“Good. What else?”
I think back to my studio this morning, the flutter in my stomach at the thought of meeting Joel again in a few hours to finish recording.
“My own music.”
Oliver looks downright smug when that slips out. I think he enjoyed hearing it as much as I enjoyed saying it. And I did. It made me more than happy. It made me feel free. Whole. Like a badass who could face an entire damn wall of mirrors if she wanted to.
“Speaking of… what are you doing tonight? Want to get a taste of my world?” I ask.
“First we’re going to record the lead vocal,” Joel explains to Oliver, handing him a set of studio headphones. My heart skips watching his awed expression as he takes the extra seat near the console. I love that I get to impress him for once. Joel adjusts his own headphones and runs a test clip of the track from the computer. Oliver’s eyes widen as his gaze shoots to me.
“Oh, shit. That’s you?” he says, louder than necessary because of the music blasting in his ears. Music I can’t hear since I’m the only one not with headphones at the moment. Mine are waiting for me in the iso booth on the other side of the glass. “This is amazing. How is this not finished?”
“It’s just the reference track,” Joel says.
“It’s a rough vocal so the other instruments can follow along while they record their parts,” I explain further. “We’re going to do the real vocal now that the rest is recorded.”
“Damn. So this next version will be even better?”
I grin and nod, studying every detail of his face. Gosh, he’s beautiful. So strong and fearless, and yet secure enough to be honest in his wonder and appreciation of the things he loves. If Joel weren’t sitting here, I’d be in his lap right now, ripping off those headphones and giving him a private concert—with a lot less clothing. Even now, my gaze slips to the definition of his body through his t-shirt as he adjusts in the chair. He’s become my muse in so many ways. I catch his eye just to coax another heart-stopping smile to take with me into the booth.
His grin lingers in my mind as I turn the corner to enter the smaller soundproof room. I slip the headphones on once I’m inside and position myself in front of the mic. My phone buzzes, and I glance down to see a text from Oliver.
You’ve never looked as beautiful as you do right now. My heart. I blink down at my yoga pants and oversized sweatshirt. My hair is twisted up in a messy bun, and I hadn’t bothered with makeup today. I couldn’t look more casual, but when I peek through the glass to meet Oliver’s intense stare, I feel like a runway model. He’s definitely looking at me like I devoured him a moment ago. My pulse picks up, blood surging hot to my belly as I imagine him stripping off his shirt and looking as beautiful as I’ve ever seen him through the glass. I have to drag my gaze away to focus on the task at hand. Joel is here and his time is valuable. Maybe asking Oliver to join us wasn’t a great idea. I smile to myself, considering the fun we could have in an iso booth.
“Can you hear me okay?” Joel asks through the talkback mic at the console.
I give him a thumbs-up through the window. “Loud and clear,” I say into my own mic.
“Good. I’ve got you too. Let’s do a full run-through to get you warmed up, and I’ll get some levels.”
“Sounds good.”
I clear my throat and shake out in front of the mic. The click track bursts into my ears a second later with a count-in to the intro. My original vocal track has been muted, and I come in on the first word with a breathy “unremarkable.” How many hours have I spent in a studio? And I’ve never felt as nervous as I do now. Because of Oliver? No, his presence always soothes me. Maybe it’s because it’s my own song finally coming to life. After this session, my experiment becomes art. A choice I will have to bury or share with the world. Either way, I hear the nerves in my voice on the opening lines and can tell from Joel’s expression that he hears it too.
“You’re doing great,” he encourages at one of the vocal breaks. “Try to relax.” I glance over at Oliver who looks mesmerized but at ease, like he belongs in that chair, supporting me. In a flash, I see future years of this. Countless albums with him in that chair, urging me to be the best version of myself. Me in the stands, living and dying by every play on the ice. He tosses a smile that immediately soothes my nerves. I melt a little and close my eyes, imagining myself leaning into his chest as he stands behind me, his heavy arms wrapping me in a cocoon of security. The next verse comes out much more confident. By the final chorus, I’m nailing it like I’ve been singing this song my entire life.
“Yes! That’s it, Gen. Give me that for the next take,” Joel says.
“She’s amazing,” I hear Oliver say beside him.
“She’s doing great. She was born to sing this stuff,” Joel returns. “Hey, Gen, you feel good?” he directs back to me. “I’ve got everything set. You ready to do this for real?”
I’ve never been so ready for anything in my life. “Yep, all good.”
“Great. Let’s start with the first verse and work our way through line by line until we get what we want. Sound good?”
“Bring it,” I say.
Joel leaves our session as excited as he was after our initial meeting. He’s going to find someone to track the backing vocals and
