Page 30 of The Spark

No explanation. No reassurance. Nothing. I stared at my screen, my chest tightening with unease. I felt a pull so strong it scared me—like if I didn’t see him, I’d drown in whatever this feeling was.

And before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed my purse, called an Uber to avoid having to find parking, and headed to the studio.

13

Ishouldn’t have come. I knew it the moment I stood outside the studio door, staring at the keypad. The building was locked up for the night, but I knew Amir was inside. I could feel him, like a pulse thrumming through the walls, vibrating through my bones.

I took a breath, pressed the buzzer, and waited. My heart pounded in my chest, loud and fast, almost drowning out the beat of the music coming from inside.

A moment later, the door buzzed open. I stepped in, letting the heavy metal door close behind me. The music grew louder, the bass thumping through the hall. It was late, the building deserted, but the studio at the end of the corridor was lit up.

As I walked closer, the music swallowed me whole. It was like walking into a heartbeat—thick, pulsing, relentless. My own heart matched the rhythm, every step bringing me closer to him. I could smell him before I even saw him.

The door to the studio was slightly ajar. I nudged it open and stepped inside. The space was dimly lit, the glow from the control panel casting long shadows across the room.

Amir was seated in front of the board, head nodding to the beat, fingers tapping against the surface, lost in his world.

He didn’t turn around. Didn’t speak. Just reached over, turned the volume down, and leaned back, eyes sliding to me like he already knew it was me.

And when his gaze met mine… I felt bare. Open.Remembered.

His eyes didn’t rush. They took their time. From my face to the curve of my breasts beneath my too-short top. Down to my stomach, my skirt, my thighs. That quiet intensity in his stare made my skin tighten.

His jaw flexed. Tongue wet his lips.

Then his eyes locked on mine again, full of hunger and somethingdeeper.

"Why did you come here, Amaya?"

His voice was low. Rough. Tethered to memory.

The music was still loud, the beat thumping through my chest. I stepped closer. “What?”

He turned the volume down again—just enough to hear the weight in his words.

“Why are you here?”

My fingers twisted the strap of my bag. “I just… wanted to make sure you were okay.”

His expression said he didn’t believe me.

Didn’t press it either. Not yet.

He turned the volume back up, the rhythm filling the space between us. I moved closer.

"I like this beat," I murmured.

“Been working on it all day for Raj. Something’s off,” he said, not looking at me. “Trying to figure it out.”

I watched him, the way his jaw moved, the way his forearms tensed as he leaned forward.

“Is that why you didn’t come home?” I asked quietly.

His gaze lifted, meeting mine with precision.

“What difference does it make? You were the one avoiding me first.”

I opened my mouth to push back, but the truth got in the way.

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