Page 5 of Composed
She scoffs. “Please. The world would be lucky to have you creating. Your ideas are better than mine most of the time.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Tal.” I force a grin to my lips. “I just have a different perspective than you, that’s all. When you’re too close to it, you can miss the little things sometimes.”
“Well, if you ever decide to change careers, you’ll always have a job here.”
“Don’t I anyway?” I hike a brow.
I met Talia a couple of years out of uni, back when I was interning at a tiny studio in Sheffield. She was producing her first album, and I was the intern she probably shouldn’t have trusted to mix it. Turns out, we were a dream team.
When that studio tanked, we did what any slightly drunk, overly optimistic musicians would do—we decided to open our own.
Talia had the business savvy, I had the funds to sink into it, and somehow, Hendalia Studios was born.
Pretty sure the blended name came after one of her manyTwilightre-runs. It was only after I'd filed the paperwork that I realised she was joking.
“Yes,” she sighs dramatically. “I suppose you owning seventy-five percent secures your position.”
I roll my eyes. “Phew. Had me scared for a minute there.”
Talia scribbles in her notebook.
I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle my yawn.
Tipping my head back on the couch, my eyes slide shut as the music shifts. A soft, acoustic rock melody settles around us.
My muscles soften.
I massage my temples, sinking deeper into the cushion.
I'm floating somewhere between awake and asleep when a gritty, distorted lick spills through the speaker, followed by the rattle of a snare drum. My pulse skitters.
I jolt upright, heart thumping as I swipe blindly at the table. I snatch Talia’s phone up and push my thumb on the screen. Only the soft sound of Talia's humming remains when the device silences.
My stomach swims, the pizza curdling inside of me.
Talia cranes her neck, her brows knotting as she looks at me. “Are you okay? I thought you liked that song?”
I make a noise at the back of my throat, the echoes of the music still looping in my mind. “It’s just way too heavy on a hangover.”
And isn’t that the truth?
Nothing screams regret louder than the pairing of stale tequila and torn teenage dreams. There are only so many things a woman can deal with after a night of heavy drinking.
The universe shoving my biggest mistake down my throat, in the form of my rock star ex-boyfriend Cole Hayes, twice in one day without warning, isn’t one of them.
Chapter two
Cole • Now
The Quiet Things That No One Knows – Brand New
Thesecondwetouchdown at Farnborough, the heavens open.
I shove a hand through my tangled hair, gaze fixed on the blank pages in front of me. Eleven hours in the air and not a single lyric to show for it.
There was a time I couldn’t stop the words flowing, when still-to-be written music played on a constant loop in my mind.
Now, there’s only bitter silence.
