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Being in your twenties is a time to explore. Austen is just now learning freedom for the first time. Life feels wide open for exploration. But your thirties are different. It’s when you consider settling down and maybe having a family. You’re usually a touch more settled at work, or you have a better idea of what you want to do with life. I’m much calmer after turning thirty than I ever was in my younger years.
The difference between Austen and me, it’s like a chasm. A deep pit. A Grand Canyon of sorts.
So yeah, our age difference is a fucking problem.
Add to that the issues with my career, Austen still being in college, my lack of writing inspiration, and you can see why I’m feeling overwhelmed. Christmas helped me feel a bit better, but now that we’re past the holiday, I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin.
“There has to be something you can do. Something that doesn’t involve you basically being sold off to the highest female bidder your parents find.”
“No bidding has happened,” I scoff.
I don’t need to see Tenn to know he’s rolling his eyes. Fucking drama king.
“Maybe not, but it’s like an auction house over there. Why are you even still in town? Austen and I left already. Smith and Zack are busy enjoying the break, so I know you’re not with them. Why not get back on a plane, go back to your beach house, and crank out the tunes?”
BECAUSE I CAN’T.
My throat burns from holding back the words. It does no good to tell him so. He doesn’t get it. Doesn’t understand the pressure I’m feeling at this stage of the game.
Sure, he was there when I got started. Hell, his love of film and his need to record my jam sessions are the reasons I even have the career I do. My label saw us playing, then reached out for a contract. It was fucking wild, and I owe a shit ton of it to Tenn.
But that doesn’t mean he gets me.
That he gets this whole issue.
Part of me knows it’s the pressure of being tied down that’s messing with the music. I know my muse is still here. It’s merely buried under the other emotions that have risen.
“I’m in town because work isn’t going well. I needed to get away from the beach house for a bit. Do something else. Mix it up.”
Admitting that much is easy. It’s the why and how that is complicating my life.
“Then come here.” His tone tells me he believes this to be the obvious answer.
“Come there? To Boston?”
“Cambridge technically. Though my place is in Boston officially. So yeah — come out here. Have some fun and maybe fix your work stuff. If you don’t have to be at the beach, then don’t be. Do what you want, Corrin. The beauty of being a rich and famous rockstar is getting to live life however you want to.”
I bark a laugh at the notion.
Nothing is how I want it.
I want the music to come. I want the words to flow. I want to feel like I’m in control of my life.
I want Austen.
Fuck me.
The thought comes rapidly, unbalancing me in a way nothing else does. Austen with his soft smile and toned body. Austen with his heart of gold and the urge to help others without asking for anything in return. Austen with his quiet strength I find all too appealing.
Austen. Austen. Austen.
“You there, bro?” Tenn calls.
I cough as I fight the erection my thoughts have caused. “Here. Good. Yeah.”
“So, you’re coming, right?”
Not yet, I’m not.
