Page 120 of Red Hot Harmony

It was a shy movement, but I clung to it, my thumb hooking around hers.

For a while, we just stood there, watching and listening.

The notes, harsh at first, soaked the room like water into a sponge, making everything around us heavy, full of sounds.

I hadn’t seen the glint that was currently in Frank’s eyes for the longest time. It reminded me of those very first years of Hall Affinity, when the novelty of creating something together was still a breath of fresh air and not a chore.

Ally ripped through a few progressions, her face twisted in concentration at the beginning and finally relaxing as she fell into rhythm with the music.

The door to the studio wasn’t closed all the way, and at some point, Cassy’s silhouette entered my line of vision.

She leaned against the doorframe and waited until Ally finished the piece.

Frank clapped and shot me a glance. “You’ve got yourself some competition, Dante.”

“Wow!” Cassy entered the studio and perched on one of the stools in the corner. “You’re good.”

Ally was blushing, her cheeks the color of beets. “I’m still learning,” she said, absently fingering the strings.

Soon, the riff became more insistent, more prominent.

I recognized it from one of our sessions. It was an original with various tremolo picking parts, and we’d worked on that technique for weeks to get to the point where she could keep up with proper speed and accuracy.

Pride swelled in my chest.

After playing for a couple of minutes, Ally paused and looked up at us from beneath the curtain of black hair that had haphazardly fallen across her face.

Camille shifted next to me.

Fuck, I didn’t know where we stood just yet, but I was aware of every small movement, each quiet breath she took.

“Can you play some of your solo stuff?” Ally asked, preparing to hand me the guitar.

The request took me by surprise. I hadn’t really performed in front of Frank or Cassy or even Camille before in earnest. Not counting my ridiculous entrance at theDreamcatchersevent.

I was terrified of fucking up, terrified of my body and mind betraying me, embarrassing me, putting anexpiredlabel on my legacy.

Words of encouragement poured from everyone.

Cassy must have felt my hesitation. She was a cunning little fox. “I have an idea.” She grinned. “You should play together.” Then she was on her way out.

“Doll, I don’t know if that’s a good—” Frank attempted to stop her.

“Why not?” She threw her hands in the air. “He can just sign it after he breaks it in and we’ll repackage it.”

Less than a minute later, Cassy was back in the studio with a brand-new Strat, all white and shiny, not a cheap model.

“Frank and I got this for my brother for his birthday,” she explained as I examined the instrument. The simplicity of it reminded me of my first time touching a guitar.

“She’s stunning,” I said, running my fingertips over the smooth body before moving toward one of the chairs.

Ally helped me get plugged in. She was a curious little creature when she was surrounded by gear. Pedals, picks, cables, stands—it all interested her as much as the process of creating music itself.

“Are you sure it’s okay I’m playing the gift item?” I asked Cassy.

“If you can autograph it after you’re done, Ash will be thrilled.”

“I didn’t know he played.”

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