Page 42 of Composed
“Not anymore.” I chuckle, tipping my head back. “I used to. Cole and I wrote most of their first two albums together.”
“Okay. And you’re writing again?”
“Maybe. If I can figure it out.”
“Where does London fit into this?”
I exhale a shaky breath. “Writing for anyone is a collaboration. Even if they don’t have much input in the actual production. Say for example, you’re writing for a pop princess. You’re less likely to write a politically steeped song, because that wouldn’t fit her vibe. Unless she’s more of a pop-punk princess.”
Riles lips twist as her fingers wiggle in her lap.
“Am I making sense?” I ask her.
“I think so. Personality matters with music?”
I smile. “Exactly. You can tell who an artist is through their music. So, if I’m just given a brief, I could work with it, but the spark that makes itthemis missing. Without that, the music is just that, it’s music. There’s no depth behind it, no emotion.”
“And you want emotion in music?”
“Yeah, at least most people do,” I tell her, waving my hands as if to really drive home my point. “Music is the soundtrack of life. Every song you hear, whether conscious or subconscious, is triggering. A memory, an emotion, a moment in time. Like when I hear the Moulin Rouge soundtrack, it triggers the memory of when you and I went to see the stage show.”
Riley lips tilt as she stares just past my shoulder. “You’re really passionate about it.”
I was, once upon a time.
“I like it,” she says, her cheeks round with a grin. “It’s like seeing a corner of you I don’t know yet. You should talk about music more often. You shine when you do.”
Fire licks at my cheeks.
I busy myself with searching for a larger holdall.
Riley taps her fingers against the wooden dresser. “So as we were. London, the band, Cole. Why do you have to go there? Can’t they come up here?”
“Aside from the obvious?”
She gives me a blank look.
“They’re rock stars, Riles,” I chuckle. She knows of Reckless Abandon—everyonedoes—but my best friend is more of a line-dancer than head banging type girl. “Like legit, world-famous. Cole popping in for a quick visit is one thing. Bring all four back in one go? You’re asking for a riot.”
“And the other point?”
“Huh?”
“You said aside from the obvious. I’m assuming them being famous is the obvious point?”
“Oh, right.” I stumble back as a black holdall careens from the top shelf of my wardrobe. “Carter’s got some stuff going on, apparently. So, it’s just easier for me to go down there for a day or two than them trying to squeeze in a visit up here.”
“Are you staying with Cole?”
“God, no. I’ll book a hotel.” I shake my head with a laugh. “Talk about awkwardness. The man and I can barely string a sentence together without me feeling like I’m gonna explode from the tension.”
“Because you still love him?”
I jerk back, my gut swimming. “I donotstill love him.”
“Okay.” She shrugs, accepting my answer without hesitation.
“It's just… things are strained between us, you know?” I try to explain, though it doesn’t feel quite right even to myself.
