AllFreeNovel
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And so is Chris. I had vaguely heard of Eurovision before, but it’s not a reality show. It’s way bigger than that, and Chris’s band winning is a huge deal. According to some articles, they toured for several months before returning to Germany to write their next album.
I watch videos of the band, of Chris, until I hear the shower across the hall start up. It’s late, and I lay back, trying to clear my mind so I can fall asleep and not think about my rock-star roommate.
Zoe’s visitwas over too quickly. We did all the things we wanted to do; a spa day with manicures and pedicures, hiking, picnicking, shopping.
But every time we came back to the house, Zoe got nervous. She’d try to casually walk through the house to see if Chris was around, only to be disappointed when he wasn’t.
I kept us out of the house as much as I could, but when we were home, Chris stayed in his studio with the door shut. I would feel bad under normal circumstances, but I’m still upset.
When I return from taking Zoe to the train station, I drop the keys in the bowl on the kitchen counter and stare out the window. I’m in a bad mood, the specter of Chris’s fame hanging over me. I weigh my options: do I try to get some work done or completely give up on the day and binge-watch something?
A binge sounds good.
When I spin toward the stairs, my eye catches on a piece of paper pinned to the fridge.
It’s a drawing of a bunny sitting up. There are little movement lines that make me think the bunny is wiggling its nose. In front of it, the wolf lays on its back, belly exposed and tail tucked.
I’m sorry.
I hope you had fun with Zoe.
I have an idea. Come see me when you’re ready to talk.
The studio door is open and Chris is working on his laptop, so I knock on the frame. He wears over-ear headphones similar to mine, so he can’t hear me.
I shift to the side to catch his eye and freeze. On the screen in front of him is one of my videos.
Chris scribbles something on the notepad in front of him, and his foot taps a beat. When I’ve watched him work before, whatever’s been happening is in his head. Right now, it’s happening on paper.
I shift again, and Chris catches sight of me. He leans back and pulls off the headphones.
“Hey,” he says. “Did Zoe get to the train okay?”
I lean against the doorframe and nod. “Yup.” I wave the sketch in front of me. “You have an idea?”
His office chair wheels back, and he reaches to pull a stool over and pats it. “Sit.”
I sit.
“Here’s what I’m thinking. You’re looking for something to go viral to attract more clients for you, both for your Patreon and your private lessons, right?”
“Yeah.” I eye him. “This sounds like you’re procrastinating your own creative pursuits right now.”
“One hundred percent. But I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me.” I cross my arms on my chest. “I’m just mad that you didn’t tell me about your job. You let me feel . . . stupid, I guess.”
“Once again, I am so sorry. But hear me out. I didn’t tell you I was famous, so let me use that fame to help you.”
“I’m listening.”
“What about some kind of interactive yoga where every move corresponds to a different note or something. Like a jam session?”
“That idea requires both the musician to be familiar with yoga and the yogi to be familiar with music. You’re suggesting that I would basically create halfway decent music when I have no musical talent.”
“I mean, we could plan something in advance. The yoga routines you do have a repetition to them. You run through a series of poses and then repeat them, not unlike a song with verses and a chorus and a bridge, right?”
I tilt my head to read the pages in front of him, but he nudges me away.
