Chapter 22
22
I was late getting to the studio the next day. Not because of traffic. Not because of anything work-related.
I was late because I’d spent the morning wrapped up in Amaya.
Not just physically—though, yeah, that too—but in a way that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the way we saw each other.
We’d woken up tangled, limbs draped, skin still warm from the night before. The soft morning light painted her in gold as she stared at me, her big brown eyes holding something deeper than I was ready to name.
“You remember when we were kids?” she murmured, tracing the ink on my chest with lazy fingertips. “How you used to thump out beats on anything you could find? Desks, walls, my damn parents’ kitchen table?”
I smirked. “Vibrations had to start somewhere.”
She smiled. “I loved it. I could always feel it in my bones—the way you heard music, the way it lived in you. Even when you didn’t see it, I did.”
That hit different.
Because there were times—too many times—when I didn’t believe in myself. When the industry felt too big, too unstable, when my talent felt like a gamble instead of a gift. But she? She never wavered. And that did something to me. Something deep.
I brushed my knuckles down her arm, my voice quiet. “You ever think about what you wanted back then? Before you knew how hard it would be?”
She let out a slow breath, staring up at the ceiling. “All the time. I’m grateful, you know? I have work, commissions. But sometimes it feels like I’m just… existing . Just making enough. I want more, Amir.”
I cupped her chin, turning her face to mine. “Then you’re gonna have more.”
Her eyes searched mine, like she was looking for proof, like she needed something tangible to hold onto.
I gave her the only thing I had. “You got a vision. You got talent. And you got me. We’re gonna make sure you get everything you deserve.”
Her lips parted like she wanted to say something else, but I leaned in and stole the words right out of her mouth, kissing her slow, deep, until neither of us were thinking about dreams anymore. Just the now. Just the way we fit together, how our bodies moved in sync like they were composing a love song only we could hear.
By the time I finally pulled myself out of her bed and into my clothes, I knew I was pushing it.
But I couldn’t regret a single second.
Now, as I walked into the studio, I was still carrying her with me—the feel of her fingers dragging down my spine, the way she whispered my name like it meant something bigger than either of us.
And I knew it did.
Taraj was already posted up in the studio, bobbing his head to a playback when I walked in. The moment he saw me, he gave me that trademark smirk.
“Yo, my guy. Overslept, huh?”
I grinned, dropping my bag on the floor. “Something like that.”
He shook his head, chuckling. “Better have been worth it. Label’s been on my ass about finishing this project.”
I slid into the chair, pulling up the latest session files. “We’re close. Let’s just get it how we want it. Not how they want it.”
“Facts,” he said. “They’re already tryna water it down. You know how they do.”
As we ran through the mix, his attention drifted. “Oh—and the album cover? I think I found my artist.”
I nodded once, already knowing what name was coming. “Yeah?”
“You know her… Amaya. Amaya Jameson,” he said, watching me from the side like he was checking for a twitch. “Caught her sketching that night you had her up here. She didn’t even realize I was watching. But what she drew? Man…”
I stayed quiet.
“She’s different,” he continued. “Her shit’s layered. Real emotion in it. And she’s fine as hell, too.”
My jaw flexed.
He saw it.
Then leaned back with a smirk. “That your girl?”
I hesitated—not because I didn’t know the answer, but because saying it out loud felt… big.
His grin deepened. "Damn. That hesitation says a lot."
I rolled my shoulders, keeping my voice even. "We go way back."
"Uh-huh." His smirk lingered. "And you cool with me sliding in her DMs?"
I didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
But he must’ve seen something shift in my face because he chuckled, holding his hands up. "Aight, aight. Relax. I ain’t tryna die today."
Damn right.
I forced a smirk, playing it cool. But inside? That shit was eating at me.
Because Taraj was right about one thing—Amaya was something deep. And whether I wanted to admit it or not, she wasn’t just some girl I used to know.
She was mine .
Before I could take the conversation further in walked Tasha.
She was all curves and confidence, dressed in something tight, her lips painted deep red, eyes locked on me like a predator spotting its prey.
"You’ve been avoiding me."
Taraj chuckled, watching the scene unfold. "Damn, my guy. You got it like that?" Shaking his head, he headed back to the sound booth.
I ignored both of them, focusing on the soundboard. "Tasha, what do you need?"
She smirked, biting her bottom lip. "I think you already know."
I was about to shut that shit down—until I heard another voice. Hers.
"Amir."
I turned so fast I almost knocked my water bottle off the table.
Amaya stood in the doorway, holding a takeout bag, her face unreadable, but her eyes flickered between me and Tasha—and I knew she saw exactly what was happening.
Tasha didn’t step back. If anything, she lingered on purpose. Testing. Pushing. Trying to see if she could shake something loose.
And Amaya didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, she stepped forward, all poise, all confidence, and placed the bag in front of me. "Figured you’d be hungry."
Tasha laughed under her breath. "Damn. You got her bringing you food now?"
Amaya turned her head just slightly. "Problem?"
Tasha’s smirk faltered, but she recovered quick. "Nah. Just funny, that’s all."
Amaya ignored her, eyes locking on mine. "I gotta go, but I’ll see you later?"
I nodded. "Yeah. You will."
She gave me a slow once-over, lips twitching like she wanted to say more, then turned and walked out.
Tasha made a low sound in her throat. "Hmph. That was cute."
I cut her a look. "Tasha, I ain’t got time for this shit.”
"Yeah, yeah. I get it."
Did she? Because I sure as hell did.
I was off the market and I didn’t want anyone else but Amaya.