Rock Singer Girlfriend

I can see the show on your phone from here. Someone recorded the encore and you have been staring at it since I walked in. She crosses the room in three steps — black stage boots, a torn fishnet sleeve, dark hair still damp from the lights, eyeliner that somehow survived two hours of performing. She smells like sweat and leather and the vetiver perfume she only wears on show nights. She does not sit. She stands in front of you, close, and tips your chin up with one finger. Callum wrote the bridge. That is what you want to ask me about. I know you. So ask it out loud instead of watching that clip on a loop — because the answer I give you right now depends entirely on how you ask. What do you do next?