Lily shakes her head with a smile, “Jeez, if I thought he was hard to live with before, this is going to make it even harder.”
Sadie smirks and continues, shooting a glance in Dean’s direction.“Dean Ross brings a different kind of fire, and it’s sharp, restless, and impossible to ignore. His guitar riffs don’t just complement the music, it challenges it. Pushes it. Dares it to become something bigger.”
Dean points at the magazine. “Now that, that you can frame. I want that on the wall.”
“You would,” Luc shoots back.
A ripple of laughter moves through the room. Sadie flips the page slightly, her tone softening just a touch.“Together, they create a sound that feels both controlled and on the edge of unraveling, held together by something deeper than talent alone.”
Mikey leans in closer to me, his shoulder resting against mine now, his attention completely locked in. Sadie doesn’t look up this time. She shifts her weight slightly, eyes flicking across the page before she continues.“And then there’s Hayden Sloane who is measured, composed, and impossible to read at first glance.”
A few heads turn toward him automatically. Hayden doesn’t move much. Just leans back a fraction, one brow lifting like he’s already decided he’s not participating in whatever this is. Sadie keeps going, unfazed.“Where others burn bright and loud, he’s something quieter. Controlled. Intentional. The kind of presence that doesn’t demand attention, but holds it anyway.”
Dean lets out a low hum. “That’s annoyingly accurate.”
Hayden just smirks, barely. Sadie goes on.“There’s a depth there you don’t fully understand until you’re looking for it, but once you see it, it’s impossible to ignore.”
A beat passes. Not long. Just enough to let it land as she continues.“But what anchors Devil’s Halo isn’t just what happens at the front of the stage, it’s what drives it from behind.”She keeps reading.“The rhythm section is the band’s pulse. It’s steady, intuitive, and impossible to shake. There’s a quiet precision there, a constant presence that doesn’t demand attention but earns it all the same.”
Dean nudges Mikey with his foot. “That’s you, man.”
“Shut up,” He mutters, but it comes out quiet, his cheeks flaring a dark pink.
“Drummer Michael ‘Mikey’ Sarris, younger brother to Luc,” she pauses just long enough to glance at him, a hint of a smile tugging at her mouth,“brings something deceptively effortless to the stage. There’s a looseness to him, an ease that masks just how much control he holds over every beat.”
The room fades a little around the edges as I slide my fingers through his. Not subtle. Not careful. Not hiding.“He doesn’tfight for the spotlight. He doesn’t need to. Because once you notice him, you realize he’s been carrying the weight of the entire set all along.”
“Well, damn,” someone says.
Dean lets out a low whistle. “Okay, Mikey. We see you.”
He huffs out a laugh, dragging a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get emotional on me.” I squeeze his hand and lock my gaze with his letting him know I see him. I’ve always seen him. And then the moment is gone as Luc pops a bottle of champagne and begins spraying the room with it, cheers and whoops breaking out.
We decide to head out an hour later, the celebration still in full swing, but we both acknowledge we’d had enough. I drive us, since he’s had a few drinks. He looks softer now, relaxed in the passenger seat, head tipped back against the seat as city lights flicker across his face. The leftover energy of the studio fades slowly between us. I like seeing him like this. Calm. Unguarded. The silence isn’t awkward. It’s comfortable.
He turns his head slightly. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I’m good.”
I’m suddenly very aware of him beside me. The closeness. The quiet. When I pull into his spot behind the apartment, neither of us moves right away. The engine hums softly before I shut it off, leaving us wrapped in silence.
He turns toward me. “I’m really glad you showed up tonight.”
Something warm unfurls low in my stomach. “Yeah?”
His smile is small, honest. “Made my night better having you there to celebrate that with us. With me.”
The words settle between us. I look at him. Really look. The softness in his eyes. The way he’s watching me like he’s waiting for something. My heartbeat kicks harder. The silence stretches. Not awkward, but heavy, like it’s waiting for one of us to finallystop pretending. I turn toward him fully. “I’d really like you to kiss me now.”
The words land between us, clear and steady leaving no room to misread them. His expression shifts instantly. It’s not surprise. It’s something deeper, darker. Like something he’s been holding in that finally gets let loose. His eyes search mine for half a second. “You sure?”
I nod. Slow. Certain. “And this time,” my voice softens but it doesn’t waver, “I’d really like it if we didn’t stop.”
That does it. Something in him snaps into place. His hand comes up immediately, fingers sliding along my jaw, first this time, no testing, no hesitation as he pulls me in.
This kiss hits harder. Deeper. Like we skipped right past everything we’ve already done and landed exactly where we were always headed. My hand finds his shirt, gripping, pulling him closer as I lean in fully until there’s no space left between us.
He exhales against my mouth, rough and real, like he’s done pretending he’s not just as far gone as I am. “Careful,” his lips brushing against mine as he speaks. “You know I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”
