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For some reason he thought Zara was going to think the same things. Was going to take Shelby’s side or question his perspective.
She hadn’t though.
And it was still confusing him.
But the confusion had slowly melted into comfort and now… Now he was always waiting to see her again. Waiting for her to let him know what she needed.
Because without knowing how, without being asked, she’d given him more than he knew he wanted. Space to feel, without telling him he was wrong. The ability to connect with music in a way that didn’t feel like a risk.
He was feeling things for her he had no business feeling. But he didn’t want to fight it. It was softer and more sincere than those spikes of electricity he’d experienced months and months ago.
It was all those things she’d given to him—given back to him—that gave him the confidence to seek out Shawn and see if he could help the kid out.
The young musician was sitting behind the drum kit in the dark. Not playing. Not moving. Just staring off into space, too much on his mind.
Nikki was right, he was too in his head. Asa could read it clearly from across the room.
“Are we jammin’?” Asa asked, picking up a nearby bass and plugging it in. He looped the strap over his shoulder.
“Huh?” Shawn shook himself out of his thoughts. “Oh, hey,” he said, finally seeing Asa.
Asa started tuning the bass. “What are we messing with today?”
Shawn huffed a laugh and tapped the drumsticks on the top of the snare. “I don’t know.”
The kid sounded so glum Asa wanted to hug him. But he knew from experience that wouldn’t help anything. Unless it was a hug from Zara, but that was beside the point.
Getting the bass sound where he liked it, he gave a few experimental thrums.
Shawn lifted the sticks and he poked at the inside of his cheek with his tongue. Asa waited. After a minute, Shawn started a beat, simple and easy.
There was a reason Asa enjoyed playing the rhythm section in a band. It was the heart of the song. Without it, the music was lifeless.
Shawn set the tempo and Asa provided the low-end sound of a tune they found along the way. Together they created a groove they got lost in.
How long had it been since Asa had just jammed with someone? Sure, he played the piano with Zara occasionally. But those weren’t his songs. Those were sounds well established by others and easy to fit into.
The rush of creating and collaborating came over him like a wild wave and pulled him out to the untamed ocean of possibility.
He wasn’t sure when he closed his eyes, but all he could see in his mind’s eye was miles and miles of open space. Unowned and undefined.
And words began to float through his brain. Snippets of ideas, words that conjured images of golden skin and bright eyes, delicate twists of lyrics that were just there, at the edge of where he’d been hiding.
He could almost touch them.
He had no idea how long they played. Sweat trickled along his hairline and his shirt stuck to his back. He glanced over at Shawn to see the kid wiping perspiration out of his eyes while maintaining the beat, his face flushed with exertion as he shot a lopsided grin to Asa.
Movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention.
Zara stood in the doorway.
He hadn’t seen her since breakfast on the terrace that morning. At the time she been in pajamas—sky blue with little white clouds on them. Her hair had been epically messy. She’d laughedat a joke he’d told about wishing he had dip for the chip on his shoulder.
Every time he saw her, he was stunned by her beauty. Whether it was in pajamas or in jeans or evening wear. She could wear anything or nothing and… fuck. His fingers slipped at the idea of her in nothing. He regained his rhythm and shook his head at himself.
He should probably look away from her. But he didn’t want to.
Her long black hair was down, the layers framing her face. She wore those three silver necklaces that seemed to be her daily staple. He couldn’t tell if she was wearing earrings because of her hair. Black leggings, a cropped Bon Jovi t-shirt, Doc Martins.
