Chapter 32 Collins #2
I like the way he said that. The way he left all the power in Creed and Riley’s hands, that if they want him around outside of business, he won’t insert himself into it unless he’s invited to.
It’s the stark opposite of Steve, and I can feel how much the entire band already likes and respects this Fletcher guy.
His eyes flick to me, and his hard features soften. The attention he gives makes him seem even larger, which makes me feel twice as small, considering my head barely reaches his chest.
“I’m Collins,” I blurt, shoving my own hand out toward him before he even has a chance to open his mouth.
Fletcher just chuckles and places his hand in mine. Well, no, he swallows my hand with his own. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Bear walks over just as he finishes throwing half of his hair up and into a bun and crosses his arms over his chest.
“We’re ready when you are.”
Creed nods as Fletcher quietly bows out and slips onto the same couch in the corner, where Ayla is working on her tablet.
She hands him a binder with several folders in it, and he wordlessly gets to work looking through them.
No painful flirting, no lingering glances, nothing.
It’s not stopping Ayla from trying to hide her reddening ears with her short black bob, though.
She looks up to see me watching her, and she presses her lips together to suppress a smile and gives her head a subtle shake.
Creed’s voice pulls me back to their conversation.
“You know how it goes in here, Riley.” he says, turning to Riley on my right. “We can record one of two ways today. Together or separate. You’ve been doing fucking amazing, but I’ll leave it completely up to you how you prefer to work today.”
I look up at Riley, who purses his lips in thought. His dark eyes dart back and forth while looking at nothing, as if checking his mental pros and cons list.
“I think…” he starts, “can we try this one separately? And if it goes well, then we can record together for the next track?”
“Whatever you need, man,” Bear says simply, releasing one of his arms to clap Riley on the shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re here.”
My poor heart threatens to melt into a puddle at my feet. Riley deserves nothing less than the best family by his side, and he’s found it in these men.
“Alright!” Creed whoops, dropping a wet kiss to my cheek, then Riley’s before dancing his way over to the booth where Blair is waiting, bouncing on the balls of his feet with an excited grin as Bear follows in after him.
An hour in, I’ve concluded that I’m either easily impressed, or this really is one of the coolest and most magical processes I’ve ever seen in my life.
The sound guy, Nathan, is sweet as can be.
He had quietly answered my many, many questions when he could.
Riley has spent the better part of the hour sitting quietly next to me with his headphones in.
Though this time, he’s plugged directly into the soundboard, absorbing everything that’s going into this track.
Creed starts to sing the same bridge for what has to be the ninth time, and I can’t help but giggle when he shrieks enthusiastically into the hanging microphone after Nathan hits a big red button that stops the playback.
He pumps his fists in the air before turning and demanding high-fives from Bear and Blair.
Riley chuckles next to me, and I turn to see him smiling at his boys through the window.
Creed bursts through the studio doors a moment later.
“Tell me that was fucking perfect!” he pants, planting his hands on his hips as he stares intently at the soundboard. “Because it felt like it was perfect.”
Nate hits a button, and suddenly all the dials and knobs automatically readjust, and the bridge begins again.
This time, the sound playing on the speakers is right in front of me.
My skin erupts in chills when the music builds to a crescendo, and the bridge plays out.
I can’t tell if I want to scream or cry over just how perfect this song is.
I feel insanely honored to get to witness it come to life.
“I think this is it,” I rasp, looking into Creed’s eager eyes. I’m no professional, and it’s nice to see that Nathan doesn’t take offense at me answering before he can. “I think it’s a fucking banger, Creed. I love it.”
The smile that blooms across his beautiful face has me feeling dizzy with a painful need to keep him smiling like that, always.
“She loves it,” he whispers to himself before kicking the studio door open and belting out, “She loves it!”
Creed looks like a kid in a candy store when he all but shoves Bear and Blair from the studio while chanting the very same words over and over.
My face heats, and it’s impossible to hide the genuine joy that’s radiating outward from within.
Creed’s excitement as he all but bounces over to where Riley sits.
His eyes home in on the fact that Riley’s currently distracted with his headphones, so he calms himself long enough to crouch in front of Ri, bracing his hands on his knees before sliding them up his thighs.
Riley blinks a few times before he realizes Creed is there, but he smiles when he sees the goofy grin that greets him.
Riley slides the headphones down until they encircle his neck.
“It’s your turn,” Creed states, his palms slapping against Ri’s thighs. “You ready?”
Deep mocha eyes look more determined than I’ve seen in a while as he rests his steady hands atop Creed’s. “More than ready.”
“Fuck yeah!” Creed whoops as he pulls Riley to stand with him.
The moment they’re both on their feet, Creed traps Riley’s face between his tattooed fingers and pulls him in for a kiss that I’m certain is not appropriate for such a public or professional space—all lips and teeth and tongue.
Nobody protests, and everybody conveniently has somewhere else to be looking while Creed claims his boy.
Except for me.
I don’t think I’ll ever get over the sight of them together.
They were a perfect pair when they were simply best friends, but now they’re a match made in chaos-infused heaven.
“You’ve got this, baby. The song is fucking incredible, but it’s missing you.” Creed kisses Riley’s swollen lips once more before shoving him towards the studio door with a playful swat to his ass.
He yelps before laughing, and he blesses me with those perfect fangs as he does so.
Riley settles behind the drum set and dons a new pair of headphones, thicker than the previous pair.
He stretches, and his eyes flare with surprise when he wiggles his fingers and the drumsticks twirl perfectly in his hand before sliding into the silicone strap that will keep it attached to his hand.
Creed takes a seat between Nate and me, his eyes studying the small monitor in front of him before tweaking and adjusting the soundboard.
Nate seems unbothered that Creed’s taken over his job, and I watch in fascination because none of it makes sense to me.
He holds his thumb up in the air, waiting for Riley to look up and acknowledge him.
The moment he does, Riley freezes. I recognize the exact moment his body locks up and his breaths shorten.
“Shit…” I whisper, my heart aching for Riley.
His beautiful, glassy dark eyes find me through the glass, and he swallows thickly.
“I, uh—” He tries to grab at the back of his neck while still gripping the drumstick, his nails scraping at the tender skin there. “Fuck, I need…”
My head snaps to Creed, who is already looking at me with his hands clasped and elbows resting against the desk of the soundboard.
“Can I go in there?”
Creed nods immediately, standing with me before grabbing the chair I was sitting in. He quickly ushers me into the studio and places the chair in the corner, facing where Riley waits patiently.
“These mics are hot as fuck, so they’ll pick up on the faintest of sounds,” Creed explains, gesturing to the various microphones positioned around the room. “Just be careful not to make noise, or it could wind up in the track.”
I nod in understanding. I had a feeling we could be on borrowed time with Riley’s hands today, and the risk of fucking up a track would be higher than usual. That he’d only have so many takes to work with—Riley’s words, not mine.
“I’ll be quiet, I promise,” I whisper, crossing my legs and tucking my hands beneath them.
I look to Riley and offer him an encouraging smile.
“Better?” Creed teases as he turns his attention to Riley, who rolls his eyes, his foot bouncing, splashing the high hat cymbals.
“Much.” Riley chuckles as he adjusts his posture. His eyes and his tone convey his sweet sincerity, though. “Thank you.” His eyes volley between us, letting us know he’s talking to both of us.
A pair of headphones materializes before me. I take them from Creed’s outstretched hand and slip them over my ears. He blows a kiss to each of us before taking two steps back.
“Here we go!” Creed cheers as he opens the door, and the sound of Blair joining him briefly greets us before the door softly swings shut.
I can’t hear anything except for my own breathing with these headphones on, but when I turn back to face Riley, I’m not surprised to find his eyes already trained on me.
I don’t dare to try to hide the swell of pride in my chest over how much more comfortable and confident he looks with my presence in the room.
I know it won't always be this way, and eventually, he won't need me in here at all, but I can’t deny how much I love that he needs me now.
“Ready?” Creed’s voice crackles into our headsets, and I watch as Riley stretches himself out in preparation. My cheeks heat a little when his shirt rises, and I get a little peek of Riley’s softly sculpted abs.
He gives a single nod before a soft metronome series of beeps and clicks clues him in to the rhythm, even though he’s been listening intently the entire time.
I sit in awe, watching Riley transform into someone new.
I’ve seen him drum before, and even got to be a part of it not long ago, but this feels different.
He’s let go of the fear, and it’s a beautiful thing to watch his body move on autopilot as he navigates the song.
He’s fucking incredible. His knowledge of how to manipulate the energy of the song with every rhythmic beat against the drums is unparalleled.
I have no idea how much time passes, but I couldn’t care less.
I’m content to sit here all day if it means I get to watch Riley create literal magic with his beautiful hands.
Yes, there are pauses and stops, but for the most part, it's so that he can bounce ideas back and forth as each of the men takes turns speaking to him through the headset.
They give Riley total creative freedom, so their words are more encouragement than suggestion.
I watch as he plays out the last chorus before he rolls his lips while focusing on the outro of the song.
Sweat glistens on his face and neck, and I feel this overwhelming urge to launch myself at him to clean it up with my tongue.
Witnessing Riley become one with what he loves, unfortunately, is a turn on, and the last thing I want to do is keep my hands to myself.
It should be shameful with just how aroused I get when I watch him and Creed sing and play. Not only is it them, but it’s the energy they create. It’s the way they pour themselves into every word, every beat, every note…and that part of themselves happens to be sex.
By the time the final notes fade out, I’m so far beyond turned on that I hardly register all the cheers ringing around the studio on the other side of the glass.
My sighs are locked on one person, and he’s currently panting behind his drum set with his pupils blown so wide that they nearly look black as they bore so deeply into me that I feel his stare caress my soul.
Riley’s throat bobs several times, and he starts to fidget in his seat. It’s not nervousness, but something else. It’s barely contained, and his lack of smile tells me that it’s deeper than joy and that he’s about to snap.
Creed must read it, too, because through the headset I hear, “That’s a wrap!
” More cheers ring out, but he continues, “Let’s get the fuck out of here and find a place to eat.
I’ll ride with Bear—Ri, I’ll text you the address for when you…
wrap up.” I can hear the hidden meaning of his words without even looking at him.
It’s quiet for a moment when Riley doesn’t answer, but then Creed says softly, “I’m proud of you, Riley. You fucking killed it, baby.”
I know exactly what he’s doing. I turn around in time to see Creed throw me a wink as he throws an arm around Nate’s neck and ushers him from the studio, following everyone else’s quick exit. Should I be embarrassed? Probably. But right now I can’t bring myself to care.
The moment the door clicks shut, I’m out of my chair. I spin to face Riley just in time to see the seat of his stool spinning just as he materializes before me.
Sure, steady hands tangle in my hair as Riley’s lips crash against mine.