We made it clear from the fucking start that just because we’re from a small town and don’t come from money, that we’re not willing to sell our souls to this industry. And if they couldn’t accept that from the get-go—if they weren’t willing to meet us halfway, despite how risky it could be for them financially—then we walk. Simple as that.
Either we’d find someone else to back us, or we’d go indie. It didn’t really matter to us, so long as we got to keep making music.
“If you ever want to strip that song down and do an acoustic version, let me know,” is all he eventually says. There’s a look in his eye I can’t really place. He glances down. “It’s too personal as it was. I get that now.”
My brow furrows.Does he though? What changed?
But then my eyes catch on the guy still seated across the room, blue eyes twinkling my way, and I realize,Oh.
Maybe that’s what changed.
Scrubbing his jaw, Paul looks away. “You’re not the first sad saps I’ve worked with, believe it or not.” He chuckles quietly, almost tiredly. “But it’s my job to try and push you, okay?” He turns to face me once more, brown eyes more serious than I’ve ever seen them. “To see who you are outside your comfort zone, whatever that is.”
My throat dries at what he’s saying, what he’s implying.
Next to me, Mason shifts, brushing my shoulder with his, telling me he’s drawing the same conclusions.
Paul smiles. “You call the shots. The three of you. That never changes.” He pauses, glancing at each of us, Shawn included, who has now joined our side. “I never wanted to be a sell-out either, and I’d like to think I’ve been successful so far. My loyalty is to you, never the label. Okay?”
I nod, and in my periphery, Mason and Shawn do the same.
He bounces his gaze between the three of us. “I could tell something was off, but I knew you needed to figure it out yourselves, figure out whatyouwanted, and see outside the expectations of everyone around you.”
Bryce gives a firm nod, backing Paul’s words up.
“As much as I—weappreciate you trying to appease the powers that be…” he trails off, shaking his head. “It’s not necessary. But…” Again he trails off, but this time a smile crawls its way up his cheek. “I’m really fucking happy with what came out of it. So maybe a little pressure is good, yeah?”
Mason chuckles as I roll my eyes.
“Yeah,” I tell him. “It’s good.”
He claps his hands together, rubbing them. Turning to say something to Bryce, he waves Mason over to the deck to have a listen. He probably means for me too, but that can wait.
This can’t.
Will sits sprawled on the red leather couch on the opposite side of the room, arms stretched over the back. Legs spread. His head cocks when he sees me striding toward him, dark wavy blonde hair curling over his eye.
Fuck, my boyfriend’s hot.
“Hey there, Cupcake,” he says easily, his voice deep in that naturally smoky timber of his.
For half a second, I consider just plopping down on his lap. But we’re far from alone right now, and I’m notthatcomfortable with PDA yet. Especially of the lap-sitting variety. Probably never will be.
So instead, I settle for plopping down next to him, throwing a leg over his. Resting my arm just next to his on the back of the couch, I search his face as I ask, “How was it?”
His mouth ticks up as he tilts his head side to side in a so-so gesture. “I mean, I’m a little biased.”
“Only a little?”
His grin widens. “It was fucking perfect.”
I suck in my cheeks, holding back a smile of my own.
“I mean,” he says, “don’t get me wrong, I’m definitelywaymore biased when it comes to the original.”
Rolling my eyes, I huff a short laugh through my nose, remembering how I played it for him and only him last night.
After we finally managed to pry ourselves away from the bed yesterday, we met up with the guys for a late dinner once they were done in the studio, and got Will all caught up on what’s been going on. Or rather, what’snotbeen going on.