24. Hazel
HAZEL
Everything that’s happened since I met the Curran brothers has felt like a waking dream, like a vacation from my real life. But having sex with Conal was very, very real.
My skin feels shimmery, as if every cell has been activated. My cheeks are probably still flushed, and there’s a phantom presence between my legs, as if Conal’s still inside me.
I feel light, but also more grounded than I’ve felt in days. This is really happening. I’m actually married to a trio of sexy rock stars, and now our marriage has been consummated.
There’s a shift in the air as we walk into the kitchen, and as I’m about to pass Bron’s chair on my way to get food, he tugs me down into his lap.
He nuzzles my ear and kisses my neck. He’s staking his claim, and even though I’ve just been with his brother, my body tells me it wouldn’t mind going another round.
How is this my life?
Conal brings me a cup of tea, with the tea bag still in it, along with a raspberry danish, my favorite.
He has two pastries and three hard-boiled eggs piled on his plate, and I can’t help but think about how he worked up such an appetite this morning.
All three guys are quiet for a while, even though Rafe and Bron are already done eating. Eventually, Bron says, “Are you planning to come into the studio with us today, Hazel?”
His tone tells me the invitation isn’t just a courtesy; he sounds like he wants me there.
“Would you mind if I took pictures of you while you work?” I ask all three of them. “I’m eager to try out the new camera.”
“That’s fine with me,” Bron says, and his brothers nod in agreement.
When they leave to go work, I tidy the kitchen, then head back upstairs to get my equipment. I’m glad to have something to occupy both my hands and my mind today, because I keep thinking about what happened in the shower, and it wouldn’t do for me to sit around with a silly grin on my face all day.
I’m still surprised that Conal fit inside me as well as he did, and that it felt as good as it did. I know sex generally feels good for people, but not necessarily their first time, and maybe not when their partner is hung like a horse!
It’s a relief to have experience now, though I can’t keep from speculating about how things might be with Rafe, and with Bron. It’s going to be like having three first times.
Back downstairs, I creep into the studio, hoping not to disturb anyone. I find a spot in the corner, where I have a good view of all three Currans, and for a while, I just watch and listen.
They’re working on a bluesy number, and they’re all so into it.
They’re having fun and joking with some of the other musicians, riffing on their guitars and drums, but they’re not goofing off.
They’re serious about their music, focused on doing a good job and getting it right, and it makes me admire them.
Of course, they wouldn’t be so successful if they didn’t work hard, though their good looks could probably take them a long way. I’d enjoy watching them play even if I were wearing noise-cancelling headphones, but it just so happens that their music sounds as good as they look.
Eventually, I pull out my camera and start fiddling with the settings to try to get good exposure without using the flash, since that would definitely be distracting.
Framing each of the men individually in my viewfinder helps me zero in on their unique qualities. Conal’s charisma comes through loud and clear, even in a still image. The way he pours himself into the lyrics is evident in his face, his posture, and every move he makes.
Rafe’s usual intensity is multiplied when he’s in the studio.
He plays like life itself depends on it, and I snap countless pictures that highlight the strong cut of his jaw and the snarl of his lips as he shreds the guitar.
When I focus on his fingerwork, my skin blazes with the memory of how skillfully those fingers make my body sing.
Bron, meanwhile, manages to be playful while never missing a beat. His entire body keeps the rhythm with impressive athleticism, but every time I aim my camera at him, he grins and winks at me, or sticks out his tongue.
He juggles his drumsticks a couple of times, too, earning a side-eye from Conal .
Apparently, I get into my own groove taking pictures and lose track of time, because I’m startled when the band breaks for lunch.
I could have cooked something if I had been paying attention, but they order takeout from a barbecue place.
I tell myself it’s just as well, since there’ll be less for the housekeeper to clean up.
After lunch, they head back into the studio, and I follow along. Reviewing the pictures I took in the morning, I’m pleased to see that they’re not all terrible. I study the ones I like and try to keep them in mind as I take more.
The men have moved on to a different track, but it’s not sounding the way they want.
They try it at a slower tempo, but that’s not the answer.
The sound engineer suggests stripping out the harmonies, and isolates the track to do that, but when he plays it back, Conal shakes his head. “No, it needs the harmonies.”
Out of nowhere, Bron says, “Hazel, what do you think?”
“Oh!” I nearly drop my camera. “I, uh, I’m not a musician.”
“You’re still allowed to have an opinion.” Conal’s smile tells me he’s teasing me, but it’s gentle .
“Well … the lyrics are different from most of your songs. Maybe they need a different … not the tempo, but—I forget what you call it.”
“Time signature?” Rafe suggests.
“Maybe? I’m not sure what that is.”
“It’s whether it sounds like this—” he plays some chords the way he has been, a hard-driving one-two-three-four “—or like this,” and it suddenly sounds like a waltz, “—or this,” and the chords and notes wind around each other in a sinuous pattern like a snake.
“That sounds nice. I like that.”
Rafe grins at the other musicians. “Let’s try it.”
They jam a little, as if they’re trying the new feel of the music on for size, then they do the whole song with the new time signature. When they’re done, everyone looks at Conal.
“It’s wild,” he says, “but it works.” He smiles over at me. “Thanks, babe.”
I blush, pleased but also embarrassed to be singled out in front of the whole crew.
Conal grins, and I blush harder. Can everyone tell what we did this morning?
I immediately realize that’s a silly question, since they know we’re married, and they probably assume we’re having sex every morning and every night, but my cheeks burn regardless.
It’s late when they break for dinner, and someone orders pizza and pasta from an Italian place. I’m disappointed that I didn’t cook any meals today, but being in the studio and having them ask me about that song was unbelievably special.
After dinner, Bron takes my hand and leads me upstairs, and my heart finds a new, faster tempo.