Page 88 of Crimson Desires

“That was the closest you’ve gotten,” Ava said, stopping the recording. She bit her lip. “We don’t have forever in this studio. And if we want to release After Aster by the end of the week, I need as much time as possible to work on the production.”

“Are you saying we should accept a sloppy take?” I frowned.

“Dude. Nobody’s going to notice,” Zephyr said over the mic.

“I will,” I shot back. “I want this song to be perfect for her.”

Zephyr rolled his eyes. “Maybe you’re not feeling the passion because you’ve only known the girl for like, three weeks. I mean, seriously.”

“Fuck off. You know how I feel about her,” I said.

Zephyr put up his hands. “I’m not saying you don’t like her, man. I’m just saying that unless you’re a teenager from the fair city of Verona, love is pretty hard to achieve in less than a month.”

Ava shoved Zephyr away from the mic. “Look, let’s just take a break. Everyone’s getting snippy with each other, which means that it’s probably time for lunch.”

Through the speakers, I heard the guys mumble their approval.

“Let’s take an hour to reset,” Ava said. “Sound good, Jack?”

I relented. “Sounds good. But I’m going to stay in the studio. I don’t want to lose my headspace.”

“Figured you’d say that. Okay, I’ll have someone bring you takeout.”

With that, Ava and the guys left. I walked out of the sound booth, picked up Axel’s guitar from the ground, and began strumming through After Aster.

After about twenty minutes of attempting to sing the song and failing, I heard a knock on the studio door. I rose to my feet and opened it.

Aster stood on the other side.

“Delivery,” she said, a small grin on her lips. She poked her head into the studio, her eyes taking in the space. “Wow. This is cool.”

A pit grew in my stomach. “Shit. I’m sorry, Aster. If I’d known that Ava would have asked you to get my lunch...”

“It’s no problem,” Aster said. “I volunteered, actually. I was finished hanging out with the crew, and I wanted an excuse to see you.”

“Really?” My lips quirked into a grin.

Aster rolled her eyes, shoving my takeout bag into my chest. “And the studio. Obviously,” she said. She pushed past me into the space, timidly eyeing the soundboard at the mixing station.

“Don’t touch that,” I warned her. I reached into my bag and withdrew my food: spring rolls and General Tso’s chicken. “Ava’s got everything leveled. If it gets messed up, she’ll kill someone. Probably me.”

Aster chuckled. “Okay. Noted. Can I hear the song you guys are working on?”

I felt my cheeks flush. It wasn’t like I’d never written a song for a woman before. It wasn’t even like I hadn’t sung a song that I’d written for a woman before.

But something about singing my song about Aster to her made my stomach twist in knots.

What if she doesn’t like it?

What if it’s too much?

And the worst: What if she doesn’t feel the same way?

I sat down in Ava’s chair and wheeled myself over to the computer. I knew my way around production interfaces—enough to play a song, at least. I muted my vocal tracks before clicking play.

Aster bobbed her head along to the backing track, her brows drawn in slightly as she absorbed the music.

Once the song was finished, she turned to me. “I like it so far. But where’s your part?”

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