Chapter 13 #2
The room was buzzing with pre-rehearsal energy: vocal warmups, half-finished coffees, the occasional chaotic note blasted just to annoy someone. The space was tight enough that they kept bumping shoulders, laughing, shoving each other in good fun.
Theo’s sigh could have powered the lights. “Can we begin?”
“That depends, Captain Clipboard. Are we going to work on a new number tonight?” That was Zane. “Because I think we’ve tortured ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ about as much as we can.” His dark eyes gleamed.
I bit back a grin, then mouthed Captain Clipboard?
Theo merely rolled his eyes again.
I headed toward a chair near the wall at the rear. The teasing felt like family squabbling, affectionate and irreverent. Within minutes, the room was full of the sounds of voices tuning, laughter colliding, and snippets of half-sung riffs.
Theo stood at the centre, a clipboard in hand.
Now there is a man whose body language screams order.
Theo levelled a look at Zane. “And yes, we’re starting with the new piece.” He began handing out sheets of paper. “‘Ain’t No Sunshine.’ I trust there are no complaints? And I swear, if anyone attempts to sing it like a karaoke lament, I’ll withdraw their coffee privileges.”
“Dictatorship confirmed,” Max muttered, but most of the group chuckled.
“And before anyone asks, yes, I have changed the pronouns. We’re a gay group, so we’re singing about a guy. Everyone okay with that?”
“No complaints here.” Julian glanced toward me. “That okay with you too, gorgeous?”
I grinned. “Absolutely.” I removed my sketchbook from my bag and flipped it open. My pen moved instinctively across the blank page, capturing the angles of bodies, the curve of motion, Milo’s expressive hands, Zane’s easy sway, the way Julian leaned into harmonies.
And always, at the centre, there was Theo.
His focus was absolute, sharp as a conductor’s baton even without one. When the voices clashed, he didn’t flinch, but stepped closer, adjusted, and coaxed. “No, Oliver—less chest, more blend. Zane, back off half a decibel. Liam, breathe before that pickup—yes, there.”
Within minutes, chaos became architecture.
I watched it all unfold, entranced. The man I’d been living with—so careful, so quietly intense—was suddenly larger than the room. His confidence wasn’t arrogance, but fluency. The others responded to him instinctively, like instruments tuning to a single key.
“Again,” Theo said. The song grew, layer upon layer of sound.
“Ain’t no sunshine when he’s gone…”
The blend hit low in my chest, and I forgot to draw. I sat forwards, elbows on my knees, pulled in before I had the chance to guard myself.
Oliver caught my eye during his baritone line and gave a small, warm grin, as if to say Yeah. We feel it too.
Then Theo joined in, and I forgot how to breathe for a second.
Theo’s voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t have to be. It was deep, steady, anchoring, the sound a river would make if it could hum.
It vibrated straight through my chest.
Theo didn’t look at me, but I felt the moment Theo noticed I was watching. There was a shift in posture, a subtle tightening of the shoulders, and a crack of awareness that moved between us like static.
Theo’s bass felt like gravity itself.
When the final chord faded, the silence rang louder than the music had.
Max stretched his arms overhead. “Well, that didn’t totally suck.”
“High praise indeed,” Theo said dryly. “Okay, let’s take it from the bridge.”
I laughed with the others, but my gaze never left Theo. I saw the precision in every gesture, the warmth hidden under control. Every time Theo looked up, our eyes met briefly, and each time, I felt that quiet pull tighten before Theo averted his gaze to refocus on the group.
I knew then that I wasn’t imagining it.
There’s a connection. Not safe, but real.
Theo caught me watching, and this time he held the gaze for a few seconds.
Long enough to make my stomach drop and my pulse quicken.
Theo called for a break. “That wasn’t terrible,” he admitted.
“Which in Theo-speak amounts to glowing praise,” Elliott said with a shy smile.
Max elbowed Theo. “Look at you pretending we weren’t great.”
Theo gave a half-smile, barely there, but real, and something in my chest pulled tight at the sight.
Julian dropped into the chair beside me. “So? Scale of one to spiritual awakening?”
I laughed. “Pretty damn impressive.”
Julian winked. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
Across the room, Theo glanced over, just a flicker, and I smiled at him.
Theo looked away too fast.
Theo
By the time rehearsal neared its end, my nerves felt as fragile as glass.
It wasn’t the group. They’d been good, better than I’d expected, in fact. No, it was the awareness of a single presence in the corner, quiet, watchful, soaking everything in.
I’d told myself letting Cameron come was harmless, but every time I caught his gaze, something inside me stuttered. It wasn’t distracting in the usual way; it grounded and destabilised me all at the same time, like singing in a key I’d never practised but somehow knew by heart.
I stared down at my notebook, though I wasn’t reading a word. Cameron’s smile was still there, ghosting behind my eyes. So was the heat that rose in my throat every time Cameron leaned forward to listen.
This was a mistake.
Cameron watching me sing felt way too intimate.
I was suddenly too warm.
“Everything okay?” Max murmured beside me, low enough for only me to hear.
I didn’t look up. “Fine.”
Max smirked. “Funny definition, but sure.”
I clenched my jaw and turned a page I didn’t need to turn. Across the room, Cameron laughed at something Julian said, and the sound sent a jolt straight down my spine.
Focus.
This means nothing.
But for the rest of rehearsal, my timing wavered by fractions of seconds—and Max noticed.
Julian noticed.
And worst of all, Cameron noticed. Every time I lost one breath of control, Cameron’s pen paused over the sketchbook, watching me.
Seeing me.
And I didn’t know what to do with that.
I need to get out of here.
I closed my notebook. “Good work. We’ll run it again Thursday.” He paused. “By the way… that rehearsal won’t be here. Those of you who had your audition in a studio in Soho? That’s going to be our new space. Max’ll send the rest of you the address in the WhatsApp group chat.”
That earned me beaming smiles and a chorus of whoops and cheers.
“Can we add Cameron to the group chat?” Sebastian asked. “I know he’s not part of Rough Harmony, but…well, he is, sort of.”
“Yeah, he’s one of the family,” Julian added.
I glanced at Max, my heart pounding.
Max shrugged. “Not a problem. I’ll do that as soon as I get his number.”
From his spot over by the wall, Cameron smiled. “Thanks, guys. That saves me chasing you all for phone numbers.”
I might not have been comfortable with the idea of bringing Cameron into our space, but it was obvious the group had adopted him.
Which implies he’ll be at more rehearsals.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“And on that note…” I squared my shoulders. “Goodnight.”
Chairs scraped, voices rose, and laughter filled the space again.
Max wandered over to me. “Your audience looks smitten,” he said under his breath. “You sure he’s straight? Because from where I’m sitting…”
I didn’t look up. “He’s enthusiastic, that’s all.” I wasn’t about to share. Max would have a field day armed with that little piece of information. When Max didn’t respond, I glanced at him.
Max was grinning. “Of course he is. And I’m the Virgin Mary.”
“Go home, Max.”
“Not yet. We need a debrief.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“Fine. Let me tell Cameron he can head home first.”
Then maybe I would be able to breathe.
Cameron
I packed away my sketchbook. I smiled as Theo walked over to me.
“That was incredible. I’ve never heard anything like it.”
Theo managed a faint smile. “They did well.” He looked away.
“They followed you,” I said simply.
“It’s a team effort.”
“Maybe. But you’re the pulse.”
Theo stuffed his notebook into his bag. “Flattery doesn’t suit you.”