Chapter Four
Annie
I’m somewhere between asleep and awake, drifting in that perfect in-between where everything feels right.
This is where the music comes.
Harmony and melody wrap around me, the bass and treble pulsing through my veins as notes float in the air, colliding and twisting together into something new. Something powerful. The sound builds, layer upon layer, until it vibrates through me, deep and steady.
I love this place.
This is where Staked’s songs are born.
If I stay here long enough, I’ll hear the whole thing—every note, every shift—and when I wake, I can write it down before it fades.
“Annie…”
My name threads through the music, soft and distant, like part of the song.
“Annie…”
The melody begins to slip.
The voice grows louder, breaking the rhythm and pulling me out of it. My world fractures, and suddenly I’m falling, ripped from the music and dragged back into reality.
“Annie, get up!”
I open my eyes slowly.
Mum is in my room, scooping clothes off the floor like we’re running late for something important.
I drop my head back onto the pillow and groan, squeezing my eyes shut against the light.
“Annie, honey, c’mon. Susan will be here soon,” Mum berates.
I groan again and yank the pillow over my head. “I was writing music, Mum. You pulled me out of it,” I mumble, annoyed. It was good too. Really good. And now it’s gone.
“What? Annie, you’re making no sense. Get up and come downstairs. Aston will be here soon. It’s almost nine,” she says, already heading for the door with an armful of my clothes.
I drag the pillow off my head and throw it weakly in her direction. “Turn the light off,” I call.
“No, Annie. Get up. Now,” she shoots back, disappearing into the hallway.
I burrow back under the covers anyway.
School can wait.
The darkness settles in again, and for a second, just a second, the music starts to come back. The same song, looping through my head, pulling me under—
“Lennox.”
I groan loudly as I’m dragged out of it again, this time even faster.
I roll over to find Aston sitting on the edge of my bed, watching me with a smirk.
“Were you dreaming about a new song?” he asks.
I sit up, rubbing my eyes, and then it hits me.
The song is gone.
“Oh, crap,” I mutter, leaning forward and punching his arm.
“Ow! What was that for?” he asks, rubbing the spot.
“Because I had the best song in my head, and now it’s gone. Again. That’s twice I’ve been woken up mid-dream.”
“They need to invent something that records dreams,” he says. “The way you describe them, they sound unreal.”
“They are,” I say, stretching and yawning. “I love my dreams.”
“Well, you better get downstairs. Your mum said if I get you up, I get extra bacon. So hurry up, because this pig needs pig,” he says, grinning.
I laugh. “You’re a dick.”
“I looove bacon. Sue me. Now get up… it’s already nine-thirty. Susan will be here soon,” he says, grabbing my hand and hauling me out of bed.
I stumble up, still half asleep, my oversized 12GAUGE-Slayed T-shirt barely covering my underwear. I drag my hands through my tangled hair and rub my face, trying to wake up.
When I open my eyes, Aston’s staring…
At my legs.
His eyes are wide, his grin slightly dazed.
“Hey,” I say, shoving his shoulder.
He snaps out of it instantly. “What? Huh?”
“Get downstairs so I can get dressed,” I say, raising a brow. “And now I’m eating your extra bacon for gawking.”
He chuckles. “You were going to eat it anyway.”
“Then I’ll eat all of it.”
“Not if I get there first,” he shoots back, then leans in, presses a quick kiss to my forehead, and bolts from the room.
I shake my head, laughing softly to myself before getting dressed, by pulling on my usual baggy gray joggers and an old flannelette shirt. It’s not exactly stylish, but it is comfortable, and that’s all I care about. It’s just me, Ella, Aston, and Susan today anyway.
Ella, on the other hand, always looks like she’s about to walk a runway, even in pajamas. I don’t get it. Clothes are clothes. Comfort wins every time.
I head downstairs, the smell of bacon hitting me before I even reach the kitchen.
Now that is a smell worth waking up for.
My stomach growls as I step inside, taking in the scene. Ella’s in one of her perfect outfits, Mum and Dad are cooking, and there is coffee brewing.
I move toward the table, and the moment I step in, I feel it.
That familiar tingle.
Aston’s here somewhere.
I sit down and check my phone, pretending to be blasé.
“You could at least try with your appearance,” Ella mutters under her breath. “You look like trailer trash.”
“Shut up,” I fire back quietly. “Just because you need to look like a walking fashion advertisement doesn’t mean I do. I’m comfortable. That’s all that matters.”
“You look perfect to me, Lennox,” Aston says as he walks in with the dogs trailing behind him.
“See,” I shoot at Ella.
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”
Aston drops into the seat beside me, and I smirk as he winks.
“Okay, kids, come and get it,” Dad calls.
I scoff, folding my arms. “How many times do I have to say it? I’m not a kid.”
Ella and Aston laugh.
I glare at them, and they immediately stop.
“Annie, don’t start,” Dad says evenly. “Lose the attitude and get your breakfast, or you can go without.”
My stomach growls again as he plates up bacon and sausages.
“Dammit,” I mutter, pushing to my feet and following the others to the counter.
There’s chatter around me, but I barely hear any of it while I eat. By the time we’re done, I’m completely stuffed, thanks to the extra crispy bacon Aston ‘didn’t want.’
Apparently, he’s protecting his abs.
Lucky for me, I don’t have that problem.
And honestly? Bacon makes everything better.
The food helps, though. I’m still tired and a little grumpy, but at least I’m human again and ready to face school after the weekend.
We head toward the study just as the gate buzzer sounds. Mum moves to let whoever it is in, so I keep walking with Aston and Ella into the room we use for lessons.
Dad left a few minutes ago. Something about meeting Rob—12GAUGE-Slayed’s agent—to talk about another tour.
Which sucks.
Even though we clash, I hate it when he’s gone for weeks at a time. Mum does too, even if she doesn’t always say it.
Maybe one day, when Staked makes it, we’ll go with him. Open for them. Tour together.
That would be… perfect.
Mum finds it hard when he’s away. As the PR Manager for 12GAUGE-Slayed, she’s constantly working, even from home, while still keeping an eye on Ella and me. But she handles it. She always does. The band is just as popular now as it’s ever been, even after all these years.
I drop into my seat behind my desk.
Dad wanted this room set up like a proper classroom, so we’ve got three desks lined up in a row facing Susan’s larger desk, with an Interactive SMART Board behind her. Bookshelves cover the walls, mostly filled with music books, but there’s enough actual school stuff to make it feel legit.
Susan’s been teaching us for as long as I can remember. Pretty sure Dad had us ‘learning’ before we could even walk.
Okay, maybe not that early—but close.
Honestly, I don’t mind. I get to spend every day with my sister and my best friend.
Life could be worse.
Well… except for maths and science. Nothing could make those subjects better.
I open my laptop, sitting in my usual spot—Aston on my left, Ella on my right—just as Susan walks in with her oversized bag.
“Morning, guys,” she says in her soft, high-pitched voice.
“Hi, Susan,” we all reply at once, then laugh.
She smiles. “All right, today we’re diving into algebra. So I need you all paying attention.” She reaches into her bag, like, really reaches, and for a second I swear she’s about to pull out a lamp or a dancing penguin.
Instead, she pulls out textbooks.
Aston groans under his breath.
Same.
We’d both rather play guitar than figure out why X equals something it clearly shouldn’t.
Give me an E note on the sixth string any day over algebra.
“Okay, laptops open. Take notes as we go, please,” Susan says.
I open a Word document and glance across at Ella. She’s already typing away like this is the most exciting thing in the world.
Of course she is.
She’s one of those people who gets everything. Doesn’t even have to try. Meanwhile, Aston and I usually need things explained a couple of times before they click.
But when it comes to music?
That’s where we’ve got the edge.
So I guess it balances out.
I look back at the SMART Board and start typing, trying to focus, when the little email icon pops up on my screen.
I flick my eyes up to Susan to make sure she’s not looking, then open it.
From Aston.
I smirk and glance sideways at him.
He’s already looking back at the board like he’s the most attentive student in the room.
To: Annie Slade
From: Aston Soulding
Subject: Booooooring!
OMG, how crap is it that it’s math again today? Maybe we should change our Friday trip to the strip club and bar to now? Think she’d notice if we snuck out? Tattoos are on me. lol
I chuckle to myself and look back up to see Susan still writing away on the SMART Board, blabbering on about the ‘commutative property of addition can add numbers in any order’ or some bullshit. I’m not even listening. So I hit reply.
To: Aston Soulding
From: Annie Slade
Subject: Re: Booooooring!
I think, seeing as there are only four people in the room, two of them missing might be a little too obvious.
Maybe we have to stick it out until lunchtime, then say we’re violently ill from our lunch and have to go to the music room across the hall to rest. Shit!
Doubt that will work either! Crap! I think we just have to sit through this boring shit until one of us dies from lack of brain excitement.
I hit send and glance sideways at him again to see if he’s read it, while a grin tugs at my lips. This is how we survive most days, emailing back and forth until something remotely interesting happens.
The little icon pops up again.
I open it and snort at the green face throwing up.
“Annie, is something funny?” Susan asks, turning to face me.