“I can’t do the anthem, but I can’t say no,” I say abruptly.
He blinks. “You haven’t even answered your producer.”
“I know.”
“And the deadline’s tomorrow.”
“I know.”
He watches me carefully now.
“She got to you.”
I stop pacing.
“She didn’t get to me.”
He lifts a brow.
I exhale.
“She reminded me what it feels like.”
“To what?”
“To feel something real. To mean it.”
The room goes quiet.
I gesture vaguely toward the mic setup.
“I’ve been writing noise,” I admit. “Big hooks. Big drops. Crowd-pleasers. But it’s empty.”
“And now?”
“Now there’s something in my head that won’t shut up.”
Nate’s expression shifts.
Curious.
“What kind of something?”
I move to the piano without thinking and press a few keys.
Soft.
Minor.
Then I change it.
Lift it.
Add warmth.
I hear her laugh.
See her in that yellow blouse.