Page 200 of Key of Kink

The melody evolved through my fingers as the words continued to take shape, line after line, verse after verse, nothing grand or dramatic, only devastatingly honest. By the time I reached the chorus, my hand slowed.

The truth stared back at me from the page.

This wasn’t just a song. It was a confession.

On impulse, I picked up my phone from the coffee table where I’d left it. There was only one person I trusted to do this song justice. I opened my messages and typed.

For when you wake up. I want you to take a look at something.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Julian: What makes you think I’m asleep? And why are you awake at 3 in the morning?

I could ask you the same question.

I just got home. I got invited to a sex party. What’s your excuse?

I glanced at the notebook next to me. I wrote something.

Three dots.

Do I get any more than that?

I wrote a song.

Three dots. *That* kind of something.

I exhaled slowly. If I send it, can you look at it tomorrow?

The typing bubble appeared again.

Send it now.

This assumes you can read my scrawl.

I snapped a photo of the page and sent it. Thirty seconds passed.

This is beautiful. Is there music?

Yes.

Can you send that too?

Give me a minute.

I clicked on voice recorder, set my phone down, and played the whole thing. I sent the recording.

OK, I’ll listen in the morning.

I chuckled as I typed. It *is* morning.

We can talk about this in rehearsal. Night.

Apparently, Julian had run out of either words or steam.

I left my phone of the table and crept back to the bedroom. Quinn was still curled on his side, one arm stretched across the space where I’d been lying earlier.

I slid back into bed beside him, and within seconds he shifted closer, pressing against me.