Page 13 of Love's Free Will

Same Ave where we split a pack of noodles on the stove,

Same Ave where I prayed for a way up out this hole.

I hated to admit it—really hated to admit it—but the shit was running smoother than before. Not because I needed her help. But because—maybe—her input wasn’t completely trash.

We had kept some of my original lyrics, but there were key places where hers had filled in the gaps, making the flow cleaner, the storytelling sharper. And I wasn’t the only one who noticed.

King sat at the console, nodding his head to the track, a deep frown of concentration on his face. Zay stood off to the side, arms folded, his usual unimpressed expression betraying the fact that he was actually feeling it.

Malachi, my engineer, leaned forward, listening intently. When the song ended, there was a beat of silence. Then Malachi let out a low whistle. “Yeah… that shit right there? That’s it.”

Zay smirked, nodding. “That shit do sound better, bruh.”

King finally exhaled, shaking his head. “Yup. You should’ve listened the first time.”

I cracked my neck, annoyed. “Man, shut the fuck up.”

Zay snickered. “Nigga mad ‘cause she was right.”

I flipped him the bird, agitated. Because they weren’t wrong. The shit did sound better. Averi had even adjusted the beat, tweaking certain drum patterns, adding some depth to the 808s, making the production hit harder without changing the core of the track.

She sat at the console, tapping her freshly manicured fingers against her notebook, expression unreadable as she studied the waveforms on the screen. I watched her, still trying to figure out what it was about her that pissed me off so much.

She was fine as fuck, not gonna lie. The kind of fine that was effortless like she woke up looking like that—skin deep brown,sharp cheekbones, full lips, thick ass hair. If it wasn’t for that damn attitude, I would have liked her.

She had this air of confidence, like she just knew she was that bitch, and I hated how unimpressed she was with me. Most people walked into a room with me and automatically respected my presence. Averi? She walked into the room like she was the main event. And that got under my skin in a way I didn’t like.

Finally, she closed her notebook and stood up, grabbing her bag. “Alright, I’m out.”

I frowned. “Damn, just like that?”

She shot me a look. “Yeah, just like that. I got a flight in the morning.”

I leaned back, studying her. “When you comin’ back?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “I’ll send you some tracks tonight—ones I produced—so you can listen and see if anything fits your vibe.”

I hesitated before nodding. “Bet.”

She pulled out her phone, opening her contacts. “What’s your number?” I rattled it off, watching as she entered it and sent me a text with a simple link—probably to a drive with the tracks. Before she tucked her phone away, she leveled me with a sharp look. “Only use that number for music purposes.”

I smirked. “Don’t nobody want yo weird ass.” She rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “What was that lil’ ugly?” I challenged.

She turned, already walking toward the door. “I said I’m making a mistake working with a fuck boy like you. I know I’m going to regret this shit.”

I let out a low laugh, watching her leave. “Too late now, Shawty.”

She didn’t look back. Instead, she flipped me the bird and walked out of the studio. I laughed, shaking my head. She really couldn’t stand me.

The second she was gone, King and Zay both turned to me, wearing matching smirks. I already knew what they were about to say. And I was not in the mood.

“Bruh,” King started, shaking his head. “You really think we can’t see the way you lookin’ at her?”

I scowled. “The fuck that mean?”

Zay chuckled. “It means that shit is written all over your face, nigga. You been starin’ at her hard as hell this whole time.”

I sucked my teeth. “Man, fuck outta here, y’all got me fucked up.”

---