Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
The industry is evolving, but Harley and Ryder have had years of “You should do this” or “You shouldn’t show this side of you” to get over.
“So, schedules permitting,” Harley says, “we’re hoping to spend the rest of summer and part of the fall writing while Blake’s doing his movie.”
Blake uses his Coby Godspeed I’m about to kill you face. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
I grin. “You’re welcome. Who knows, you might like kissing Jordan.”
He waves me off. “It’s not the gay stuff that I’m worried about. It’s mainly how the public will react to it. Homophobes might stop watching Coby Godspeed, the queer community will hate that I’m a straight dude representing a gay guy … There’s a lot more to be worried about than kissing Jordan Brooks. I’m comfortable enough in my heterosexuality to get the job done.”
“Famous last words,” I mutter.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Anyway,” Harley cuts back in. “We write and record for the album, drop a single or two over winter, and then tour next summer. Next year will actually be the ten-year anniversary of our first album, so it’s perfectly cheesy and symbolic.”
Straight back to business as always. We may mock him and mess with him about all this stuff, but I trust him to get the job done right. He’s meticulous, like he says, but it’s because he cares so much. I want that in my corner.
“Mason already has some songs,” Denver says, and I swear I’ve never glared at him harder.
“No, I don’t.”
Denver nudges me. “Yes, you do.”
“Let’s hear them,” Harley says.
They’re all going to pay for this. “I lost them. Oops.”
Every set of eyes land on me.
“There was a fire.” I gesture an explosion with my hands. “Poof.” They don’t believe me. I throw my hands up. “Fine. But remember that you said we’re allowed to do our own sound. I recorded this in Denver’s music room, so the quality is crap, but you get the gist.” I take out my phone, but instead of going to where I have actually recorded rough tracks, I pull up YouTube and type in the search bar “Songs with animal sounds” and click one of the top results.
Then, as a version of “What is Love” comes through the small phone speaker, I watch as every single face in the room drops. I have to bite my lip to stop laughing out loud.
“I’m really proud of it,” I say, my voice only cracking a little. I’m surprised I even manage.
Harley presses his lips together, probably trying to choose between telling me to fuck off and remembering that I haven’t actually signed a contract yet. “It’s … uh … interesting.”
Right as he says that, a rooster crows in the song, and I lose any composure I had left. I completely let my laugh fly, and then suddenly, Denver’s decorative pillows he has on his couches are being thrown my way. From everyone in the band.
“Asshole!” Harley says. “I thought you were serious. I’m sitting here trying to remind myself that I’d give you creative freedom!”
I’m still laughing, so much so, I’m too distracted to notice Denver going for my phone. “No!” I try to get it back, but he holds it above his head.
When I climb into his lap, he throws the phone to Harley.
I stand to go after him, but he calls for Brix, who immediately steps in my way. I have to stare up at him. Has he always been that tall and wide?
“Mase,” Harley says. “We’re going to be a team, and I promise we won’t tear your songs apart.”
I slump because that’s not actually what I want at all. “No, you should. I can take the criticism. I want to put out the best songs. I just don’t think my songs are that.”
Harley steps around his boyfriend and stops in front of me. “Show us.” He holds out my phone for me.
I sigh and pull up one of the songs I was working on while Denver was on the Fandom set and I was playing around. I have to close my eyes as I hit the Play button, and as my words about finding a soul mate in a best friend filter through the room, I refuse to look at Denver.
It’s a pure love song. It’s a queer anthem. It’s not what I set out for it to be when I started writing it, but … that’s where my muse led me, I guess.
Denver stands and slowly approaches me. “Is this about me?” His voice is low, but I have no doubt everyone can hear him.
I’m uncomfortable doing this in front of all of them, but I don’t want to belittle us by cracking a joke.
Instead, I speak from the heart. “You know it is. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I love you with everything I have.”