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Starstruck (Heartstrings Duet #1) 10. feeling fine 16%
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10. feeling fine

[ 10 ]

FEELING FINE

BAXTER

“SON’S GONNA RISE” BY CITIZEN COPE

A few days later, I sit on my living room couch with Isa sitting across from me. I have Colt on one side and Levi on the other, while Kevin paces a hole in the floor behind us, putting out a fire for one of the other artists he manages.

At least it’s not me—for once.

Isa looks at me with narrowed eyes. “Okay, so not that I’m complaining or anything”—she scans the three of us, beginning with Levi and holding on Colt, a smirk playing on her face before she glances back at me—“but what the hell am I doing here?”

A chuckle escapes me at the clear appreciation yet confusion laced in her tone. “Well,” I begin. “I have a proposition for you…”

Isa jolts back at my words as Colt’s elbow connects with my side before I realize how unintentionally dirty that sounds.

Eyes widening, I hold my hands out to Isa, hoping I haven’t scared her away already. Though she doesn’t seem like the type to scare easily. “As fun as that would be”—I smirk—“that’s not what I meant.”

She breathes a sigh of relief, her shoulders slumping. “Then what did you mean?”

I clear my throat. “I accidentally wrote a duet.”

Isa looks at me skeptically. “How does one accidentally write a duet?” she asks, laughing.

“I don’t know. But I did it.”

She shrugs. “It was bound to happen someday, I guess. It really is about time you learn to share the spotlight, Baxter.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever, Isabella,” I retort, using her full name even though hardly anybody calls her that. “Like you’re much better.”

A scoff escapes her as she crosses her arms over her chest. “At least I’ve done duets, Mr. I Don’t Play Well With Others .”

A shit-eating grin crosses my face, and I know from our banter alone, this will be fun.

“Alright, you two,” Kevin drones, finally joining the conversation. He shoots me his typical I don’t have time for your shit manager look. “Baxter, cut to the chase.”

I sigh. “Alright, fine.” Leaning forward, I meet Isa’s eyes. “Do you wanna sing a duet with me?”

Isa crosses one leg over the other and rests her elbow on her knee. Her eyes narrow, and a smirk plays on her face. “Depends,” she begins with a shrug. “Are you asking because you want me , or because everyone else said no?”

I scoff, appalled that she would even think she would be my last resort. Colt huffs a laugh from beside me, shaking his head, while Levi’s eyes widen in amusement.

Kevin rolls his yet again and clears his throat. “You’re actually the first one he agreed to, believe it or not,” my manager shares.

Isa hums. “ Not . But I’ll bite.” She pauses for a moment. “I’m gonna need to hear the song first.”

A smile forms as I pick up the remote for my built-in surround-sound system. “I figured,” I say, hitting play.

The opening riffs for “That Girl” begin, and she leans back, closing her eyes and drowning us all out to listen to the lyrics.

When the song comes to an end, a grin forms across her face.

“I see what you mean. I still don’t know how you did it by mistake, but you definitely wrote a duet.” A strange look crosses her face before she asks, “When did you write it?”

My brows furrow. I’m not sure what that has to do with anything, but I tell her anyway. “A few weeks ago. Why?”

“Just curious.” She stands and rounds the couch before facing me again. “It’s good. I’d be happy to sing it with you.” She begins to head toward the front door, so I get up and follow. “But we’re going to need to make a few lyric and note changes to better suit my style, too. So if you’re not willing to play nice, tell me now.”

I hold back an eye roll and nod reluctantly, grinding my teeth. We’re not changing the song, but I’ll let her think she at least has some creative control.

“I’ll play nice,” I grumble, though I know no one is buying it. I still can’t believe I let them talk me into this.

It seems to be enough for Isa though, because she smiles. “Fantastic. Have your people”—she tosses a look toward Kevin, who is once again distracted with another client—“call my people and we can set up a time to record. But you’re going to need to work around my schedule, because I’m currently recording my own album and helping a friend with some planning for a concert in the summer.”

I open my mouth to argue that we need to do it as soon as possible, but she turns her back to me and leaves before I have a chance. The door slams shut behind her, and I stand there, slack-jawed and extremely confused.

Because what the hell just happened?

People don’t demand things from me . I demand things from people.

“Remind me again why I agreed to do this?” I ask no one in particular, a frown marring my face.

A hand lands on my shoulder, and I startle .

“She sure is a firecracker, that one.” Colt chuckles by my side. “This is going to be fun.”

It’s another week before we’re able to agree on a time to record—I’ve been busy finalizing the other songs on my album, while Isa has been working on recording hers. We only have today, and I’m determined to not let this take longer than that, seeing how difficult it was for us to work this one into our schedules.

Isa and I sit in my studio, her with a pen between her fingers and me with a guitar in my lap. We’ve been at it for a few hours now, and things are coming along nicely. Though I initially said we weren’t changing the song…she has made a few good suggestions that I would be stupid to ignore.

I pick at the strings as she writes down the lyric changes we just made, and suddenly my mouth is moving before my brain has a chance to tell it to stop.

“So, how do you know the Thornes?” is the genius question that comes out.

She looks up from her notebook, a confused look on her face. “Who said I know the Thornes?”

“I—” I cut myself off, sighing. “I just assumed. I saw you at the funeral.”

She chuckles. “There were, like, seven hundred people at the funeral, James ,” she says flatly. “And I’m signed to their label. Obviously, I’d be at the funeral. Just like you were.”

I run a hand down my face. She’s right. There’s no way I could conclude that she was close with them from seeing her there. “Touché, Cordova,” I mutter. “ Touché.”

She just looks at me, waiting. I should’ve shut up when I had the chance, because now it’s obvious she knows I’m not telling the truth, and the weight of her stare is enough to make me uncomfortable.

I let out a sigh and admit, “I was at the reception.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” She narrows her eyes at me. “ I was at the reception, along with maybe twenty others, including the Thornes. I would’ve known if you were there. We all would’ve.”

I set the guitar down beside me, leaning back on the couch. “I didn’t go inside. I was going to, but then I saw…” I trail off, realizing I probably shouldn’t share the private moment of Lennon’s I witnessed. “I just decided it’d be better if I didn’t.”

She stares at me, one brow raised as if to say bullshit , but her lips don’t move. Feeling like I’m being examined, I shift in my seat and pull out a cigarette. I offer one to her, and she takes it, placing the filtered end between her lips and lighting it.

“Forget I asked,” I mutter, not enjoying the way she’s reading me.

“To answer your question,” Isa says with a smirk, a cloud of smoke falling from her lips. “Lennon and I are best friends. I’ve known the Thornes for years.”

I’m taking a puff of my smoke as she says that, and then I’m coughing, her words striking me right in the chest. I was expecting her to say she was a family friend, not that she’s best friends with Lennon.

I catch my breath and look up to find her watching me with narrowed eyes and a wicked smirk.

Oh, she definitely knows. So much for trying to be subtle.

I scoff. “You know, don’t you?”

She crosses one leg over the other, an innocent smile playing on her lips. “Why, what on Earth could I possibly know?” she asks innocently. “Oh! Are you talking about what happened in the bathroom at Astro and how you let Lennon spend the night in your bed? Because if so, then yes , I fucking know.” The shit- eating grin on her face suggests this conversation is one she’s been waiting for.

I shoot my own shit-eating grin back at her. “So, she told you about the best sex of her life?”

Isa rolls her eyes. “Okay, yes , but how arrogant do you have to be to assume that’s what she said?”

“Well, isn’t it?” I shrug. “Besides, it was the best sex of mine, so I just figured if it was that good for me, it was even better for her.”

“I suppose the eight orgasms speak for themselves, don’t they?” she jokes, completely unphased by talking about her best friend’s sex life.

Women are strange.

Though, I suppose Levi isn’t much better.

“Nine,” I correct. “It was nine orgasms.”

“Oh, my bad,” she mock-apologizes, her eyes rolling, and laughs. “Man, she really wasn’t lying when she said you’re a cocky son of a bitch, was she?”

My brows furrow. “She said that?”

Isa nods, unwilling to elaborate. I can’t help but feel a pang in my chest knowing that’s what Lennon thinks of me, even if, for the most part, it’s the truth.

“Answer something for me,” she prompts.

“What?”

“Is this song about her?”

My heart works its way up my throat as I scramble to come up with a response. “I’ll tell you if you do something for me.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “You mean more than singing a duet with you?” Her eyes roll. “What else?”

“Give me Lennon’s phone number,” I demand with no hesitation.

Her face morphs into a smirk that mirrors mine. “Ha!” she exclaims. “Well, you just unintentionally answered my question.”

I roll my eyes, letting out a sigh. “Please? ”

Isa laughs. “Sorry, James. I’m not giving you her number. If you want it, you’ll have to get it from her yourself.”

I groan, gritting my teeth. “How am I supposed to do that if I don’t know anything about her?”

Isa stands, moving toward the recording booth. “You’re creative. I’m sure you’ll think of something,” she teases. “Now, can we get this song recorded? I have places to be and things to do that don’t include you .”

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