Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“…You think I’m pretty?” Her voice is small and vulnerable.
Shit. How the hell had that slipped out?
I need to be more careful with what I say around Alyssa, or else she’s going to make the mistake of thinking we’re anything other than coworkers with a job to do.
“Don’t miss the point,” I say harshly. “We should focus on getting a song written.” I change the subject as I grab a free pencil and offer it up to her. “Got anything on your mind?”
“Actually, I do,” she beams, before she stands from the desk. “Here. Let me sing a little bit of it, and you can tell me what you think?”
“Go for it.”
♫ And you’re so cool that it’s crazy ♫
♫ And you’re so wild that it’s perfect ♫
♫ I’m dancing on the edge of disaster, baby ♫
♫ When I break, I’ll know it was worth it ♫
“Dancing on the edge of disaster?” I ask, once she sits back down in her chair. “What’s that all about?”
“It’s just about doing something that you know is probably going to blow up in your face, sooner rather than later,” she explains. “Getting close to someone when you already know it’s doomed before it even really starts.”
“Based on an old boyfriend?”
“Not a boyfriend, exactly,” she replies. “And it’s just something that came to me.”
“…I like it,” I admit. “It’s memorable, the way you’re singing it. We should do something about the rest of the verses, though.”
“Thanks.” She smiles. “How about we both write a few lines and compare as we go along?”
“That works for me,” I reply, my hand already scribbling something down on the sheet. The next few moments between us pass in utter silence, both of us focusing on getting down the rest of the lyrics. Although, unlike what I’m used to when I’m forced to collaborate on a songwriting project, the silence between us isn’t one filled with dread and annoyance.
It’s a comfortable silence, almost like Alyssa and I have been writing songs together for years instead of this being our very first attempt. Soon enough I find myself smiling, thinking about the contrast between our fighting during rehearsals to the calm in which we exist right now. I’m sure the rest of the band wouldn’t be able to believe how easy we were being with each other, assuming that a songwriting session between Alyssa and me would end in yet another shouting match they could hear all the way down the hall.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Alyssa asks, breaking the silence.
“…What?” I look up from the lyric sheet.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” she continues. “I was just…you seem like you’re so dedicated to songwriting and the band. You care so much about it. I was just wondering if there’s anyone else you might care about, too?”
“I don’t like distractions, princess.”
“Well, I mean, I can see how having a girlfriend could be a distraction, but still—”
“I meant, when I’m working on a song,” I clarify. “I don’t like distractions. Let’s just keep our questions to ourselves until we’re done with this session, yeah?”
“…Fine.” Alyssa purses her lips and goes back to working on the song’s verses.
I take a moment to steal a few glances at her, my mind once again wandering, my thoughts now concerned with whether Alyssa spends her nights all alone or if there’s a distraction waiting for her whenever she leaves the recording studio. And even though I’m trying my best not to give a damn about what she does outside of these four walls, it’s starting to feel like a losing battle. My interest in her threatens to spill over into an actual conversation, one I have to force myself not to strike up between us.
Chapter 6
Alyssa
“Rhys…Rhys…” I groan for him for what feels like the millionth time, twisting and turning on top of his bedsheets. After our rehearsals were finished for the day, I came back to Rhys’s apartment, unable to keep myself from him even if I wanted to. My naked thighs are spread open for him as he lazily drags his fingers along my clit, his warm breath close to my shoulder.
“Fuck. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of you saying my name like that, darling,” Rhys murmurs.
I chuckle, and I turn to look over at him. “Yes, you will.”
Rhys shoots me an inquisitive glance. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that you’ll get tired of me eventually, Rhys,” I answer with a smirk. “You don’t have to do any of that, you know? Trying to convince me that this is something that it’s not.”
“You, Alyssa Smith, need to stop acting like you know everything.” He smirks right back, starting to shift down toward my waist. “No wonder you and Van are always trying to tear each other’s heads off. You’re pretty much the same person.”
“We are not!” I protest. “Besides, Van and I have somehow managed to get along lately,” I reply. “Even if I’m pretty sure he still doesn’t think much of me—fuck!”