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ANDRÉ
“Oh, André,” she said softly as she closed her eyes. “It’s the God damn pressure of it all.”
And then she was out.
It was her final words before she fell asleep that had him perplexed.
Of course, he understood she would feel a certain amount of pressure. It just made sense for when someone was on the path of everything she’d been striving for. Pressure was a privilege.
But he couldn’t shake it.
He kept coming back to her words again and again in between reliving the hottest kiss of his life.
As far as he could tell, she hadn’t told anyone else her big news before she’d gone home. Not Johnny, not Asa.
André hung around the studio for as long as he could, thinking she might come back after she’d rested a bit. He finished cleaning up his tools and any debris still floating around. By lunchtime he was looking for something to keep him busy.
By the afternoon he decided to check on her.
If she didn’t want to talk about the record, then maybe she’d want to talk about that kiss they’d shared.
Or maybe they didn’t need to talk about it at all. Maybe their bodies would do the talking for them.
He knocked on the front door and after a couple minutes Asa opened it. He stepped aside to let André in.
“Is she awake?” André asked.
He still wasn’t sure where he stood with Asa. They weren’t friends, that was clear. But were they enemies?
Time would tell.
“Awake?” Asa scoffed. “She left two hours ago.”
André squinted at him because what he’d said didn’t make sense.
“Where did she go?”
Asa waved a hand and let out a disgruntled sigh.
“Her dad called, and they were visiting and the next thing I know she’s packing a bag. Said she couldn’t let her seventy-year-old father reroof his house. She called Johnny and took the rest of the week off.”
André pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Did she happen to mention that Zara Lorna wants to schedule studio time as soon as possible?”
“What? No.” Asa gasped. “That’s fucking awesome!”
André waited for it to catch up to him.
“Wait. Then what the fuck is she doing going to the lake house?”
André ran a hand through his hair and let out an exhale from deep in his chest.
It had finally clicked. Her remark about the pressure. That’s why he couldn’t let it go.
“We’re the fucking same, Asa,” André said. “Me and Nik.”
He looked up at the ceiling as his mind raced with all the weird shit they’d both said and done over the years. It was almost too much information to process all at once and his ears started to ring.
“Here she is on the edge of absolutely getting her life where she wants it, and she’s doubting her ability to make it happen. It’s like we share the same horrible strain of imposter syndrome.”
