Page 31 of Take What You Want

Walker opens his mouth to argue, but relents. He knows I don’t make rash decisions, and when I say I need time to think something through, I mean it.

“Just promise me you’ll actually think it over, okay? You may have a life in Boston, but you can have one here too. Me, Scar, Hayden, Carter, Nikolai…we’re all here. You’ll already have a support system.”

He’s right, but the last name he mentioned on that list is the same exact reason why I’m not sure if I can do it.

Because at least out in Boston, I’m not faced every single day with my biggest regret.

8

NIKOLAI

The deafening silence of the booth has been the only silence I’ve relished in. Outside of this space, I always need to feed into the noise. Whether it’s people talking, music thumping, waves crashing, wind roaring, I just need something to fill the quiet.

But here, isolated away from the rest of the world where it’s just me and a microphone, I welcome the silence. I usually hate the way that silence causes me to get stuck in my own head, but here, that’s where it works its magic. I need to get caught up in my head, be alone with my thoughts, and let my head and heart consume me entirely until it pours out in melodies.

Fuck, I’ve missed this. It’s been too long.

“Can we take the bridge one more time?” I ask.

The producer working on the single, Kyle, nods and gives me a thumbs up through the window that connects the booth to the rest of the studio. He queues the track back and the four-beat count-in thumps through my headphones.

The song has a sultry, pulsing undertone laid over a more radio-friendly, pop-influence beat. It’s not as much my style. I still prefer the more pop-rock, harder leaning edge that WhisperMe Nothings was known for. But this is a new chapter, a fresh start, and I’m trying to embrace it.

At least they’re letting me write my own lyrics. They tried to give me and Kerra a pre-written song, but the lyrics were so utterly empty and soulless that I convinced them to allow me a shot at rewriting them. The label wasn’t entirely convinced, until I proved that we could keep the same instrumental; just change the lyrics overtop.

They gave it their stamp of approval. As did Kerra.

And here we are. This is my first day in the studio laying down vocals for it, and goddamn, does it feel good to be back in here. It’s like one of my arms has been numb and it's finally regained feeling.

I sing out the final note of the bridge and slump against the wall with a smile. Kyle looks up from the soundboard and returns it.

“That one felt good,” I say.

He pushes the button that allows him to talk to me in here and says, “It was the best one yet. I don’t think we need another one.”

I nod. “What about the second verse? Think we should do another run on that one?”

Kyle opens his mouth to respond when the door to the studio opens and in strides a petite woman with her head buried in her phone.

Kerra. Her dark, maroon hair is cut in a sleek bob and not a single strand is out of place. Her lips are painted a matching shade of red and she’s wearing a black satin dress that looks like it’s supposed to be worn to bed and not out and about.

I hang the headphones on a hook next to the microphone and duck out of the booth. She turns her gaze on me as I enter the studio.

Her lips curl into a coy smile but I see the slithering edge that lies beneath it. “It’s good to see you again,” she purrs, opening her arms for a hug.

I give her a brief one to not be rude, but pull back the moment her hands start drifting down my back.

“Good to see you, too. How have you been?”

She flips a hand, her long, painted nails slicing through the air. “Better now that we’re finally getting this going. I thought you would never be ready to record.”

“I literally signed the contract last Monday.” That was only a little over a week ago.

“But then you wanted to rewrite the song,” she pushes.

I frown at her. “You gave your approval on it.”

“I’m not saying it’s bad. I like the changes. But the longer it takes us to get this song out there, the longer my reputation is laid out there to dry.”

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