Page 214 of Composed
Then, he snags his coffee off the floor and downs it as the perfect beat pours through my headphones.
Fucking show off.
Saint yawns from his hunched position on the floor. Axel snores beside him, mouth wide, arm flung over his face.
We’ve been in here for over twenty-four hours now. Turns out once we got started, I couldn’t stop.
It’s been a long time since I felt a fire while sitting in a studio, pouring over music. Now it’s not just a spark, it’s a fucking ember, burning bright and begging me to feed it.
Music has always been my motivation. From sitting on my mum’s lap playing piano, to my old man teaching me the drums. Even the violin I picked up in secondary school just for shits and giggles. I’ve never not loved music, but I lost the passion somewhere along the line.
Now, it’s back with a vengeance and I’m not about to give that up for a good night’s sleep.
I push the talkback as the final cymbal hit trickles through the headphones. “I’ll take it.”
“Great. Thanks,” Carter deadpans, giving me a pointed glare as he shoves his stool back. “I need your girl to get her arse back here asap. She’s one take and done, just how I like it.”
Saint grunts. “What he said, I’m fucking knackered. Can we go to bed yet?”
A soft laugh sounds behind me, one full of joy and light.
My stomach flips.
I spin, chair teetering backwards when Hendrix steps into the doorframe.
“I’m glad to know you missed me, guys.” She crosses her arms over her chest with a grin. “Because, I happen to be in need of a place to stay, so I’m hoping you won’t mind me sticking around for a while.”
“Stay forever,” Axel croaks, one eye cracked.
I narrow my gaze and scan every inch of her face. “Why do you need somewhere to stay, Rixie?”
“The estate agent is pretty confident my house will sell soon, so…” She drums her fingers on her arm, her eyes glinting gold under the LEDs.
The room blurs around me until she’s the only thing I see. “You’re selling your house?”
“I mean I can take it off the market, if I need to.” She shrugs a shoulder, lip stud tucked between her teeth. “But then there’s the whole thing about me now being unemployed.”
“What about your studio?” Carter asks, his brow furrowing.
“It’s not mine anymore,” she says, as if she didn’t just blow my entire world to smithereens with four single words. “So, I’m homelessandjobless.” She hisses air through her teeth, her gaze locking with mine. “You wouldn’t happen to know someone who can help a gal out of a pickle like this, would you?”
Is it cool to kick your feet and squeal as a thirty-one-year-old man?
I swallow hard, ignoring the little voice telling me to just do it anyway. “Maybe.”
She arches a brow, her steps measured as they carry her across the control room. She stops between my spread legs, arms dangling at her sides. “Yeah?”
“You gave up your studio?”
“No.” Her lips twitch. “I just let go of a dream that didn't belong to me.”
I curl my fingers around her hips. “And your house?”
“I outgrew it.” She slips a hand around my neck and pushes her fingers into the back of my hair. “But the thing is, London is real pricey. Who can afford a place in this city alone?”
You, a few times over too.
“Royalties looking a bit low lately?” I tease, my thumb dipping under her hoodie and tracing her skin. “That’s concerning.”
