Jamie hesitated. “That’s the thing. I’m staying at Clayton’s for the summer.”
Shorty pushed up his hat, frowning. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No joke,” Clayton said, reaching for Jamie’s hand. “We’re together now.”
Shorty blinked. “What the fuck?”
Jamie and Clayton exchanged a look—Shorty never swore.
“We’re happy,” Jamie said gently.
Shorty stared at them, processing. Then he shook his head. “You two hate each other.”
“Hate and love are two sides of the same coin,” Clayton said.
Shorty let out a long breath. “Do you have any idea what kind of storm this is going to cause?”
Jamie frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The press. The fans. The industry.” Shorty pulled off his hat and rubbed his forehead. “There’s already a ton of speculation about you two, and now it’s going to explode. And not in a good way.”
Clayton waved a hand dismissively. “Let them talk.”
Shorty’s expression hardened. “That attitude might work for you, but Jamie’s single is taking off. If this turns into a circus it won’t just be a distraction—it could change the entire narrative around her music.”
Jamie’s stomach dropped. She hadn’t thought about it like that. She’d spent years building her career, controlling her image. The last thing she needed was for all the attention to shift from her music to whatever people thought was happening between her and Clayton.
Shorty glanced between them, his usual easy-going demeanor replaced with sharp focus. “You need a plan. Fast. Before this blows up in your faces.”
Jamie exhaled slowly. “What do you suggest?”
Shorty rubbed his beard, thinking. “I’ll bring in a film crew. They’ll capture you two recording. We’ll release the single as a behind-the-scenes video and control the story before the media runs wild with their own version.”
The crew arrived a few hours later, setting up lights and reflectors while cameras rolled. They captured everything—the missed lyrics, the laughter, the way Jamie and Clayton instinctively leaned into the music, perfectly in sync despite their differences.
She focused on the song but the cameras saw more than just the music. They caught how Clayton watched her when he thought she wasn’t looking. The way their voices blended, as if they’d been doing this for years.
When they wrapped Shorty looked satisfied. “This feels raw and real—exactlywhat we need.”
Jamie wasn’t sure if he meant for the fans or something else entirely.
A few days later Jamie returned to the studio to re-record a part she wasn’t happy with. Clayton’s vocals were flawless—of course they were. But she wasn’t about to let him outshine her.
She entered the control room and Dusty and Evan pulled up her track on the screen.
“It sounds great, Jamie,” Dusty said. “If there’s anything you want tweaked I can fix it in post.”
“Nope,” she said. “Not using editing on this. Sorry.”
Dusty sighed. “If you insist.”
She walked into the vocal booth, adjusted her headphones, and breathed. One take, that’s all she needed. When the verse came through the speakers, it was perfect.
“We got it,” Dusty’s voice boomed through the mic. “Come in here for a sec, please.”
She pulled off her headphones. “What’s up?”
“The artist I’m producing wants to know if you have any songs.”
