Page 137 of Composed
I purse my lips, pretending to ponder it. Truth is, I’m not going to deny her anything. Even if Riley is biased. If Hendrix wants her to judge our songs, then that’s how it’ll be.
Hendrix blinks, inpatient as she watches me.
“Okay.” I lift a shoulder, exhaling dramatically. “Riley can judge.”
She claps her hands and grins.
I push up to standing and drag her up with me.
“Rules?” she asks.
“No changing the beat,orthe melody.”
“You’re never going to get over me kicking your arse when we wroteNeon Daydreamsare you?”
“Never.” I flick her nose. “You changed the whole composition.”
“It sounded better.”
“Rixie,” I deadpan.
“Fine.” She stomps her foot. “No changing thebeat or melody.”
“And no distracting the other. We play it fair, or we don’t play it at all.”
“What does the winner get?”
“First to finish gets to pick the film we watch tonight. Then we'll come up with something for song winner later.”
Her eyes glimmer. “I don’t recall agreeing to watch a movie with you.”
“Well, you have all those Tony’s pizzas to get through so…”
She props her hands on her hips, her fingers tapping over the slither of bare skin peeking between from her T-shirt. “Ok, Rock Star. I hope you’re ready to watchMoulin Rouge, because I’ve always been a faster writer than you.”
“Baby, you’ve been out of the game for a long time.” My fingers buzz when I squeeze her hip. “I’ve got this in the bag.”
Hendrix leans back on my couch wearing only an oversized shirt and fluffy socks. Her eyes are bright, her grin wide.Moulin Rougeis cued up on the TV, snacks cover the coffee table, and
She waves the remote in the air like a trophy. “Is this the part where I say I told you so?”
I grunt.
I fucking lost miserably.
Hendrix was on the bridge of her second song before I even reached the outro of my first.
I peel my jumper over my head and toss it into the armchair.
She shifts across the couch when I drop down, and hugs her knees to her chest, planting her cheek on her knee.
I’m not sure what I expected when I invited her into my flat. Awkwardness, maybe. But it wasn’t the ease in which she settled into my space. Shejust kicked off her shoes and made herself right at home in my living room, as if she's done it a thousand times over.
I’d be lying if I said I hated it.
“I still can’t believe you wrote two songs in six hours,” I say.
“What can I say, I’ve been feelinginspired.”
