“I think one of the most Dangerous games that two people can play is the game of love.“

Where do I begin?

Silence —

When I first began working on this project, I think the place I was at in life was a bit lost…?

Like I had been just on auto pilot. I shrunk myself down so much, living what felt like a loop.

I was disconnected from myself, my purpose. Running to what and where I had no idea, but just this faint idea this dream that I’d had as a child that kept pulling at me.

For someone who has always lived through words—written them, sung them, poured them into people—I had somehow ran out of them.

I was going through the motions of my life but not really present for any of it.
Like something had slipped quietly out of reach, and I couldn’t name what.

My thoughts felt jumbled. My voice didn’t sound like me.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I didn’t belong to anything.

Or anyone.

Not even myself.

(Then He came along..in all my mess, while I was half a version of myself,— He saw me and everything changed.)

It had been a while since I had been home.

The 12 hour recording sessions, hectic work schedule, I was depleted.

Sitting alone in the dark—2, maybe 3 a.m.— the only familiar thing was an old Oxford sweater that I clung to, as much as it clung onto me.

For a moment, the silence became clarity. Everything in the world felt far away.

Except the guitar in my lap.

Except for the feeling I couldn’t name.

I started playing random chords, just to hear something.
To see if sound could fill whatever strange silence had been living in me.
And then it came:
“Just keep your hands on me, and we can take this nice and slow…don’t complicate chemistry keep doing what you’re doing to me”

I stopped.

It didn’t feel like I had written it.
It felt like I had remembered it.
Like the words had been waiting for me in some other version of time—somewhere between memory and premonition.

It took me 45 mins to write the song.

Looking back now, I think that’s what Dangerous Company really is.

A song that knew before I did.

Before I understood the weight of a glance held too long.

Before I caught on to the way his voice lingered in my chest after he was gone.

Before I realized what it meant to feel safe and unsure in the same moment.

That slow ache of tension, of chemistry, of unsaid things—tied up in the space between bodies pretending to stay “casual.”

The way our words danced around everything we couldn’t say.

It was slow.
But it was certain.
Like gravity.

Pulling us close enough to touch, then pushing us away just to meet again.

And for a long time, I left it without a bridge.
I tucked it away.
Maybe because I hadn’t lived it fully yet.
Maybe because the story wasn’t ready to be fully told.

But then, 3 years later, we picked it as the single.
Of all the songs I’ve written, this one rose to the surface like it had waited for this exact moment.
In our final listening session, we didn’t plan on writing a bridge for it; but something made Sam (my Producer/Friend) and I feel like it was almost necessary. The lyrics poured out like they’d been living in my body the whole time, just waiting for me to catch up. The bridge somehow summed up all the things I wish I had said but never did.

That’s what makes this song feel different.
It wasn’t written all at once.
It was collected.
Over years. Over things left unsaid. Over memories that still hum beneath my skin.

Dangerous Company is about that moment—the one where you realize you’ve fallen.
Before there were labels. Before anything made sense.
Before you had time to stop yourself.

And maybe it wasn’t “right.”
Maybe it couldn’t last.
But for a while, it was beautiful.
Magnetic. Soft. Charged.
Like your skin recognized theirs before your mind caught up.

This song isn’t about regret.
It’s not about who hurt who, or how it ended.
It’s about that one moment you keep going back to in your head—the one where you first felt it.
Where your heart whispered something your logic wasn’t ready to hear.

It’s the dance between two equally lost people who somehow brought each other back to themselves…with a kind of Love that was quiet, whispered between them and only them. Now forever locked in time in the lyrics of this song.

So if you’re reading this…
Maybe it’s about you.
Maybe not.
But you should know—I meant it.
Every glance. Every silence. Every lyric.

Love,

Jamie