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    Summary

    “Also…” muttered PP, shifting his attention completely back to the new sound technician that he had been eyeing before, his mouth watering at the way his shirt’s short sleeves were barely fitting around his arms. “If they want me to quit staring, then they should stop picking them all tall, dark and handsome.”

    “Bullshit!” trilled P’Plern, in a tone that could be heard clearly even above the rumble of the waiting crowd in the stadium. “Both Nong Tay and Nong Billkin are exactly your same height.” went on the make-up artist, completely unaffected by the singer’s declaration, but the words only made PP snap his head back to her face with eyes full of interest, while P’Ritz stopped fixing the last details on PP’s stage outfit to let out an amused snort at his reaction.

    “Billkin?” replied the singer, almost breathlessly, a dangerous smirk slowly spreading out on his face. “Is that his name?”

    (When a famous singer on tour wants to get into the pants of his brand-new and apparently impassible collaborator, but loses his heart to him as well.)

    Language:
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