Page 54 of The Spark

But I couldn’t regret a single second.

Now, as I walked into the studio, I was still carrying her with me—the feel of her fingers dragging down my spine, the way she whispered my name like it meant something bigger than either of us.

And I knew it did.

Taraj was already posted up in the studio, bobbing his head to a playback when I walked in. The moment he saw me, he gave me that trademark smirk.

“Yo, my guy. Overslept, huh?”

I grinned, dropping my bag on the floor. “Something like that.”

He shook his head, chuckling. “Better have been worth it. Label’s been on my ass about finishing this project.”

I slid into the chair, pulling up the latest session files. “We’re close. Let’s just get it how we want it. Not how they want it.”

“Facts,” he said. “They’re already tryna water it down. You know how they do.”

As we ran through the mix, his attention drifted. “Oh—and the album cover? I think I found my artist.”

I nodded once, already knowing what name was coming. “Yeah?”

“You know her… Amaya. Amaya Jameson,” he said, watching me from the side like he was checking for a twitch. “Caught her sketching that night you had her up here. She didn’t even realize I was watching. But what she drew? Man…”

I stayed quiet.

“She’s different,” he continued. “Her shit’s layered. Real emotion in it. And she’s fine as hell, too.”

My jaw flexed.

He saw it.

Then leaned back with a smirk. “That your girl?”

I hesitated—not because I didn’t know the answer, but because saying it out loud felt… big.

His grin deepened. "Damn. That hesitation says a lot."

I rolled my shoulders, keeping my voice even. "We go way back."

"Uh-huh." His smirk lingered. "And you cool with me sliding in her DMs?"

I didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

But he must’ve seen something shift in my face because he chuckled, holding his hands up. "Aight, aight. Relax. I ain’t tryna die today."

Damn right.

I forced a smirk, playing it cool. But inside? That shit was eating at me.

Because Taraj was right about one thing—Amaya was something deep. And whether I wanted to admit it or not, she wasn’t just some girl Iusedto know.

She wasmine.

Before I could take the conversation further in walked Tasha.

She was all curves and confidence, dressed in something tight, her lips painted deep red, eyes locked on me like a predator spotting its prey.

"You’ve been avoiding me."

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