Chapter 8
Marina
Instead of stepping out onto the city streets to catch a bus at the end of my day, I take the elevator to the parking garage under the building. There is a designated waiting area for ride share and car service vehicles, so I head that way and find two cars idling. I recognize the SUV that rescued Zach and me from the library, but I double-check the license plate number against the one Zach texted me about an hour ago. As if on cue, Dave steps out of the vehicle and opens the rear passenger door for me.
“Good evening, Dave,” I say with a smile, throwing my bag in and sliding into the seat.
“Miss MacArthur,” he says with a quick nod.
Dave pulls the SUV out of the parking garage and into traffic as I relax against the plush leather seat and watch the city roll by. I have to admit, it’s really nice having someone pick me up at work instead of riding the bus home. I could get used to this. I don’t have to worry about changing hats or turning my coat inside out. I look forward to the day I don’t have to think about that kind of thing anymore, which is hopefully very soon.
My phone vibrates in my hand and I look down to see a text message from Ashley.
Ashley: Hey, have fun tonight! Remember…you don’t have to marry him. No one’s trying to rock your boat. Just have fun!
I smile and shove my phone in my bag. Several minutes later, we pull to a stop on California Street. An awning over the door says “Golden Gate Studio”. My pulse picks up at the thought of getting to see inside a real recording studio. Dave gets out and opens the door on the sidewalk side of the car for me. I slide my way out just as the door to the studio opens, and Zach appears.
“Thank you, Dave,” I say softly as I close the distance between Zach and me.
Zach just stands there, looking a bit confused. Like he’s never seen me before. I step closer.
“Is something wrong?” I ask quietly.
“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he says, stepping back to take in my entire appearance.
Only then do I realize that my appearance is, indeed, quite different from what he’s used to. My hair is still pulled back in a tight chignon, and I’m wearing a designer red suit and four-inch high heels. Zach is used to casual Marina…or mermaid Marina. Not the buttoned-up, stern version of me that works at Taft & Kennedy.
“Have I shocked you?” I ask with a laugh, stepping inside as he holds the door open for me.
Zach steps in behind me, and I look around the small lounge area. It’s comfortable and welcoming but otherwise nondescript. There’s a single hallway that leads back to what I assume is the recording studio.
“Is this your office persona?” Zach asks with a soft smile.
I nod, smoothing a hand down my straight red skirt. “All the women are expected to wear suits and heels. We all put our hair up in a chignon. I don’t even think about it anymore. It’s like wearing a uniform, I suppose.”
He offers me a lazy smile. “I don’t think I’d fit in at your office.”
I take advantage of the opportunity to look him over, from his slightly tussled collar-length dark brown hair to the perfect scruff that’s grown along that gorgeous jawline, down to the vintage long-sleeved t-shirt, well-worn jeans, and boots. I shake my head and grin.
“Not one bit.”
We laugh together, and he gives my hair another peculiar look.
“Here,” I say quickly, reaching up and pulling my long hair out of its confines. “I didn’t bring anything to change into, but maybe this will make me look like less of an angry corporate clone.”
I shake my hair out and comb my fingers through it.
“Better?” I ask, not really needing an answer.
He stands there, staring at me for a few moments as if hypnotized.
“Much better, Siren,” he says as he heads down the hall and motions for me to follow. “Let’s give you a proper tour.”
I smile softly at the sound of my nickname and follow him. There are a few doors leading off of the hallway, but they’re closed, and I can’t see more. At the end of the hall, there’s another small lounge area. The walls are covered in framed record albums signed by various musicians and singers. I take a moment to look them over. Frank Sinatra. Johnny Cash. Ed Sheeran. There are artists from every decade here. I feel Zach watching me, and I glance over to see him regarding me curiously.
“Did you ever imagine singing in a recording studio when you were little?” he asks, leaning against the door jamb.
I smile again, turning back to the wall of record albums as I study them .
“I used to get in trouble for daydreaming in school when I was very young,” I say as my eyes pass over records by the Bee Gees, Eric Clapton, and Taylor Swift. “It was always some version of me becoming a famous singer and making millions of dollars so I could help my family.”
“Oh?” he says from the doorway.
I nod, slowly moving along the wall. My eyes reverently pass over each artist’s name.
“We’d buy our own house,” I continue. “We’d never have to live in a run-down apartment again or deal with crazy neighbors. Mom wouldn’t have to work at a cruddy diner and be on her feet all day. My brother would be able to play baseball. We’d go to a safe school. Kid’s stuff.”
Zach is quiet, which prompts me to turn around. He just stands there, watching me thoughtfully.
“Sounds like a nice dream,” he says softly. “Are you still close to your family?”
My heartbeat increases when I realize I walked right into a conversation about my past. My family. That I no longer have. Our eyes meet and I get stuck on the words that want to come out of my mouth. I open my mouth to say something, then close it again.
“You don’t like to talk about your family…” he guesses.
I consider for a moment, then ask, “Do you like to talk about yours?”
He shrugs. “I don’t mind. My origins aren’t exactly a secret.”
I nod with a smile. “Yes, you’re a royal.”
He lets out a hearty laugh, and its sound reaches into my ribcage and pulls at my heart. I try to school my features into a neutral expression, but I feel slightly panicked at how quickly this man is breaking through my defenses.
“Technically, yes,” he answers, prompting me to raise my eyebrows at him .
“Zach, we’re all set!” a voice yells from behind the closest door to us.
With that, Zach steps over and opens the door. He motions for me to enter first, and I walk into a rather spacious recording studio. We enter into the area where the producers and technicians work the equipment, giving the music whatever kind of feel they’re going for. Dials and buttons and switches stretch across a huge instrument panel. Just above it is a glass window overlooking the actual recording studio where the artists sing or play instruments. A tall man with rich bronze skin and no hair extends a hand to me with a huge smile.
“Hello, Marina,” he says warmly. “I’m Bo. Welcome to my studio.”
I shake his hand. “Thank you so much, Bo. This is amazing. I’ve never seen a real recording studio.”
“Well, in that case, let me give you the deluxe tour!” he says, motioning for me to step closer to the instrument panel.
For the next several minutes, Bo takes me through an overwhelming orientation of every switch on the panel. I’m fascinated and definitely way, way out of my comfort zone—but it’s fun, and for a moment, I wonder if some door inside the deepest part of my defenses didn’t swing wide open the moment I decided to sing in the middle of that traffic jam. I’d normally be home with my nose in a book.
What have I started?
Movement out of the corner of my eye gets my attention and I notice that Zach has moved into the actual recording studio and is playing Fur Elise on the keyboard. Bo sighs beside me, then winks.
“He’s showing off for you,” he says with a grin. “Don’t tell him I said that.”
I laugh and roll my eyes, making sure to thank Bo as I step into the recording side of the room. Zach is still playing around with the classic Beethoven piece as I approach.
“I’ll bet you’ve never played that at one of your concerts,” I tease .
He laughs and stops playing.
“You would be correct,” he admits. “But I did play it in concert at school. Mum was very proud.”
I smile and nod, taking in my surroundings. The walls are covered with sound-proofing materials. There’s a drum set toward the back of the room with a microphone suspended from the ceiling, and there’s another microphone on a stand at the center of the room. Various musical instruments are set up all around the outside of the room, ready to play.
Zach gets up from the stool he’s sitting on and comes over to me, gesturing at the mic.
“Shall we have some fun?” he says with an infectious grin, making me laugh.
I nod. “Yes, let’s.”
Zach looks through the window at Bo and gives him a thumbs up. Bo grins and hits a switch, leaning over to a small mic.
“You want this recorded, bud?” Bo asks over the intercom system.
Zach looks at me with questioning eyes. I smile.
“Do I?” I ask with a laugh.
He shrugs. “You’re the boss.”
It doesn’t take me long to think about it. When will I ever have the chance to be in a recording studio again? A memento of this experience would be nice to have.
I nod excitedly, glancing at Zach and Bo. Bo laughs and gives me a wave.
“I got you, girl!” he says with a sweet grin, making me laugh. I watch as he flips a few switches and then flashes us a thumbs up. “Zach, you can use the remote right there on the piano to hit the record on/off switch.”
Zach looks over and grabs a small remote, waving at Bo as he walks out of the control room, and the door closes behind him .
“Normally, he’d stay in the control room, but we’re on a non-date, and I asked for privacy. He’s going to hang out in his office unless we need him.”
I give Zach an eye roll, and he reaches out, wrapping a warm hand around my elbow as he gently guides me to stand in front of the mic. He adjusts the height of the mic stand, his eyes meeting mine. He’s close enough that I can smell that intoxicating sea and salt mixture again, and I have to fight the urge to lean closer. He pauses for a moment, not moving away from me. We’re close enough that I could take a half step and be in his arms if it weren’t for the mic stand between us. I hate how thrilling it is to be this close to him.
“What shall we sing?” he asks quietly, his eyes looking down into mine.
My eyes land on his lips, and I can’t look away. Handsome isn’t the best word to describe him. Maybe ruggedly beautiful is a better term. And now my mind has gone blank. I can’t think of a single song written by any artist on the face of the planet. Ever. Zach grins and backs away, taking a seat at the keyboard again.
“Who are your favorite artists?” he starts. “Or what’s your favorite kind of music?”
I shake my head and laugh. “All of it.”
He appears thoughtful for a moment, then his fingers begin to move on the keyboard. I recognize the melody, but I can’t place it. I’m about to give up when he gets to the chorus, and I squeal in excitement. It’s “Just Give Me A Reason” by Pink. I start singing the chorus, and Zach joins in.
Just like before, our voices blend perfectly. I’m sure it’s the professional recording studio we’re in because we sound absolutely amazing together. My heart leaps as we hit every high note together and harmonize beautifully. By the time we get to the bridge, I burst out in joyous laughter. Zach stops singing and shakes his head at me .
“What’s this?” he asks, settling his hands on his thighs.
I can’t stop smiling. “This is…I don’t even know. That was amazing.”
He sits at the keyboard, watching me carefully. “We sound good together, don’t we?”
I nod. “It’s incredible,” I reply, feeling breathless. “I mean…I have so much fun singing with the girls when we do our little side gigs, but this is something entirely different.”
I can tell by his expression that he feels the same. He laughs under his breath, and I watch him curiously.
“It’s refreshing to see this kind of reaction from someone who’s not a professional singer,” he explains. “It can be so fun to find that person who matches you perfectly. I’m glad you see it too.”
“I’m sorry I got a little overwhelmed by it all,” I say with a pensive smile. “I didn’t mean to ruin it.”
His expression grows serious. “You’ve ruined nothing. I don’t believe it’s possible that you could ever ruin anything, Siren.”
I let out a sarcastic chuff. “You’d be surprised.”
He raises his eyebrows in question, but I don’t offer an explanation. He glances away for a moment, then claps his hands together.
“Right. Shall we test ourselves? How about another genre? Country? Rap? Opera?” he grins wildly at the last one.
I laugh. “Opera, ha! As if. Country? Can the Duke of Rock sing country?”
He rolls his eyes and immediately begins playing “Wagon Wheel” by Darius Rucker. His voice is rich and warm and I close my eyes, as if it’ll help me hear the music better. I get lost in the sound of his voice. It’s so soothing and beautiful. Suddenly, the music stops, and I open my eyes to find him grinning at me.
“Free concert’s over, time to work,” he chides. “Who’s your favorite country artist?”
I don’t even have to think about it. “Kenny Chesney all day long. ”
He takes a moment to think. “How about ‘You And Tequila’?”
I jump up and down. “Yes!”
He grabs a guitar from a nearby stand and begins strumming out the intro to the song. I turn so I can look at him while we sing. He plays beautifully, looking up at me as he begins singing the Kenny Chesney part of the song. A slow smile spreads on my lips as I listen.
I join him at the chorus, and that now familiar thrill wraps around me as our voices come together. I can’t keep the smile off my face as we sing. His smile is softer, his eyes darker. Keeping his gaze locked with mine, he stands and slowly walks over to stand on the other side of the mic. I feel it when the energy changes in the room. The air between us crackles with sparks that seem to tease along the surface of my skin. Through it all, we just keep singing along to the easy rhythm of the song, our gazes never breaking away from each other.
It feels like our voices are living, tangible things, flowing into the air and then twining around each other in a kind of dance. It isn’t lost on me that the lyrics speak of two people trapped in a dangerous dance of their own, unable to get enough of each other. His eyes drift down to my mouth and I nearly forget the lyrics. I feel that familiar tug from the logical part of me, telling me to back away from him and make an excuse to leave early, but my gut instincts keep me rooted where I stand. Somewhere in my heart, I know Zach is different. And so I ignore my head and keep singing, content to give myself this evening with Zach without putting the weight of all my fears on it. For once, I just let it be what it is.
Zach strums out the final strains of the song and I don’t even try to stop the smile that spreads across my face as I close my eyes and we sing the last notes together. I open them again to find him staring down at me, his jaw slack and his eyes full of so much emotion that I look away. I clear my throat and step back a bit.
“That was a good one,” I say confidently, smiling up at him as he studies my face with those bottomless brown eyes. He nods. The air feels tight between us.
“Should I even bother trying to find something that’s a challenge for you?” I tease, trying to break his laser focus on me. “You’re very versatile.”
A slow grin spreads on his face. “I don’t know much opera.”
I give him a satisfied nod. “Well, it’s good to know you’re not perfect.”
He laughs softly, setting the guitar aside a moment, then turning back to me with renewed interest.
“What did you mean when you said I’d be surprised about your ability to ruin something?” he asks softly, his expression sincere.
Whether the intimacy of singing together has worn down my defenses or something else, I feel myself wanting to share at least part of my story. In the short time Zach and I have spent around each other, he’s shown me that he’s a caring person. His intentions are honorable. Somewhere in my gut, I feel it.
“I was quite a handful when I was a teenager,” I begin, my voice small as I talk about a time I’d much rather forget. “My mom died when I was thirteen. We never knew our dad. We didn’t have any other family, so my little brother and I went into foster care. Because of my behavior, I went through several foster families before social services gave up and put me in a group home for troubled teens.”
Zach’s expression is all compassion as his eyes scan over my face. I wait for him to ask me for details. I wait for him to start digging, ready to shut him down. He doesn’t. He gives me the space to share what I want to share.
“I’m so sorry you lost your mum,” he says in a near whisper. He reaches out cautiously, taking my hand. “That must have been hard, especially at such an age.”
Zach’s fingers are warm and reassuring as they squeeze my hand gently. His thumb rubs lazy circles across the back of it, quelling the nervous rhythm of my heart. I nod, unsure of what to say. I’m not a person who opens up easily, but it’s as easy with Zach as it was with Ash, Merry, and Scarlet. Certain people just feel safe.
“And your brother?” he asks softly.
I shake my head, words definitely failing me. Tears spring to my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. His throat bobs, and he wraps those big, warm hands around my biceps and gives me a gentle squeeze.
“I have a brother,” he says gently. “Harry. Not the prince.”
I blink up at him to find a mischievous grin on his face. I offer a half-hearted smile in return.
“Is he as tenacious as you?” I ask with a slight breathlessness to my tone. His hands are just slightly kneading my shoulders in a gesture that’s as comforting as it is hypnotic.
“He is,” Zach says with a grin. “You sort of have to be when you’re born into the aristocracy. Otherwise you end up just bending to their ridiculous rules and have no life of your own.”
I take a moment to study his face. The handsome features, the eyes that pull me in every time he looks at me, the lips that make me wonder too many things I shouldn’t wonder about. I’m equal parts thrilled at the idea of being kissed by that mouth as I am afraid of it ever happening. Suddenly, I realize I’m staring and flick my gaze back up to his eyes.
“What are we singing next?” I ask.
For a moment, Zach looks thoughtful, like he’s trying to find a way to keep the topic on our families. He gives my arms a final squeeze and releases me, reaching back for the guitar again.
“I defer to the lady,” he says, putting extra emphasis on his British accent.
I laugh and shake my head. “I chose the last one. It’s your turn.”
Zach lets out a full, throaty laugh, and I’m captivated .
“Who was your biggest crush when you were a teen?” he asks.
I cringe.
“I don’t want to say,” I admit with a little laugh. It only encourages him.
“Siren…” he teases, picking a few notes on the guitar. “Out with it.”
I close my eyes and mutter, “Justin Bieber.”
I’m rewarded for my bravery with another hearty laugh, the sound of which shimmies into my bones and makes my toes curl. I beam up at him.
“What d’ya got?” I ask with a laugh.
Without hesitating, Zach gives me a wink and begins expertly strumming out, “Baby”. Just like that, I squeal like a twelve-year-old and jump up and down, earning another laugh from Zach.
I jump behind the mic and begin singing the song, giving Zach a look when he doesn’t join in. He smiles and shakes his head.
“Don’t know the lyrics, love. This one’s all you.”
I nod and throw myself into the song. There’s just something about this one that lightens my spirit and makes my heart happy. I dance behind the mic as I sing, gesturing at Zach like he’s the first love who broke my heart. He grins at me as he strums out the song, and seems to be having a good time just watching me being silly. As soon as he finishes playing the end of the song, he swings the guitar to the side and applauds.
“Bravo!” he yells, whistling and clapping like he’s at a real concert.
I dip into a low curtsy, which is a real challenge in these heels, but I reign supreme. Zach and I both laugh. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and I realize it’s been a while since I allowed myself to just let go and have fun. Have I become so fiercely focused on my goals that I’ve forgotten how to loosen up and just have a good time? It sure seems like it. Maybe there is something to say for just going with the moment and doing what you feel. I’ve lost that part of myself.
“That was so fun,” I say through my smile. “Thanks for not laughing at how monumentally uncool that was.”
Zach shakes his head. “Nothing uncool about doing something you love, Siren. I love how much that made you light up.”
“Like a bonfire on a beach?”
He grins at my use of his phrasing, and I wonder if he knows that’s what he smells like. Fresh sea air, salty and smoky. Suddenly, I want him closer. Am I going to do anything about it? No. Am I going to stop thinking about it? Not likely. He puts the guitar down again and sits on the stool, and for a moment, we’re just quiet and enjoying each other’s company. It’s time enough for me to realize how much I really like him. The urge to share more about myself comes back.
“I don’t know where my brother is,” I say suddenly.
Zach’s eyes meet mine. There’s no judgment in his eyes. Just interest and compassion.
“The first foster home I was in,” I continue, wringing my hands, “was hard for us both at first. The Lewises.”
I lower my gaze to the floor as I say their name. I haven’t really thought about them in a long time.
“Were they mean to you?” Zach asks quietly.
I shake my head.
“They were decent people.” I sigh. “Max…my brother…he and I were scared. I was thirteen, he was nine, and our mom was the only family we’d ever known. All of a sudden our entire world shifted, and we were living with two strangers who wanted to be our mom and dad. I was angry. I wanted my mother back.”
Zach stands and steps over to me, taking both my hands in his. “Of course you did.”
I shake my head again. “They did everything they could to help us get settled, but it was all such a shock. With our mom, we didn’t have much. She was all we had, and she had to work so hard to support the three of us. That meant it was up to me to look after Max.”
I close my eyes when I mention his name, anticipating the feelings of guilt that I know are coming. What kind of a sister does what I did? I feel a squeeze on my hands and look up at Zach, watching me with such empathy in his eyes.
“We did everything together,” I continue. “Homework after school, and then I made dinner. Mom usually came home for dinner, and then we’d watch TV for a while before bed. Max always wanted me to sing him to sleep.”
Zach nods, smiling softly. “Who wouldn’t?”
I give him a half smile. “We went from living in a one-bedroom apartment with mom to living with two people who weren’t our parents. Mr. Lewis was a surgeon, so they lived in a really nice neighborhood. I remember the first time Mrs. Lewis took us grocery shopping. She was very kind. We went up and down every aisle and she told us to show her all the things we liked or wanted to try. We walked down the baby aisle, and the baby formula wasn’t all locked up in a cage. That’s when it really hit me.”
“How different your lives were?”
I nod. “It just made me so mad. I kept staring at that baby formula and thinking that I’d rather be back in that terrible neighborhood with the locked-up baby formula if it meant having my mom back. Suddenly, I had two new parents, and Mrs. Lewis didn’t work, so she had time to help Max with his homework. She made dinner. She insisted I should have time for my friends, but I didn’t have any friends.”
“You didn’t have time to just be a kid before,” Zach offers with another gentle squeeze. “It makes sense that you felt a little lost.”
I nod again. “Well, once we got settled, Max wasn’t so lost. Our dad left when Max was born, so he never had a dad and I barely remembered him. Mr. Lewis and Max formed a bond pretty quick, which was tough for me to watch, but I was happy for him. I wasn’t angry at him. I was just angry at the world. And I started acting out.”
Zach nods.
“I started getting in trouble a lot. And one night, I overheard the Lewises talking about me. I had officially become too much to deal with, but they didn’t want to say anything because Social Services’ first goal is always to keep the kids together. If I got removed from their home, they would take Max away too—and they loved Max. I thought about how hurt Max would be if we were taken away from the Lewises, especially after losing our mom, and I knew I couldn’t risk that.”
“Of course not.”
“So I ran away,” I say with a tone much lighter than the topic at hand.
Zach frowns. “Were you caught?”
I nod. “Several times, but my teenage mind was made up. I decided that Max was better off without me. I didn’t want him to lose the family that loved him, so I never told anyone what I heard that night. I told our caseworker I didn’t want to be with my brother, and I hated the Lewises, which wasn’t true, but I knew it would work. She put me with another family. I ran away again, and a few more times until they put me in a group home and threw away the key.”
Zach’s hands drift up my arms and stop at my shoulders. His thumbs make lazy circles as he watches me pensively.
“The Lewises adopted Max,” I say softly, smiling as much as I can. “They wanted me to write to Max so we could at least keep in touch, and I did that for a little while. Eventually, my anger and guilt got the best of me, and I stopped writing. When I finally snapped out of it, they’d moved away.”
Zach’s eyes dart around my face as I look up at him. I shrug and shake my head.
“So that is why it’s hard for me to talk about my brother,” I say with a heavy sigh.
Without another word, Zach pulls me in and wraps his arms around me. It doesn’t even occur to me to resist. I wrap my arms around his waist and settle my head against his chest like it’s the most natural, normal thing in the world. Oh, this feels too good. That lovely sea salt and sandalwood smell envelops me, and I inhale it like a healing balm.
“I’m so sorry, Marina,” Zach says gently, holding me tightly in the best hug I’ve had in a very long time.
I could stay here forever. Literally. Just stay wrapped in his arms and never have to deal with the rest of life again. No more horrible bosses. No more worrying about the next bad thing to happen. Just this. Sure, eating might be a problem and I’d need bathroom breaks, but otherwise. Just this.
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Zach murmurs against my hair.
I nod, not trusting myself enough to say more, and I inhale one final whiff of Zach before gently stepping out of his embrace. The realization suddenly hits me that I’ve shared far more than I actually intended, and I cringe.
“I’m so sorry,” I say in a near whisper. “That kind of killed the mood, didn’t it?”
Zach studies my face for a moment.
“You haven’t killed anything, Siren,” he says with a warm smile. “You’ve flattered me with your trust.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know why I said all that.”
A mischievous glint flickers in his eyes. “That’s what you’re supposed to do on a non-date, Siren: get to know each other better.”
A smile spreads from one corner of my mouth to the other and I laugh softly.
“So,” Zach says with a quick clap of his hands, “I’m working on a project that I could use a little help on. If you think you’d like to?”
I nod enthusiastically, grateful for the change of subject. Zach pulls the remote control from his pocket. I wait patiently for an explanation.
“A few weeks ago, I had an idea to do a cover of ‘The Sound of Silence’,” he begins. “I thought it might be kind of cool to do a dark version of it. Something more gritty. More rock, less folk.”
“That sounds so interesting. I’d love to hear it.”
Zach grins. “That’s only half of what I need, though, Siren. Or at least I think it is. I’ll sing my version first, but I still find it wanting. It’s missing something.”
I nod. “And you want me to help you figure out what it is?”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m pretty sure I already know what it’s missing. You .”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “What?”
He laughs softly, adjusting the mic a little. “Your voice has a quality that’s very unique. It’s almost haunting. I think you’re what this piece is missing. So let me sing my version of it first, and you’ll have a better idea of where it’s going. Deal?”
I grab another stool that’s sitting near the drum set, pull it over, and sit down. “Deal.”
With a click of the remote, Zach triggers a pre-recorded track of a piano playing the song’s intro. He closes his eyes as the music plays, and he looks absolutely peaceful. He begins singing the song’s opening lyrics, his voice smooth and passionate. There is a definite quality of darkness in his inflection, and it’s absolutely beautiful.
As the song moves on, I watch in fascination as Zach increases his intensity with every verse. The piano track stays the same. No new instruments are added, yet Zach’s voice gets stronger and more powerful as he moves from verse to verse until, eventually, he is growling out the lyrics with a savage quality that has me riveted to my seat. Finally, he sings the last of the lyrics, and I’m left breathless.
“Wow.”
Zach opens his eyes and smiles at me. “Yeah?”
“That was incredible, Zach,” I whisper.
He gives me a quick bow. “Thank you, my lady.”
I laugh and give him a quick shove.
“I don’t see how I can help. That was pretty perfect.”
Zach looks thoughtful for a moment, then takes my hands and pulls me to a standing position in front of the mic.
“I’m not sure I agree,” he says softly. “Your voice will add another layer of intensity. When we sing together, it’s almost like magic.”
I can’t help but smile. “It is.”
“So you’ll try it with me?” His expression is adorably hopeful, and there isn’t one cell in my body that wants to say no to him right now.
I nod, and you’d think I just gave him a million dollars from the delighted expression on his face. A soft laugh escapes my lips as I pull out my phone and start scrolling.
“I’m afraid I don’t know all the lyrics, though.”
I find the lyrics online easily enough. I look up when another delicious wave of beach bonfire scent hits my nostrils. Zach is standing closer than ever, just on the other side of the mic stand, looking down at me with darkened eyes.
“Ready?” he asks with a huskiness in his voice that makes my heart skip a beat. He takes my phone and puts it on a stand nearby, adjusting the level so I can see it.
I nod, clearing my throat.
“As we sing, we’ll raise our intensity at each verse. Make sense?” His brown eyes scan my face.
I nod again. “Got it. ”
He hits the remote. The music begins to play. Zach turns and puts the remote down, then holds both his hands out to me. I hold his gaze as I put my hands in his, the contact warm and comforting and very, very welcome.
The music builds to the first verse, and we begin to sing. I match Zach’s gentle, almost breathless quality, and a chill sweeps down my spine at the sound of our voices mixing together in this way. He was dead on when he called it magic. I couldn’t describe it any other way. I feel his fingers squeeze my hands, and I squeeze back.
The second verse comes, and our voices grow louder. I close my eyes, letting myself go in the moment, opening them only when I know I need to check the lyrics I don’t know. Our voices weave their own melody on a higher level than the simple piano background accompanying us. I focus on keeping my voice clear and strong for this verse, matching Zach’s level of intensity.
I open my eyes and find his face full of emotion, his beautiful eyes watching me. We both grip our hands a little tighter as we add more power to our voices. The building intensity is exhilarating, sending chills across my skin and pushing me to be bolder. Stronger.
When we hit the fourth verse, Zach adds a gravelly, hard rock growl to his voice. Instinctively, I raise my voice an octave, and the combination is both beautiful and brazen. He raises his eyebrows at the change, his expression one of pure joy as he squeezes my hands harder and keeps singing. I feel a thousand different emotions as we sing. Our voices are alive with power and song, blending perfectly in a melody that’s both haunting and exhilarating. The final verses of the song are pure madness of the best kind. The song ends, leaving me breathless and full of emotion.
Zach and I just stand there for a moment, breathing heavily, the air between us charged with the leftover energy of our duet. There are no words for what I’m feeling right now. The way he’s looking at me tells me he feels exactly the same. Our eyes are locked on each other, anchoring us as we come back down from the complete out-of-body experience we just had during that song. I can barely think. I’m just standing here, panting along with Zach, a single tear falling down my cheek.
He lets go of one of my hands, raising it to cup my cheek. As he brushes the tear away with his thumb, I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that the mic is a very inconvenient barrier between us. I grab the mic stand with shaky fingers and move it to the side, which gives Zach room to fully close the distance between us.
Still breathing heavily, he wraps his arms around me, and I melt against him. I wrap my hands around his biceps, feeling them ripple in response. A smile teases the corner of Zach’s mouth.
“Marina…”
My gaze lowers to his mouth, and I find myself nodding, wanting his kiss. Zach lowers his lips to mine, grazing a feathery light kiss there that completely ruins me. Because it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough. He pulls back again, his eyes full of need, and I’m completely taken away by a wave of wanting. I need his kiss like I’ve never needed anything else in my life. I reach up and thread my fingers into his hair, pulling his mouth down to mine in a soft, warm, deliciously all-consuming kiss that tears down my boundaries like they’re made of tissue paper.