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“Oh, no,” I said quickly. “It’s not very far…I don’t think it sounds that great. I’m not getting far with the words, either.”
“I know the feeling,” Jackson laughed. “I worked on the same song for like, three fucking hours, and at the end of practice, they basically told me that we need to redo it. They said my lyrics and music don’t vibe well with what Tyson wrote.”
“Play it for me.” I scooted over, pulling my hands from the piano.
He took a deep breath, looking down at me. “Okay, but you can’t judge me. They’re wanting us to write a love song, and it’s just not…it’s just not working for me.”
“I get that,” I reassured him. “Just sing what you wrote, and we’ll see what happens. It’s been so long since I collaborated with someone.”
He pursed his lips. “You sang with that Mason guy.”
“Yeah, but we’ve never really written anything together.” I giggled. “Are you jealous?”
His mouth dropped open. “Me? Jealous? Hell no.” But the way his eyes dropped away from mine made my heart flip. “Anyway…” He began to play a soft, heartfelt intro.
“Wow, that’s lovely,” I commented, catching his eye. “I swear you’ve written some of the prettiest melodies I’ve ever heard. It’s a shame they get covered by all that guitar.”
He grinned at me. “That’s rock ’n’ roll, baby.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sing the song.”
“What if you’re someone I can’t go without? What if I’m someone you don’t want to talk about? And what if I’m falling for you…but I don’t want to.”
“Oh…” My voice trailed off. “I like that.”
“Yeah, that’s all I have.”
“Play it again,” I instructed him.
He laughed. “Yes, ma’am.” He played through it again, and I listened to the confliction in his voice—and I understood it.
“I think I might…I think I might have something,” I said carefully. “But I’m no pro like you.”
“Sing it.” Jackson kept his eyes on me, letting me take the vocals.
“What if you’re someone I can’t go without? What if I’m someone you don’t want to talk about? And what if I’m falling for you…but I don’t want to.” And then I continued, adding my own. “I catch myself, I tell myself, that we’re not supposed to be. You don’t even like me. But here we are.”
His eyes widened. “Jeez.”
“What?” Heat flushed my cheeks. “I know it doesn’t exactly fit, but—”
“It’s fucking perfect,” Jackson said, his voice dropping low. “It fits perfect.”
“I just meant with the phrasing.”
“Yeah, I think it works just fine.” He grabbed for a notepad and pen, scribbling down what I’d just sung to him. “Do you think we could keep going? And don’t worry, we’ll make sure to credit you. You’ll get all the royalties from it.”
I made a face. “I don’t care about royalties, but okay.”
“So…” His voice trailed off. “I talked with Maeve today, and she said that you’ve always been inspired by my music.”
My shoulders slumped. “Oh god, you have to be kidding me. Don’t let it feed your ego. Let’s just get back to writing. I’m sure you hear that all the time.”
He laughed but shook his head. “Yeah, but she said that you feel what I write. What did you feel when I just played that first part?”
I searched his eyes, seeing that he was being serious, looking to me for some sort of answer. “Um, I guess I just felt the internal conflict of feeling attracted to someone, but not wanting to be with them—and maybe that’s not even it as much as just warring with yourself. The piano was kind of dark, and you threw in the minor chord where I wouldn’t have expected it…”
He looked at me with an awe that I hadn’t ever seen from him before. “Damn, you’re better at reading people than you let on.”
