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“Oh, I would never touch a woman if she didn’t want me to,” Rhys says, holding his hands up in the air. He’s already backing away from me, a grin taking over his expression. “But that hasn’t really been much of a problem for me in the past.”
“Are you bragging about your dick again?” Another guy, this one American, walks into the recording studio, rolling his eyes at Rhys. “How many times are you going to make us listen to stories of your conquest, Oh Great Fucker of Women—”
The stranger then realizes I’m there, turns to look over at me, his shocked green eyes meeting my gaze. He blushes for a moment, his mouth snapping shut as he runs an anxious hand through his cropped dirty-blond hair.
“Jeez, I’m sorry,” he starts. “If I knew that we had company, I never would’ve started with—”
“I’m Alyssa,” I interrupt with a small smile.
He returns my smile, offering me a small nod, too. “You can call me Cameron, or just Cam for short.”
And I have to force myself to break eye contact with his perfect,perfectface, those green eyes reminding me of my favorite moments during hikes in the woods, the way the light hits the grass and plants, making it seem like I’m so much closer to the natural world. Cameron’s energy is different from Rhys’s. On the surface anyway, he’s already a lot less chaotic. He seems thoughtful. Considering the way he’d stopped himself from cursing up a storm when he’d noticed that I was in the room, especially. His clothes aren’t typical rock star either. He’s wearing a white tee and a blue hoodie that sets off his eyes perfectly, but it seems like an accident.
He seems gentler, too. He feelssafe.For a moment, I yearn to reach out and hold his hand, eager to have some of that safety for myself, my nervousness about being in L.A. seeping away the longer I gaze at him.
I have to stop staring—it’s getting weird.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Another stranger suddenly walks into the room, twirling a pair of drumsticks between his fingers, the sticks swirling in the air as he moves. His dark hair is styled in a pompadour, over heavy brows and blue eyes. Only his full lips show any kind of vulnerability. His low voice is full of disdain. “Gregory, please don’t tell me that you’re trying to make literal superstars out of people who’ve never been in a studio in their life.”
“I wouldn’t be so fast to discredit Ms. Smith, Van,” Gregory replies carefully. “For starters, she’s already miles ahead ofyou, simply by making it to the studio on time.”
Van?
What the hell?
Is everyone in this band going to be completely gorgeous? Is that some kind of requirement for joining the band in the first place?
I take a second to look down at my outfit, frowning to myself. If I would’ve known that being hot was a requirement to be in the band, I definitely would’ve tried a lot harder when it came to my clothing choices. How am I supposed to take over as a lead singer for these guys when I’m currently the least good-looking musician in the room?
I squint to get a better look at him, taking in his dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, the way he seems annoyed at the fact that we’re breathing the same air. Van is staring back at me too, full lip slightly curled. He’s observing me more like he’s looking at a pile of yesterday’s trash, wondering if he should take it out before the smell gets too much worse.
“I’m Alyssa—” I start.
But Van cuts me off, already shaking his head. “I know who you are. I saw your songs on the charts, so I checked them out.” He takes a step closer to me. “So what? Were you Geesha’s assistant or something? Is that why she covered your so-called song?” He holds up his hands in air-quotes, still clutching the drumsticks. “Trying to give a hanger-on a chance?”
“That’s not what happened—”
“You’re clearly an amateur, Alyssa,” he continues. “No offense, but I don’t think you’re cut out to be a real musician. Not very many of youonline-famoustypes can really hack it when it comes down to it. You just don’t have what it takes,” he sneers.
Excuse me? Did this asshole I just met five seconds ago try to tell me that I don’t have what it takes to make it in the music business?
Everything in front of me goes red. I take a step toward Van. Some distant part of me is screaming that I should take a moment to calm down before I say something I regret, but there’s just something about this arrogant S.O.B. that’s making me want to force him to eat his words just as fast as he’d spoken them to begin with.
“Funny,” I reply, my words coming out in a hiss. “You’re saying that I don’t have what it takes, and yet, you and I are standing in the exact same studio. If I don’t have what it takes,Van,what do you think that says about you?”
“Blimey!” Rhys chuckles. “That’s right, Alyssa. Tell him to fuck the fuck off.”
“Don’t get too full of yourself just yet, princess.” Van scoffs. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
“And you don’t know a damn thing about me,” I reply. “Because if you did, you’d know that I’m the furthest thingfroma princess. You would know how hard I had to work to get here—”
“We all had to work hard, princess,” Van emphasizes, interrupting. “You’re not special.”
“My name isn’t ‘princess,’” I correct through gritted teeth.
“Hey, before this pair starts in with the fisticuffs,” Rhys says, as he places his shoulder halfway between Van and me. “Can you tell us what the plan is here, Gregory?”
“The plan is for you all to work together,” Gregory answers, thick eyebrows raising and a small smile appearing on his wide face. “Alyssa Smith is going to be the new lead singer of the band.”
