Page 76 of Knot Their Starlet

“Damn, you look...”

“Like shit?” Elijah chuckles. “Yeah, Leo and I slept here last night.”

“Well, I was going to go with tired, but you said it, not me.”

Elijah rolls his eyes before handing me a warm paper bag. “Got you your usual sandwich.”

“Thanks.”

Elijah leads me to the break room in the back.

Sprawled out on one of the plush couches is a frazzled-looking Beck. I instantly catalog the bags under his eyes, the nervous drumming of his fingertips, the fact that he’s still in the same outfit he was in last night.

The same outfit he wore to his first “date” with the omega. Andromeda Sterling.

“How’re you doing, Beck?”

“Oh, me? Well... good. Let’s go with good.”

“Sounds like a complicated answer,” I chuckle as I take a seat across from him as Elijah hands out the rest of the food and coffee.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Beck shrugs. “I’m just... nervous. I don’t think I’ve ever written like this before. Just worried it’s all shit.”

“Well, something being bad isn’t the end of the world. Takes time for the Earth to make a diamond, and all.”

“It’s too early in the morning for you to get all metaphorical on me,” he groans. “Do you really want to hear what I’ve been working on? It’s... so early in the process, you know?”

“Of course I want to listen,” I say, leaning back in my seat. “This is the first time we’ve had the opportunity to do so, considering your last album was essentially already completed when I signed you.”

“Yeah,” he nods, before taking a large swig of his coffee. “I guess it is.”

Maybe it’s because of my sisters, but I’ve always had a sort of protectiveness for omegas in this industry. There are so many things that aren’t built for them, especially considering the novelty of Beckham’s designation as a male omega.

That said, I don’t need to have an alpha’s nose to tell that he’s incredibly anxious.

“Look, Beckham, I signed you because I saw your talent. Not just your potential. You have a gift. It’d be a shame to let your insecurities get in the way of what I know you’re capable of. It’s not like I’m expecting you to pull out a fully developed number one radio hit right away, okay?”

“Okay,” he nods. “I’ll... I’ll go get my guitar.”

He returns from the studio room with an acoustic guitar.

“We can... we can go if you want,” Eli offers with a grunt.

“Nah, you guys can stay,” he says, giving it a tentative strum. “You guys are always the first I play my music for, anyway.”

And then he starts to sing.

It’s at that moment that I know the only thing holding back Beckham Knight from being one of the biggest stars of our generation is his own mind. Because he truly has a gift.

Even though he apologizes for how messy it is, I almost regret my earlier words. Even though it’s just him and his guitar, there are definitely the bones of a number one radio hit right here.

There’s a vulnerability in the lyrics that’s impossible to manufacture, no matter how hard you try in this industry. That, on top of the rough-around-the-edges quality, his voice takes on? It makes it impossible to look away.

The room shifts as he sings, all three of us falling silent and still as if time has stopped.

The silence is all that’s left after the last line leaves his lips.

He glances around at the three of us nervously, his eyes wide and his knuckles white as he grips his guitar.