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“Of course…boss.”
I forced away the grimace that threatened to overtake my face, and Kurt left without another word.
That left me and Thalia alone. Something felt different.
Thalia released a deep breath, and I looked at her. She was visibly shaken, so I didn’t press her.
“Well, we’ve got the notebook,” I said, holding it up. “Let’s head back to the studio before Jackson loses his goddamn mind. I won’t even tell him how bad you were at the job.” I winked.
I turned and left the room, hearing a frustrated sigh come from Thalia, and I smiled to myself.
Chapter 7
Damian
AlthoughIpreferredcoldtemperatures, I knew freezing dry air was bad for my vocal chords. The studio was warmer than I would have liked as I sipped on some chamomile tea. The tea was recommended to me by one of the best singers in the world so who was I to argue? But it made me warm so I shed my sweatshirt, leaving just a T-shirt on.
I felt a few beads of sweat form at my hairline, but all I could focus on at that moment was the blue notepad on the table nearby and the microphone right in front of me.
“You ready, man?” Jackson asked from the other side of the double-walled glass of the booth, his voice coming out of the speakers attached to the ceiling.
I gave him a thumbs up. Behind him, I could see Thalia watching closely as I worked. She had mostly been running errands for the last couple of days, so this was her first time seeing me in the recording studio. Something about her presence made me a little…nervous? Was that even possible? But I imagined those brown eyes appraising me, judging my performance. My blood tingled with the awareness of her eyes and the way her arms were crossed across her chest. They deliciously pushed her breasts up, showing off the swell of the curves just above her V-neck T-shirt.
I tried to shake off the desire to slip a finger between the valley of her breasts and focus on the task at hand.
The backing track started playing a slightly catchy pop electronic beat. I picked up my notebook, where I refined some of the lyrics I wrote while on tour a couple of months ago, and focused myself.
“Here I am, bearing all of myself to you,” I sang, feeling the soothing effect of the tea on my vocal muscles as the words somewhat flowed out of my mouth. “Looking at the moon, I wish for things that won’t come true. ‘Cause I want you right next to me, but love, everyone but me is free.”
The chorus finished as the backing track stopped. There was a silence as we all let the music settle down. Jackson was sitting back thoughtfully, processing what was just recorded.
Then I looked at Thalia. Her mouth was open, but she shut it quickly when she saw me look toward her. I could feel the apprehension radiating from her even through the glass. A million thoughts appeared to be running through those captivating eyes of hers. Ineededto know what she wasn’t saying.
“I mean…” Jackson’s words cut my train of thought. “The lyrics are great, man. Really cuts deep. I just don’t think a synth-pop sound is what fits the words, you know?” He explained, playing the backing track once more, and it did sound a lot like bubblegum pop.
I suppressed a sigh as my voice started to come through with the instrumental, and while I did pretty okay, I simply wasn’t feeling the song. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but it wasn’t what I was going for. I wanted better.
I didn’t have as clear of vision for this album as I had in the past, which made this a little harder, but I knew for sure when something wasn’t hitting right.
I would never say it out loud, but I always hated the beginning stages of a new album. There was always a pressure to make something I had never made before, of course, but it wasn’t just that. Even after all these years, it was about finding my voice and what I wanted to get out into the world. I hated the back and forth. My feelings would constantly change.
I didn’t like this song today, but I was already betting with myself that tomorrow I might feel completely different about it. I would have a different perspective.
Art was always subjective, and my subjectivity had been a mixed bag for the past few months.
Jackson then spun around in his chair, facing Thalia.
“How about it, newbie? What are your thoughts?”
I could see her tense up, lips set in a hard, straight line like she was physically forcing her mouth to stay closed. I was guessing I’d pushed her buttons a little too hard the other day, and she was hesitant to tell me about my work.
I couldn’t help but smirk. But I really needed her to tell me what she thought. In this moment, Thalia was my most important critic.
“Oh, I probably wouldn’t know too much about –,” she started, waving her hand in dismissal.
“No. I want to hear what you thought,” I swiftly interjected. Hoping I didn’t sound like I was begging too much. “We’re in a creative process, after all. Everyone’s input counts right now.” I tried to soften the request and shot her a smile.
Thalia let out a small eye roll. I barely recognized it, but it was definitely there.
