She beams as I let her go and drop to her desk chair.
“What are you thinking for the chord progression?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
I grab her guitar off the stand and start strumming through a few combinations in the key of G. “I mean, your lyrics are killer. Now they just need the chords to go with them.”
“You… you mean like an actual song?” she asks, eyes wide.
“That’s exactly what I mean. What do you think of this?”
I play through a progression, then start tossing in variations while reading her face for reactions.
“Oh, I like that one!” she says, pointing at the guitar.
I grin. Me too. I play the progression she liked again, watching her face as she takes it in. I keep playing, over and over until she picks up the notebook paper and studies the words. Her lips move in subtle formations, and I hear the faintest sound of a melody.
“There. That.” I slap my palm on the strings, and she glances up sharply.
“What?”
“Sing that again.”
“Sing what?”
“Whatever you just sang for ‘without you, I’m not the one I meant to be.’”
She stares at me like I just asked her to do a thousand pushups with one arm.
“Sing it,” I repeat, playing the chords again.
“Um… I…”
She hums some inaudible tune.
“Louder. I can’t hear it.”
“I can’t… I don’t sing.”
“Bull crap. And who cares if it sucks anyway. We’re writing, not performing. Some of the best songwriters in the world can’t actually sing the songs they write.”
I play the progression again. She stares at me for another second before finally releasing the tiniest melody on meant to be.
“Okay, yes. That’s good. Now sing the whole line.”
Her back straightens a bit, and this time I can hear a clear melody for the full thing.
“Yes! Love it. But that’s not what you were singing before. The melody went down on you. Kind of like...” I sing a few different variations until her face lights up.
“That one!” she says, bouncing on her feet. “That’s the one.”
“I agree. Okay hang on.” I pull out my phone.
“What are you doing?”
“We need to record that bad boy so we don’t forget it. Then let’s start at the beginning.”
CHAPTER 16
HADLEY
“Morning.”
“Hey, Oliver,” I say, sliding the tea I brought for him along the kitchen island. Viv’s cappuccino is waiting for her in the carrier.
“Aw, you didn’t have to do that. Thanks,” he says, still looking groggy as he pulls out a stool. He takes a sip of his tea while I turn back to my laptop. “Viv will be down in a sec. She’s finishing up something with a… I don’t know. It looked like a medieval torture device and makes her hair all crinkled.”
“Crinkled?” I lift a brow.
“Like…” He waves his hand around in what I’m guessing is supposed to be a hair pattern.
“Gotcha,” I say, biting back a smile.
He huffs out a breath. “Whatever. You know what I mean.”
“The scary thing is, I kind of do.” I stare back at my laptop screen to review the day’s schedule one last time. “So I heard a rumor that a certain hockey player might be moving in this week,” I say casually.
A giant grin spreads over his face as he shrugs. “I’m here all the time anyway. It’s more practical if we consolidate. Plus, Sandy can finally have his basement back.”
“Ah. So this was a logistical decision.”
“Purely,” he says with a straight face.
I chuckle and punch his arm. “Good. I’m glad you two are being so logistical. It’ll be fun having you around more. Or the same, I guess.”
He smirks and shakes his head.
“Hi, Had!” Viv says brightly, entering the kitchen. Yep, her hair is indeed whatever Oliver’s hand motion was. I smile to myself. “Oh thank goodness,” she groans, grabbing the cappuccino. “What would I do without you?”
“Probably evaporate into cosmic dust,” I say without looking up from my screen.
“I would too,” she says to Oliver. “Hey, babe.” That one comes with a kiss I try to ignore. They’re unbelievably cute. Also annoying at seven in the morning. They saw each other three minutes ago.
“Hey, I gotta jet. We still on for tonight?” he asks.
“Absolutely,” she says in a sultry voice I can’t unhear. I need to start working with headphones on.
“Um… actually no. You’re not,” I interrupt.
They both glare at me like I’m the one who invented video conferencing. I hold up my hands and shrink. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. You have that video call with Lydia tonight.”
Viv grunts. “That’s tonight?”
“Yep. She has some ideas about promoting the band and getting you guys off the ground with a bang. You could probably still do dinner from five-thirty to six-thirty as long as you order in or do something quick.”
She scrunches her nose, making it clear that’s not her favorite idea of all time. “Actually, if that’s what she wants to talk about we should reschedule anyway. Julian should be there for any band business. Call her and set something up for when he’s… available.” Her eyes narrow at me. “What was that?”
“What?” I ask, my heart racing way more than it should be for our daily schedule review.
“Your face. It’s doing this blushy thing. You see it?” she asks Oliver.
“Yeah. I saw it. Happened when you said Julian.”
“Yes! There it is again!”
My face is on fire. I feel what they’re talking about. Problem is it’s also in my chest and pretty much everywhere else.
“Oh my gosh, you like him,” Viv cries, leaning way too far into my personal space.
“What? Pssh.” Yeah, I won’t be winning any awards for that response, but my brain stopped working the moment she said his name. I stare back at my computer and clear my throat. “Also, I’ll pick up that dress from--”
“Oh no. We’re not done here. I thought you couldn’t stand him. How many times has she told us he’s a jerk?” she asks Oliver.
He shrugs, more interested in his tea again. “That I’ve heard? At least fifty.”
“Whatever. He’s so not my type,” I grunt. Now I’m just clicking random things on my desktop for no reason. Maybe they’ll believe I’m doing something super important all of a sudden and let this drop.
“Um, he’s exactly your type,” Viv says, peeking around my screen. Crap. Busted. I stop clicking.
“I didn’t even know she had a type,” Oliver says.
“Everyone has a type, sweetie,” Viv says.
“Yeah? What’s your type?” he asks suspiciously.
“I think that’s pretty obvious,” she says softly, sliding her arms around his neck. He smiles back and yep, more kissing at the breakfast counter.