Chapter 7 Theo
Theo
She’d had him on the ropes for a minute. Had him back in that same shy position he’d been in when he was eighteen and wanted to talk to her.
Theo’s face grew warmer with every teasing comment, each good-natured chuckle. She came from a family that liked to make jokes and rib each other. And if having a laugh made her feel less nervous about performing, he’d let her get it out of her system.
Still, he made a mental note to look up the things she referenced—fanfics and TikToks. That kind of attention wasn’t really on his radar. Sure, he handled his own Reddit and Instagram accounts, and occasionally noticed the fans who left filthy comments. He tried not to engage beyond a polite like.
He turned the gain down slightly and adjusted the mic like it was second nature. She might’ve caught him slipping earlier… but in the booth?
This was his domain.
The air felt different the second they both went quiet. Not awkward, just focused. The way it always did before a clean take. He glanced over his monitor to make sure she was ready, and she adjusted her headphones before nodding and balancing her laptop on her knees.
Her face was unreadable now.
Until he started speaking.
“She always came down late. Like she didn’t want to see me, but couldn’t help herself. She thought I didn’t notice. I noticed everything.”
Maya shifted in her seat. Barely. But he heard it in the headphones.
He kept reading.
“The way her shirt rode up when she stretched. The way she averted her eyes when she caught herself in the mirrors. Like she couldn’t bear to see her own haunted expression.
That expression changed when she stared at the heavy bag. It was a mix of fury and anguish like she wanted to hit it and cry and scream all at once.”
He watched her eyes lift from the screen. He could have sworn he’d spotted her swallow.
Theo smiled, slow and deliberate.
“How was that?” he asked, voice pitched soft.
Maya cleared her throat. “Fine. Just surprised, that’s all.”
“By what?”
Her lips twitched. “By the fact that Paul sounds a little too comfortable in your mouth.”
He leaned closer to the mic, dropping his voice just slightly.
“That’s because I know what he wants.”
She laughed, quiet and flustered, before glancing back at her script.
Theo sat back, satisfied.
Round two? His.
He could see her trying not to react. Trying not to shift in her seat, or let her lips part too much. But she still blinked when his voice dipped low on a line that was never meant to be spoken this close.
He kept reading.
“She didn’t know I could hear her footsteps from upstairs.
That I waited for them some nights.
That every creak in the floorboards above my head made me wish she’d come down barefoot, just once, so I could see what she looked like when she forgot to pretend she wasn’t angry. Or sad. Or beautiful.”
He heard the softest exhale from Maya’s side of the booth.
Like a stifled fuck.
It made something in his chest tighten, and something much lower pulse with quiet satisfaction.
Theo scrolled down the page.
“She used to laugh louder. I remember that. Used to smile with her whole mouth. Now she looked like a woman who’d made peace with being lonely, and it pissed me off.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw her bite her lip.
He let the silence hang for a beat too long, then finally spoke. “You good?”
Maya blinked fast, eyes refocusing. “I—yeah. Sorry. That line. I forgot I wrote that.”
Theo’s smile was slow and a little wicked. “You wrote it like you’d met him.”
She rolled her eyes, cheeks flushed. “He’s fictional.”
“I know. But I’m his voice now.”
Maya didn’t answer.
She looked down at the computer like it might save her.
He leaned back, satisfied. Adjusted the mic.
“I’ll take it from the top again,” he said.
Once he got back into it, he really got into it.
The booth always did that: isolated sound, padded walls, no distractions. It slowed his pulse and tuned his focus down to just breath and intention. He let his eyes move across the screen, his voice settling into that deep, quiet cadence he’d built his reputation on.
He didn’t think about Maya anymore.
Not her legs crossed just so. Not the smirk she gave him earlier. Not the lacy bra he hadn’t seen but absolutely believed existed.
He thought about Paul. And then, when the POV shifted, about Yvette.
He didn’t change his pitch. Didn’t try to imitate anything.
He just let the weight settle differently in his chest. Let his breathing narrow. Let the words curve inward, tight and careful, like a woman who didn’t trust her voice to say everything she wanted.
He read her like he saw her.
When he finally reached the end of the chapter, he looked up.
And Maya was flushed.
Not dramatically. Just… slightly flushed at the base of her throat. Her eyes weren’t on the laptop anymore but they were locked on him.
She stared like she was trying to place him in a new category.
He cleared his throat, suddenly aware of the silence. “How was that?”
She blinked, then laughed under her breath. “Yeah. I just—” She shook her head. “You read Yvette like…”
Theo waited.
“You didn’t try to sound like her,” she said softly. “You just understood her.”
That hit him somewhere unexpected.
He rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging. “I don’t do voices. Not like that. I don’t shift pitch, just pressure.”
She tilted her head, intrigued.
“Right now, Yvette isn’t talking to be heard,” he said. “She talks to hold herself together. That tension’s more important than tone.”
Maya sat back in her chair, visibly processing.
“You wrote her tight,” he added. “I just followed the pulse.”
The room went quiet.
And he didn’t know why he felt a little exposed. Or why her gaze felt like it was doing more than just evaluating his performance.
She reached for her water bottle with a hand that wasn’t as steady as it had been ten minutes ago.
“Let’s, um… take five?”
Theo nodded. “Sure.”
She stood, bumped the edge of the table with her hip, muttered something like, "Jesus," and stepped out.
Theo leaned back, exhaled slowly, and reached for his own water.
Only then did it hit him—
He wasn’t the only one in the room performing restraint.
Even though he’d splurged on a studio that could eventually accommodate more than one person, this was the first time he’d ever recorded with someone else. The woman he’d spent years pining for was now that someone else.
Sitting across from him, listening to his every word.
He heard her footsteps in the hallway, light and quick. The sound of the fridge door opening, a can snapping.
Theo smiled to himself and leaned forward, adjusting the gain again. Just something to do with his hands. She was flustered, yeah, but not because she wasn’t ready. She was flustered because she was.
He stood, stretched, and walked into the kitchen like nothing had happened.
Maya was leaning against the counter with a sparkling water in hand and a look on her face like she was trying very hard not to replay the last fifteen minutes in her head.
“You good?” he asked, voice easy again.
She nodded, too quickly. “Yep. Fine.”
Theo studied her for a moment before asking, “You wanna try something a little wild?”
She blinked. “That’s not usually how I like to start working.”
He grinned. “Hear me out.”
Her arms folded, she was getting defensive but curious. “I’m listening.”
“Let’s skip Chapter One.”
Maya stared at him.
“Let’s go straight to Chapter Twelve.”
Her brows shot up. “Chapter Twelve? That’s—”
“The gym scene from Yvette’s POV. I know.” He’d read it multiple times by now.
“That’s a bit much right now, don’t you think?”
“Exactly,” he said calmly. “But you’re nervous, and this is like cold water. If we keep inching in, it’s gonna stay uncomfortable. If we jump right in, get the hard part over with? Then everything else feels easier.”
She opened her mouth. Closed it again.
“You’re serious,” she said finally.
“Completely.”
Maya took a long sip of sparkling water. Then muttered, “This is either a brilliant idea or my villain origin story.”
Theo was already walking back toward the booth. “Twelve it is!”
He didn’t look back.
If she followed, it meant she trusted him.
And if she didn’t?
Well—he wasn’t planning to read that chapter alone.