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Maelie
Later that evening, Maelie sat across the kitchen table from Jessie, picking the veggies off of her friend’s weird goat cheese pizza. It wasn’t bad, and she really was grateful for not having to come up with her own sustenance for the evening.
“I finished a drawing today for your book,” Jessie remarked as she dangled a long thread of cheese into her mouth. “I think you’re really going to like it.”
Maelie perked up a little at the mention of her book. She was writing a violin pedagogy book for early beginners, and Jessie was illustrating it. “Really? Yay! I can’t wait to see it,” she said around a large bite of crust. “I think I’ve figured out the rhythms I want to include for the introductory exercises. I used them on Maya today; she loved them.”
Her long-limbed friend wound her legs under her butt and leaned forward, naturally with the movement, her hair fell in a long dark sheet to her side. “Oh, good, you’ve been stuck on that decision for a while, right?”
“Couple months.” She hated how long she had been dragging her feet, but the decision was an important one, and if she wanted to get this book published, she had to take her time and get it absolutely perfect.
“Baby steps, right?” she offered.
“Baby steps.”
“How was work otherwise?”
Maelie’s mind spun like a top right back to the image of Sebastian Adams with his saxophone slung sexily from his neck and how his years of playing had given him particularly yummy forearms. “A mixed bag, really.” She popped the last bit of crust into her mouth before standing to clear their plates. “I think my new neighbor is going to be a problem.”
“The hot one?” Jessie picked up the empty pizza tray and carried it over to the sink.
“Yup, he seems nice and all but ...”
Jessie waited patiently for her to continue.
“He is blissfully unaware of how loud his instrument is.” She cringed as she remembered her awkward behavior when she approached him about it. She must have looked out of her mind. She flopped against the counter. “I had to ask him to keep it down.”
Jessie’s eyes widened as she rinsed the pizza tray at the sink. “You did? That’s so unlike you.”
“I know. And I was so awkward, he has to think I’m an idiot.”
“He does not,” Jessie chided. “But, what did he say?”
“He was very cool about it, apologized, turned the volume down.”
Jessie waited for a moment and then added, “I guess I don’t see the problem.” She turned the water off and wiped her hands on their giraffe-print kitchen towel.
Maelie pursed her lips together. “The problem is, I turn into a complete dolt every time I talk to him. He’s too gorgeous, he’s too talented. It’s not fair.”
Jessie gave her a side smile. “It sounds like the problem is you, not him.”
“Uggggggh,” she ground out and stomped out of the kitchen. “Why are you always so, so...” She struggled to find the word.
“Right?”
“No.”
“Helpful?”
Maelie rolled her eyes. “Are you going to show me your drawing or what?”
Jessie perked up and thankfully dropped the subject. She was very easily distracted, a fact Maelie had always appreciated.
Jessie led her into the bedroom that she had turned into a modified art studio. The art side of the room was very neatly organized and orderly, but the bedroom side looked like the crash site of a rebellious thirteen-year-old from the 1980s. It was astounding.
“Over here,” she excitedly held up an oil pastel drawing of Maelie, kneeling to help a young girl with her bow-hold.
“Oh my God, Jessie, it’s ...” Her heart skipped a couple of beats. It was gorgeous, alive with color, and so sweet she wanted to cry. “It’s just absolutely perfect!”
Jessie beamed. “You really think so? I thought it felt exceptionally good while I was doing it, and then, you know me, I always question everything.”
Maelie shook her head. “No, I mean it, it is perfect. Thank you!” She wrapped her arms around her friend and kissed the top of her head. “You’re the best, you know that?”
“I know,” Jessie answered and hugged her back. “I’m glad you like it. If it’s okay, I’ll get started on the next few. I think this is the style I’ll go with.”
“Yes, do that, you know I trust you.”
Jessie smiled and pulled out a fresh piece of paper. “I think I’ll get started on the ‘Parts of the Instrument’ piece,” she muttered, already zoning into the project.
Maelie gave her one last little squeeze and left her to her room—once Jessie started a new piece, there was no more talking.
Still smiling and back in her own room, Mae pulled out her laptop and started working on the format for the first few pages of her book. With the color scheme of Jessie’s work in mind, she had new ideas for the page headers, and she wanted to put the rhythms she’d used with Maya tonight down in stone.
She sang happily as she worked until she realized she was humming the song Sebastian Adams had interrupted her lessons with. Groaning, she dropped her head to her keyboard as her mind wandered back to his sinful eyes and what it might be like to unbutton his closely fitted shirt.
Swearing out loud, she pushed herself away from her desk and snapped her laptop shut because with him on her mind, nothing else was going to get done.
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Sebastian
“Good morning, little bro! Ready to run this morning?”
Sebastian stared at his brother. He hated everything at the moment, but what he really, really hated right now was his pre-workout-amped, Greek god of a brother who was eternally in a good fucking mood. Instead of answering, he held the door open farther and allowed his Mason into his apartment. He knew better than to try and turn him away.
“I see you’re in a good mood,” Mason commented as he passed inside. “Late night?”
He groaned. “What do I have to do to get it through your big dumb head that you are not welcome anywhere near my apartment before eleven?” He pointed to the clock. “That is a full five hours from now.”
Mason shrugged and started his stretching routine again. Sebastian wondered for a moment if he wasn’t just dreaming it.
“Seriously, Mace, you have no idea how hard it is for me to fall asleep. I don’t even know what to do with myself most nights without going out. What the actual fuck do people do without alcohol? Just exist? Am I supposed to watch late-night television and eat popcorn until I fuse with the couch?” He took a deep breath. Really, he wanted to know, he was at his wits’ end after another insomnia-filled night.
Mason straightened when he heard the break in his voice and studied him with concern. “Well, I suppose that’s one option,” he admitted. “But there are other things you can do. Read, write ...”
“If you say arithmetic, I’m going to punch you.”
Mason laughed. “I would never recommend math, but seriously, you need to find some new hobbies. Some, less dangerous hobbies.” His voice was a little softer. “I’m sorry you had a rough night.”
Seb simply dropped his head. Most days, his cravings were at the back of his head like a dull headache. But occasionally it would rear up like a fucking aneurism. Teaching had gone okay, but when he got home by 9:30 with the entire night stretching out in front of him, he thought he was going to lose his mind.
He sunk into one of the kitchen stools.
Mason sat down next to him, dropped his over-hyped sports-guy routine, and put his hands on the counter. “Do you have any idea what might have triggered it?”
“I just.” He sighed, feeling defeated. “I just don’t know what to do with all the time I have. When I was in the band, I always had places to be, gigs to get to.” He shook his head. “Now ... nothing.”
“Nothing can be nice,” Mason suggested.
“I’m sure it can be for some people, but for me it feels like ... drowning.”
Mason thought about it for a moment. “So what did you do, then?”
“Well, I paced a lot,” he answered, feeling lame. “Like, a lot. And then I tried television, but that didn’t work, so I started listening to music and, then, before I knew what was happening, I was sitting at the piano, writing a new tune.”
Mason’s eyes flew open. “Wait, you wrote a song?”
Sebastian nodded weakly and tried to explain how he had sat down at the keyboard and all his feelings had spilled out all over it. “Yeah,” he answered truthfully. “And I was up until three, so you can see why this early-morning visit is less than welcome.”
Mason slapped him hard on the back. “Well, I’m sorry I woke you up, but I have no doubt you’re going to go right back to bed. Or, if you’re so bored, you could go run with me.” His voice went up with hope like a child asking to go to the park.
Sebastian let out a laugh at the hopeful expression on his brother’s face. “No. Nope. Not a chance.”
Mason laughed and shook his head. “One of these days, you’re going to take me up on it.”
“Doubtful,” he answered easily. Over his dead fucking body. “I can see why Gabi hates you in the morning. How is she, anyway?”
Mason’s whole face changed when he said Gabi’s name. He was so gone over his redhead, he was surprised they weren’t married already. “She’s amazing,” he gushed. “Her business is doing so well. Did you know the girls were featured in Home Magazine?”
“No, I haven’t gotten my subscription renewed,” he quipped. He still couldn’t get over that both of his brothers, both raging lotharios in their time, were happily in love. Dom was married to the hottest jazz-singing teacher he had ever met, and Gabi was a talented interior designer. To say there was a little pressure to bring home another woman of their caliber, was an understatement.
“Better take care of that,” Mason shot back. “Gabi will never forgive you.”
“I’ll be sure to,” he told him. “I’m not at all surprised to hear that, though; she’s super talented.”
“That’s my girl,” Mason puffed, clearly proud of his woman. Mason was an accomplished businessman himself. He had started selling his furniture from their garage less than five years ago, and now it was a booming company with a huge workshop and a dozen employees. AdamsMade was as much a hit with the Chicago design world as Gabi.
After a few moments of silence, Mason pushed himself up from his stool. “All right, old man, I guess I should get out there and get some miles in. I’ll leave you be for now.”
“There is a God,” he breathed.
“Fuck you,” Mason shot back and started to stretch his calves. “I want to hear it when you’re done.” He switched feet.
“What?”
“The song you’re writing. I want to hear it when it’s finished.”
Sebastian paused and considered how likely it was that he would finish it. “All right, if you promise to get the fuck out of here.”
Mason laughed. “All right, all right, I’m gone.” And after a few more stretches he was out the door.
Sebastian sank into the couch in relief. As the silence returned to his apartment, he decided to just try and sleep there on the couch. He tilted to one side, grabbed one of the throw pillows Gabi had forced him to accept, and closed his eyes.
He sat right back up when the first image in his mind was the irritated flash in Maelie’s eyes from the night before. He blinked, wondering where the fuck that had come from. She wasn’t anywhere near his type. He liked them tall, leggy, and easy. Maelie was none of those things. She was pretty, sure, but too girl-next-door for his taste. Shaking it off, he laid back down and tried again.
“Fuck,” he muttered when all he could see was her tight irritated expression. His cock pulled at the thought of unwinding her, but he chalked it up to lack of sleep and turned over to make another attempt.
This time he succeeded.