like he was navigating a map in his head, landmarks blurry and half-remembered.
Chinny's triumphant return to the table momentarily chased away the intrigue. "Chinny, you sounded wonderful!" I exclaimed, my enthusiasm genuine. The duet idea blossomed in my mind, a shared spotlight to chase away the shadows of doubt creeping in. "Should we do a duet after the twins?"
"Sure," she grinned, the stage lights still glowing in her eyes. "Let's show them what real harmony sounds like."
But before I could revel in the prospect of shared musical glory, Gio's voice, low and smooth like melted chocolate, intervened. "You're different from what I imagined."
My head snapped towards him, curiosity replacing the warmth of camaraderie. Did he imagine me? How did he imagine me? The image of him watching a quiet, studious version of me melt away, replaced by a bewildered smile. "Really? How?"
He met my gaze, his hazel eyes unreadable for a moment before a smile crept across his lips. "You look like the shy and quiet type," he admitted, "but you're actually courageous and talkative. You didn't give that impression."
I chuckled, a nervous tremor at the edge of the sound. His analysis held an uncomfortable truth. The Abigail he pictured was a sketch in charcoal, all muted tones and hesitant strokes. But the Abigail sitting across from him, fueled by the spotlight and Chinny's confidence, was a vibrant watercolor, splashes of laughter and daring dreams bleeding onto the canvas.
"You're also a little different from what I imagined," I countered, feeling a spark of mischief ignite. He raised an eyebrow, a silent invitation to elaborate.
But for now, the answer lingered on my tongue, a secret melody waiting to be sung. The night was young, the music still playing, and the air vibrated with t
he promise of unexpected harmonies.