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Confession	By : RavenElfwitch Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Josh Groban Views: 2017 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Josh Groban. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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CHAPTER TWO

Fresh from a shower in her hotel room at just gone seven twenty, she stared in the mirror, smiling to herself. She was going out to dinner with Josh. Biting her lip, to stop from squealing, she tossed the wet towel into the bathroom and pulled on a simple, jersey dress. It was black and bias cut, skimming just below her knees and looking more glamorous than it really was, because of the cowl neck. Knee high black boots in soft kid leather and pointed toes, were perfect for the time of year. It was cold out.

She laid out her tailored corduroy jacket, in a soft green. It brought out her hazel eyes. A long, thin, satin scarf made up for a lack of jewellery, with its tiny transparent beads dotted over it. She tied it loosely, so that it hung down the centre of the dress. Sitting down at the table, beside the TV, she applied light makeup, blow drying her hair and leaving it loose. Standing, she walked into a cloud of perfume, then pulled on the jacket. She busied herself picking up shoes, re-folding clothes she’d decided against. The bathroom was like a bombsite, so she thrust all her products into her large toiletry bag and slung the wet towels in the bath. That would do. A knock at her hotel door brought her up sharp. He was here.

“Oh wow…” Those were his words, as she opened the door. He blinked, staring slightly dazedly at her. Finally, that broad smile broke through and he looked more like the person she saw in the studio, every day, “I thought we were grabbing some food, suddenly this feels like something more.” Sofia blushed to her roots, she actually felt the heat reach her hairline. He raised a hand, laughing at himself when he realised he’d embarrassed her, “I meant because of your outfit… the place we’re going is just this little… family run place,” nodding behind him, his feet shifted restlessly, as a frown settled over his eyes, “and that coat really brings out your eyes,” he added, as though this explained his reaction. Sofia felt her blush deepen and he laughed, the jacket falling open as he cleared his throat, “maybe I should start again.”

Trying hard not to grin, Sofia watched him hold both hands out wide, brows rising sincerely,
“You look lovely…” his eyes narrowed slightly, flickering over her face, so that she couldn’t doubt he really meant it. Which was hard to take in, without feeling light headed. Seeing as the long black shirt he was wearing, wasn’t that loose, and accentuated how tall and lean he really was. Where were they again? Clapping his hands as if to break the strange pause, Josh grinned, “lets go to dinner.”
“Sounds good,” she agreed, stepping towards him and closing the door behind her, so that it clicked shut.

It wasn’t that cold for a September night, then again it was Rome. Sofia listened to him talking, trying not to give too long an answer, since she loved hearing his voice so much. It seemed he was keen not to take control of the conversation though and so she did what she rarely did. Allowed someone else to be the silent party, the attentive listener. Because that was another thing about him that drew her. He really listened when you spoke, taking it all in with those brown eyes. One hand slipped in his jeans pocket, his other hand gestured, shoulders shrugging and twisting. He was a ball of energy and while his vocals were so often smooth and stirring, his speaking voice was far more buoyant.

They reached the restaurant within minutes. It was, as Josh had said, a small, family run place. Sofia loved it. The evening may be unfolding like some feel-good romance novel, but she didn’t care. Besides, Josh was good company. His humour could be sharp, though never in a bad way. The food was gorgeous and he encouraged her to stuff her face, not that she needed it. They ordered all three courses and side dishes. They even battled it out with spoons when he asked to try some of her desert. She must really love him. She never shared Tiramisu with anyone.

“So three hours went really fast,” he spoke, as they left with a wave from the owner. Eyes narrowing, Sofia turned her head from the couple waving at the door to the restaurant, turning a corner with him,
“What did they say as you were paying for the bill?”
“Ah…” he actually blushed and Sofia decided it was cute on him, and she had sunk to new levels of low and pathetic, “he was asking about a erm… a lady friend I took there last time.”
“Oh.” Suddenly the evening was serious and she didn’t want to ask. Even if curiosity was rearing its head over her shoulder,
“Its cool though,” he reassured her, smiling as he shrugged, “I explained I wasn’t with her anymore and that my new wife knows all about you and is happy me having a mistress.” Mouth wide, she turned on him and slapped his arm. He winced too, because she did it with a bit too much force,
“GBH by clutch bag,” he protested, pulling a face of wounding pain,
“Oh give over, I barely touched you,” she chided, sniggering as he slowed, falling behind her and limping, “you may be a singer, but you’re no actor,” she tossed over her shoulder, sounding a lot tougher than she felt. She was growing to like him… too much.

Her comment was a bad idea. Suddenly falling to one knee, he reached out for her with both hands,
“Sofia…. mi amore, sofia.” She took two steps and bent over him, hand sealing around his arm,
“Ssssh!” She pleaded, not thinking she would have ever found herself telling him not to sing, “they’ll hear you?”
“I don’t care!” He stood up, sliding a hand around her waist and beginning to dance, along the damp pavement, on a cool September night. He was mad. Sofia looked up at him, feeling dizzy and very aware how strong he was, for such a beanpole. He slowed them to a halt, looking down at her without that signature smile. Suddenly looking very thoughtful about something. Hesitating, he bent his head, eyes shooting right as his mouth formed the words he was contemplating so carefully,
“Would I run the risk of a second round with the clutch bag, if I kissed you?” Sofia stared
back, because it took her a good few seconds to actually work out what he was asking.
“Erm… worth the risk,” she replied, breathing out shakily as the arm that had held her gently began to tighten, drawing her up against his heat, through the thin shirt.
“I think so,” he murmured, eyes fixed on her mouth, just before his head of curls blacked out the stars and his lips pressed into hers.
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Confession