Camille’s voice blasts over the intercom, breaking into my thoughts. “All remaining contestants, please report to the family room for your next challenge.”
I blow out a breath.
I wish I still smoked because a cigarette sounds calming right about now. I gave that shit up years ago, though.
I’m the last to arrive, and Dax, Brody, Adam, and Rascal are all standing by the fireplace. Once I’m standing with the others, Dax starts talking. “The numbers are dwindling, and we’re excited about the six of you who are left. There’s so much talent standing across the room from us, and we’re all waiting for the day when one of you will be standing here in this line with us.”
I glance at Brody and Adam, and their faces are blank. Rascal, however, is nodding along like he’s either listening to a song in some hidden earphones and he’s dancing to his own beat or he’s really enthusiastic about what Dax is saying. I hold in a laugh. I feel like that guy is probably hilarious.
“As I told you before,” Dax says, “you’ll be paired with another contestant for today’s challenge.”
I know who my partner will be before he even says it.
I mean, of course it’ll be her. Why not push our buttons a little more for the sake of entertainment? Why not force us in a room to work together in the midst of us falling somewhere on the scale of love and hate at the same time?
“This is a big one, and two of you will be going home. It’s a two-part challenge. For the first part, you will have four hours to write an original song together. Lyrics are due at the end of those four hours, and they cannot be changed once they’re submitted. In addition, MFB will own all rights to your song. If you lose and we choose to record it, you release all copyright to us. For the second part, which will take place tomorrow after lunch, you’ll need to sing your song for us. That means creating the music to go with your lyrics, and you’ll have all night tonight as well as half the day tomorrow to do that.”
A chorus of groans follows that announcement. We’re not singers...well, most of us aren’t, anyway. I’ve done back-up vocals, but I know Decker can’t sing for shit. I’m not sure about the others, except Lexi. So maybe being paired with her for this challenge will actually work to my advantage.
“We’ll be looking at several things this time,” Dax says, “including your ability to write a song, how well you work with a partner under pressure, your teamwork skills, and, of course, your ability to sing back-up vocals or even to take the lead. You’ll be setting your song to a rhythm with your bass, so you’ll each be playing while you’re singing, and we’ll be looking at how well you can multitask while performing. We all realize that you’re competing for the spot of a bassist, so we aren’t necessarily judging you as a vocalist, but we are looking for someone who has a lot of versatility.”
He pauses, and my heart starts beating a little faster. I feel it thumping in my head as I wait for the next part. He glances at Brody in some sort of silent communication.
“Blaze, you’ll be paired with John,” Brody says.
“Decker,” Adam says, and I hold my breath and cross my fingers that he says my name. “You’ll be working with Tyler.”
Fuck.
“And Lexi,” Rascal says, “You’ll be working with Gage.”
I want to look over at her to see her reaction. I want to know if she’s happy about that or angry. I want to know if she feels deflated like I do or if she feels like we’ve got this.
Because I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to work with her when I saw her sleeping on Tyler’s chest last night.
Channel it into the song.
Yeah...easy to think it. Harder to do.
CHAPTER 35: LEXI
“Go!” Dax says, and I glance over at Gage warily.
I have no idea how the heck we’re supposed to work together on this when we both have such strong feelings for one another—regardless of what those feelings actually are.
I’ll put it all into the song. Maybe it can be a hopeful song about falling in love...or maybe it can be a depressing song about falling for someone only to discover later they’re somebody else entirely.
He looks as wary as I feel. He hasn’t moved yet, and his jaw works back and forth as he contemplates this new twist.
My eyes fall there to his jaw. Strong and square, with a little more of a beard than he had over the weekend. I remember what that jaw felt like beneath my fingertips. Warm skin met with the prickly stubble over the strong line while our lips touched.
A sudden and piercing ache darts through me.
How did we manage to fall so far away from each other?
And how are we supposed to write a song together when we can’t even look at each other?
The MFB men walk into the producers’ office and shut the door behind them. Decker and Tyler move toward the direction of the stairs, and John and Blaze leave next, heading down to the basement.
That leaves the two of us in the family room.
I look past him and out toward the beach, wishing the tumultuous waves were calmer today. Instead, they match my thoughts and the feelings warring within me.
Gage walks toward the piano. “Let’s do this,” he says.
He takes a seat on the bench, and I follow but don’t get too close. I don’t sit beside him.
He rests his fingers on the keys. “Can you play?” he asks.
I nod. “My parents put me in lessons at a young age. You?”
He lifts a shoulder and plays a few bars from a song I immediately recognize as one of MFB’s. “Self-taught.”
I can’t tell if he’s bragging or informing, but either way, his talent is impressive.
“What should we write about?” I ask. We only have four hours, and I don’t want to spend them talking about whether we know how to play the piano.
He shrugs and lets his fingers walk around the keys a bit. I discern a melody in his sketching, something a little haunting that feels like it’s speaking to my soul. “I was thinking we could come up with a melody first. I usually get an idea for a chorus first then build the rest of the song around that.”
“That’s similar to my own process.” Of course it is. That’s what happens when someone’s meant for you, isn’t it? Those little practices that are an everyday part of your life somehow just mesh together. Except he’s not meant for me, and he seems to be with Kat now, and this is all wrong. “Play that little sketch you just did again,” I say instead of voicing all those other thoughts.
He does, but it’s off a few keys. I lean over him and replay the sounds still echoing in my mind, accidentally brushing his fingers with mine in the process. “This is what you played.” Too late, I realize how close I am. I smell that clean, soapy scent that’s so intrinsically him and wish I hadn’t done that.
He leans back, too, clearly taken aback by my proximity.
I pull away and straighten back to a stand. “Sorry,” I mutter.
We’re both quiet for a beat, and then he breaks the awkward silence. “Can we talk before we start?”
I glance away from him. I feel like either way, this is going to be painful.
He pats the bench, and I finally sit beside him. He blows out a breath, and then he says, “We both want to win this, right?”