“Most of the time. You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Don’t you get lonely?”
“Not with all the music in my head,” he says, tapping his temple.
“You’re beautiful…” His eyes snap to mine. “…and I feel sorry for you.”
I’m graced with a full grin before he leads me deeper into the room.
“Come on, it won’t bite, and I got rid of the rats years ago.”
“That’s reassuring.”
He smirks as I take one of two seats behind the soundboard. Putting on my most serious expression, I straighten my shoulders. “So, you going to teach me how to drive this spaceship or what?”
“Only if it lands us in an alternate universe,” he rasps out, taking the seat next to me. His eyes bore into mine, the sentiment hitting hard.
“Then what are you waiting for? Let’s go.”
“I’ll do you one better.”
I feign busy, pushing up a lever I know he can easily adjust back. “I don’t quite see how that’s possible, Mr. Crowne.”
He ducks under the board and retrieves a set of headphones, and I gape at him. “You’re going to let me hear it?”
“How are you going to write your article without hearing it?”
“We both know I’m—”
The ‘play along with me’ look in his eyes cuts me off.
“Exactly,” I snark, tossing my shoulders back and exaggeratedly clearing my throat. “I can’t perform miracles. I don’t know how you expect me to sway people otherwise.”
“Let’s remedy that,” he says, a nervous underlay in his tone.
“How many people have heard it?”
“My dad—so that makes you—number two.”
An audible gasp leaves me. “Easton.”
“Yeah, not even my mother,” he says softly. “I didn’t want her feeling pressured.”
I gape at him. “You trust me this much?”
“Guess so.”
The urge to launch myself at him intensifies and I do my best to sidebar the plethora of emotions threatening. “Sure hope it doesn’t suck, or this could backfire badly.”
“Clock’s ticking, Butler, and you have a plane to catch and seventy-seven minutes of music to listen to.”
“Seventy-seven minutes. Is there a significance to that?”
“You tell me.” He gently pulls the tie securing the pile of curls on top of my head, teasingly ruffling them loose before placing the headphones on my ears.
“Why the headphones?”
“Because I’ve heard it far too many times, and I don’t want to concentrate on the music.”
“Perfectionist?” I ask.
“You have no idea,” he says, his expression tightening.
“I have some idea.”
“You going to shut up anytime soon?”
“Sorry, I’m excited,” I clap giddily. “You don’t really intend on watching me, do you?”
“Since I’ve been waiting seven long years, yeah, I absolutely fucking do.”
“Geesh, no pressure,” I spout nervously. “If I’m this nervous, I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.”
“Comfortable?” He asks, dodging my question.
“Yeah,” I say, bobbing my head with emphasis.
“Close your eyes,” he whispers. Immediately, I flutter them closed, thankful for the reprieve of being so close to him and unable to touch. It’s a special kind of hell.
All words fall away as the intro—an atmospheric sort of melody—surrounds me before notes begin pouring through the headphones.
I can feel Easton’s gaze as he keeps the seat opposite me, our knees touching, his earthy scent surrounding me as his velvet voice sounds with the first lyrics. In seconds, I’m transported from the dimly lit room we’re sitting in into his universe. Heavy drums kick as he sings between searing guitar riffs, my lips parting at the heaviness of the song’s message.
The introduction song comes to a close, the last of the lyrics lingering as I melt further into the chair, mind blown, keeping my eyes closed. When the next song begins to play, my eyes bulge open in response, and I see Easton’s expectant smile in place due to the drastic difference in sound from the first song to the second. Both are different in feel, yet just as phenomenal.
My eyes flutter closed as he sings of mistrust. When it ends, I open my eyes briefly, and his lips part as he conveys something unintelligible, but I purposefully refuse to lift my headphones in fear of missing a single note. By the third song, I’m completely in orbit, unable to give him a second of my attention as I’m swept further and further into the journey he’s so effortlessly taking me on. There’s a theme mixed in the brilliance, but even as I try to mentally take notes, I’m unable to formulate a single coherent thought.