You walked in late like it’s fashion week,

Said my name slow, with a tongue-in-cheek.

I’m not your type — at least that’s the lie,

So why’s your hand already on my thigh?

We’re the headline no one can print,

The rumor that’s probably true-ish, hint hint.

Skip the rules, skip the backstory,

We’ll just skip straight to the category: “Glory.”

Don’t say “forever,”

Just say “whenever,”

We’re clever enough

To get caught twice.

Call it strictly unofficial,

Call it maybe, call it wishful.

Every move is borderline,

But baby, you draw the line just fine.

This ain’t love, it’s more delicious,

Like a sin served with three kisses.

You’re my public secret —

And I’m not keepin’ it.

You talk sweet, but your hands talk loud,

In the middle of the dancefloor crowd.

One more drink and I’ll mispronounce,

The “no” that I wasn’t gonna announce.

You’re a bad idea, dressed in Prada,

I’m the twist at the end of the drama.

We’re both wrong — but we’re cute about it,

And that’s my favorite thing about it.

We’re champagne in a coffee cup,

We’re “don’t look down” but we’re looking up.

We’ll write this in invisible pen,

So we can read it all over again.

Call it strictly unofficial,

Call it maybe, call it wishful.

Every move is borderline,

But baby, you draw the line just fine.

This ain’t love, it’s more delicious,

Like a sin served with three kisses.

You’re my public secret —

And I’m not keepin’ it.

So say it with me, under your breath,

We’re not in love…

(But we’re close enough to it.)