Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“Just felt like drumming today. It helps me work through things,” I replied as we passed each other so that I could take her place in front of the fridge, our arms brushing. My heart hammered in response.
“Work through things?” Delilah asked, nearly looking concerned as she leaned against the kitchen island.
I filled up my cup with cold water before turning to face her. I didn’t mean to direct the conversation in that direction.
“Isn’t music therapy for you too?” I replied, flipping the question back to her.
Delilah nodded after a moment.
“Of course. I like to write about what’s going on in my head,” she told me before tilting her head at me. “How does drumming help you?”
Our eyes locked, and the warm comfort of her gaze started to melt away my defenses. Some people used their curiosity for selfish, wrong reasons, but I couldn’t see her as that type of person.
“No better way to get your frustration out than beating on the drums,” I pointed out with a soft laugh.
Delilah cracked a small smile.
“I can’t argue with that,” she said before her face softened. “What’s frustrating you? If you don’t mind me asking.”
Usually, I’d keep redirecting the conversation if people pried too close to my past, but I didn’t feel threatened by her and her curiosity.
“My mom called me earlier today,” I said.
Delilah’s eyebrows shifted upward slightly.
“You don’t have a good relationship with her,” she stated her guess.
I shook my head.
“With either of my folks. Everyone has family problems, right?” I replied, finding myself automatically trying to joke to lighten the mood.
Delilah smirked ever so slightly.
“Some more than others,” she said, letting silence fall upon us.
I had a feeling she was giving the floor to me, letting me exit the conversation or continue it. What the hell.
“We just never got along. The moment I turned eighteen, I bolted to get away from them,” I told her, waiting for the sympathy people liked to dump on me if they ever found out about my past.
Delilah gave me a gentle smile instead.
“Yeah, parents can be the worst. They’re supposed to want the best for you, but some of them only think about themselves,” she said.
My eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Your folks were like that too? Mine saw me as an ATM the moment I scrounged up a job at fifteen,” I told her. “The moment I said no… they definitely showed me how upset they were.”
Delilah’s eyes narrowed.
“They hurt you?” she asked.
I glanced away from her and shrugged.
“Threw things. Said terrible shit. That kind of stuff,” I replied, trying not to think too hard about it. It had scarred me when I was young, but I had been working through all of that through music. So far, it was working alright.
“That’s terrible,” she said as she shook her head. “I’m glad you were able to get away.”
I nodded in a grateful manner.
“What about you?” I asked.
Delilah let out a slow sigh.
“Mine just didn’t believe I could amount to anything extraordinary,” she replied. “They didn’t believe in me. They wanted to hold me back, to keep me trapped here with them.”
They sounded selfish. A woman like her shouldn’t ever be contained. She deserved to spread her wings and fly wherever she wanted. However high she wanted.
“Well, here’s to both of us getting away from that bullshit,” I said with a wry grin, clinking my plastic cup against hers. That was so easy to admit to her. I didn’t tell many people about my parents because that was a lot to dredge up, but she didn’t pity me. She empathized, and that was easier for me to swallow.
“You’ve done a really good job on the drums for this song. I can’t believe we’re already almost done,” Delilah said once she placed her cup down.
I nodded. We had all been putting in a lot of work lately, working late nights and through meals to perfect instrument parts and implement smooth transitions. Honestly, I couldn’t remember having so much fun recording music before. Delilah brought a new, playful energy to the studio that we all fed off of.
“Thank you. I can’t wait to hear you in the booth,” I told her before stepping closer to her. “I’ll admit… I was wary about bringing in another vocalist, but I’m glad you’re here.”
Delilah smiled at me and put her drink down.
“I’m glad I changed your mind,” she said.
The space between us seemed to turn magnetic, a pulling sensation gripping me. I took another step forward, and she let me come to her.
“You did more than that,” I replied as I admired her figure, her lips, her eyes. I had been wanting a moment alone with her, even if I knew it wasn’t the best idea if I wanted to behave. I shouldn’t want the guest vocalist, but Delilah was sexy, funny, and talented in a way no other woman in town was like. I was a goner from the start.