here.”
“No.” Logan looked confused.
“I know the studio’s policy on chaperones and underage.” Cleo had her arms crossed over her chest. She wore a tight dress about a decade too young. “I was just out for a minute and then I was backstage. You just didn’t see me.”
“Okay.”
The mood had been killed; they took off shortly after that.
***
“Hello?” Baylee spoke groggily into her phone and yawned, shifting up on her pillow.
“Please. Please, will you do me a favor?” Ella’s voice sounded part pleading and part frustrated. “Our flutists didn’t show, well, one of them, but we need at least two.”
Baylee winced against the brightness of her phone and read seven am on the screen. “Is this a joke? I don’t do morning jokes. Can we have a joke later in the afternoon?”
“No. It’s a Christmas thing.”
“It’s summer.”
“That’s how it works. You record that stuff at least six months out. Sell the rights to TV. Get the contract in place… there are a ton of steps.”
“Oh.” Baylee let her eyelids close.
“Wake up. Please, Baylee. I told the producer I could find someone.”
“I’m up.” She struggled back up and kicked at the clinging blanket so she could get her legs over the side of the bed. “Is Tyler behind this?”
“No. We’re recording “Silent Night”. You know it, right?”
Baylee wandered into the bathroom, putting Ella on speaker and snagging her toothbrush. Even the toothbrush holder was made of the same gray and white marble as the walls, as if it sprouted from there. Vegas décor was crazy. She ran the bristles under the water and squeezed out the toothpaste. “I know it.” She’d played it every year in the high school band’s winter concert.
“Please say you’ll help me out.”
“I’ll help.” Baylee said goodbye and made Ella let her go so she could get ready.
She oddly wasn’t nervous. If she could help, she would. If they didn’t want to use her, whatever. It wasn’t how she felt about recording for her friend’s band at all. For that, she wanted to be perfect. Better than perfect. And she wasn’t there yet.
Baylee took a shower and headed out of her room. The car Ella sent was probably already downstairs, but the sight of Logan on the couch made her pause. The driver could wait five minutes.
She sat beside his sleeping form, and Logan’s eyes opened. “Baylee.” He put his arm around her waist and tugged her to him. He sounded tired and confused that she was there.
Baylee let him pull her against him, her back to him. She kept her voice soft. “Logan, why do you sleep on the couch?”
“It’s too quiet.” His voice was half muffled by the pillow. “After four years of boarding school, I need sound to go to sleep.”
“Ah.”
Leithville was small town quiet. Tyler had remarked on it numerous times when he stayed with them. To her, quiet was just normal. “Where I live, the only sounds at night are crickets, and the breeze. I don’t know how I’ll handle the dorms in the fall.”
He snuggled her closer. It was nice, laying there with him, in the dark of the apartment, whispering to him. She wanted to stay. The urge was incredibly tempting, but she’d promised Ella. “I have to go,” she whispered.
Logan tightened his arm on her waist, and his chest rose against her back as he breathed in.
“Yeah. I told Ella I’d help her out with a Christmas song.” Baylee swiveled to face him.
“You don’t want to be in a band.” One of his eyes popped open, but he left the other one closed; it gave him a half winking, half quizzical expression.
“This will be easy.” Baylee brushed his hair back from his temple, and he leaned his head into her hand, like he liked the motion.
He rubbed his palm flat up and down her back. The heat radiated through her thin T-shirt, the energy of the moment changed to a more charged feel. She shifted closer. Her phone buzzed, and Baylee pulled herself up, ignoring his mumbled
“No.” Logan looked confused.
“I know the studio’s policy on chaperones and underage.” Cleo had her arms crossed over her chest. She wore a tight dress about a decade too young. “I was just out for a minute and then I was backstage. You just didn’t see me.”
“Okay.”
The mood had been killed; they took off shortly after that.
***
“Hello?” Baylee spoke groggily into her phone and yawned, shifting up on her pillow.
“Please. Please, will you do me a favor?” Ella’s voice sounded part pleading and part frustrated. “Our flutists didn’t show, well, one of them, but we need at least two.”
Baylee winced against the brightness of her phone and read seven am on the screen. “Is this a joke? I don’t do morning jokes. Can we have a joke later in the afternoon?”
“No. It’s a Christmas thing.”
“It’s summer.”
“That’s how it works. You record that stuff at least six months out. Sell the rights to TV. Get the contract in place… there are a ton of steps.”
“Oh.” Baylee let her eyelids close.
“Wake up. Please, Baylee. I told the producer I could find someone.”
“I’m up.” She struggled back up and kicked at the clinging blanket so she could get her legs over the side of the bed. “Is Tyler behind this?”
“No. We’re recording “Silent Night”. You know it, right?”
Baylee wandered into the bathroom, putting Ella on speaker and snagging her toothbrush. Even the toothbrush holder was made of the same gray and white marble as the walls, as if it sprouted from there. Vegas décor was crazy. She ran the bristles under the water and squeezed out the toothpaste. “I know it.” She’d played it every year in the high school band’s winter concert.
“Please say you’ll help me out.”
“I’ll help.” Baylee said goodbye and made Ella let her go so she could get ready.
She oddly wasn’t nervous. If she could help, she would. If they didn’t want to use her, whatever. It wasn’t how she felt about recording for her friend’s band at all. For that, she wanted to be perfect. Better than perfect. And she wasn’t there yet.
Baylee took a shower and headed out of her room. The car Ella sent was probably already downstairs, but the sight of Logan on the couch made her pause. The driver could wait five minutes.
She sat beside his sleeping form, and Logan’s eyes opened. “Baylee.” He put his arm around her waist and tugged her to him. He sounded tired and confused that she was there.
Baylee let him pull her against him, her back to him. She kept her voice soft. “Logan, why do you sleep on the couch?”
“It’s too quiet.” His voice was half muffled by the pillow. “After four years of boarding school, I need sound to go to sleep.”
“Ah.”
Leithville was small town quiet. Tyler had remarked on it numerous times when he stayed with them. To her, quiet was just normal. “Where I live, the only sounds at night are crickets, and the breeze. I don’t know how I’ll handle the dorms in the fall.”
He snuggled her closer. It was nice, laying there with him, in the dark of the apartment, whispering to him. She wanted to stay. The urge was incredibly tempting, but she’d promised Ella. “I have to go,” she whispered.
Logan tightened his arm on her waist, and his chest rose against her back as he breathed in.
“Yeah. I told Ella I’d help her out with a Christmas song.” Baylee swiveled to face him.
“You don’t want to be in a band.” One of his eyes popped open, but he left the other one closed; it gave him a half winking, half quizzical expression.
“This will be easy.” Baylee brushed his hair back from his temple, and he leaned his head into her hand, like he liked the motion.
He rubbed his palm flat up and down her back. The heat radiated through her thin T-shirt, the energy of the moment changed to a more charged feel. She shifted closer. Her phone buzzed, and Baylee pulled herself up, ignoring his mumbled
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