Page 31 of Covet (The Red #3)

Chapter Thirty-One

Noah

Listen to I was Made for Lovin’ You

by Yungblud

“ F eeling better after getting some sleep?” I asked Daisy, who was cuddled up on the couch, watching some romance movie.

“Much.” She wrinkled her nose. “Still upset I wasn’t there for your big night. But I’m so happy you both killed it. I can’t believe JJ is rushing the album out!”

I sat close and she stretched her legs on my lap. She looked cute with her hair in neat braids, face scrubbed of makeup, and my t-shirt on.

Unfortunately, the image of Elle dressed in my old Metallica shirt hit me hard.

The soft cotton had emphasized the sweet curve of her breasts, and long length of her naked legs.

I’d woken up hard as a rock, head spinning from the leftover alcohol and the way we’d held each other all night long in our sleep.

The intimacy was the closest I’d ever been to Elle seeing me as more than a friend, but the guilt was slowly tearing me apart. Daisy didn’t deserve this.

I re-focused on her words. “Yeah, I’ll be living at the studio this week trying to finish. Then we’ll see what happens.”

Daisy’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “The song’s going to be huge, I just know it. What did JJ say he’d do if it’s successful?”

I shifted in discomfort. “Well, it’s really Elle’s thing. I’ll get producer credit, of course, but JJ will probably sign her. Either as a solo artist, or with a band. My main gig is still being a DJ even if I stepped into a bigger role.”

“Yeah, but Noah, you’re great at producing! If the songs hit, everyone’s going to want to hire you. You can stop booking gigs that take you away all nights and get a normal schedule.”

I tugged on her braid. “Coming from graduating nurse who works double shifts?”

She grinned. “It’s different. I’ll be able to work my way up once I have my master’s degree. Hopefully, I’ll have more normal hours.”

I cocked my head. “Doubt it.”

“Well, I mean it’ll be more regular. I may get night shift for a little while, but with seniority you get access to better schedules. The ER gives me more opportunity.”

“The Pit, huh?”

Daisy laughed. “Yep, that’s me! All the drama but no Noah Wyle.”

“Now you’re trying to make me jealous.”

The laughter died and her tone turned serious. “I mean it, Noah. If you become a producer, it’ll be more opportunities and money. We can finally move in together and make a life. Between Elle, JJ, and Adam, you’ll get plenty of clients.”

I hesitated, trying to wrestle my rapidly spinning thoughts.

Daisy was right. I could step away from being a DJ and have a new career.

I could co-write with musicians and work with them to get their vision out.

Elle and I were unique—we’d only gotten together because of JJ seeing what happened with Unison and Adam’s referral. It’d be different with new artists.

Did I want to do it? I pictured Elle moving on to a big music career, and me taking on new clients.

We’d both get the distance we desperately needed.

This time and connection between us would be forced to fade, and we could both focus on the people we were already with.

Coop and Daisy were our real choices. Right?

I tried to tell myself this was the last week we’d be forced to be alone together.

When I woke up in the hotel room, I’d held Elle like she belonged to me.

Her initial response had been immediate, and it gave me a whole new fantasy about what our life could be like together.

Friendship and sex. Music and muse. A soul bond I’d never experienced before.

But we’d hurt so many people who didn’t deserve it.

Also, could a relationship built on deceit ever last?

I knew the moment Elle decided to pull back from me.

The way she jumped away, refusing to look in my eyes, and rushed to go home.

I understood and allowed her the space because I felt just as rotten, imagining Daisy’s reaction if she knew how I’d held Elle.

If we did take the risk, would guilt destroy us from the beginning? Would it leak into our music, forever tainted because of what we’d done?

“Noah? You okay?”

I forced a smile. I couldn’t deal with it now. I’d focus on getting the last song done and recorded, then give us the space we needed. “Yeah. I better get to the studio. Need anything?”

“Chinese? Can you bring it back tonight?”

“Sure. General Tsao’s with brown rice and an egg roll?”

“Perfect. Tell Elle I said hello. Me and Gabby are trying to set up a girl’s night. We’re overdue.”

“Sounds good.”

I left and headed to the studio. JJ had said our performance was what he needed to rush the album since our song had legs. A few people had shot videos and shared on socials. Adam posted it on the Unison page, linking back to Elle’s original song, and our name was getting blasted to the masses.

It was weird how things worked. Now, it was almost all about contacts and who you knew rather than talent.

Oh, you needed a bucket of skill, but I knew there were plenty of starving artists in New York that simply weren’t in the magic circle.

It made me sad, but I also knew how privileged I was.

Luck was a big factor in getting discovered.

For some reason, everything had lined up for me and Elle, and we had to ride the wave while we owned it.

I walked into the studio where Elle, Dusty, and Aaron were already there, chatting. We said our hellos and talked shop. “We booked for a few hours so let’s record what’s solid and then you two can hammer out the rest of the lyrics. Just let me know if you want us to hang around.”

Elle nodded. I noticed her aura was a bit distant. She was polite but her gaze was guarded. I didn’t blame her, but my heart squeezed in pain. I hated any type of barrier between us.

We spent most of the time smoothing out rough edges, editing, and having Elle sing with the changes we incorporated. Finally, when it was tight and we were happy, Dusty and Aaron took off and left us alone.

The air simmered with unspoken tension. I kept my tone mild. “You ready to work on the last song?”

She nodded. I gave her a searching look but she was fiddling with the notebook she brought with her. Both of us liked to write things out in longhand before transferring to the computer. “I was thinking about how JJ wants another fast song with pop tempo. But I can’t seem to get my head around it.”

I blew out a breath and took a seat at my keyboard, opening my own notebook. “Yeah, me either. I know why he wants it. Easier to package, especially when Call it Fire is the first release. And I know the first track, Feel Me , is kind of slow but it’s not a true?—”

“Ballad.”

I almost grit my teeth in agony. We were so in sync. Could it possibly be like this with anyone else but Elle? “Yeah. Ballad. The big rock ballad I’ve been playing with forever is still haunting me. Kind of retro, I know. Songs shouldn’t be like ten minutes anymore.”

“Unless you’re Taylor.”

I grinned. “Not even gonna try to compete. But I kept playing this melody and I’m a bit obsessed. Problem is it won’t fit in with anything JJ wants.”

“Play it.”

I did. The stripped-down piano overture set the tone, then melded with some low bass and ramped up until it was almost painful. I combined a bunch of sounds that almost assaulted the ears, which shouldn’t work in theory. But with the right voice…

“It’s beautiful,” Elle said. “I love the beginning. How about this?” She cut in and her voice was low and sweet, almost hesitant. My fingers flew across the keyboard as I matched each inflection and caught a fleeting sense of perfection. When I chased it, instead of following my lead, she stopped.

“What? That was fire.”

She shook her head with a frown. “No, it’s not right. I don’t know how to match that intense music.”

I leaned back and regarded her. Elle wore skinny jeans that clung to her ass and hips, an oversize red sweater, and red boots.

Her hair was loose, spilling over her shoulders in a dark waterfall of silk.

The scent of pumpkin spice floated to my nostrils.

I wondered if it was a special body lotion or perfume. “Yes, you do.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You have to go in hard. All in. You have the power but you can’t hold back.”

Her lips tightened. I tried not to stare, longing to cross the room and soften her expression with my mouth over hers. “I’m not holding back. The lyrics don’t match, it’s confusing.”

I looked at the words we agreed on and written together over the past weeks.

“It does, Elle. You need to go from wanting to owning in the song. You get him at the end, and you get to choose if you want to keep him. It’s supposed to be angsty.

Relatable to all of us who chase love and then don’t know what to do with it. ”

“Well, maybe this song is fucked and not meant to be sung.”

I jerked. Her words hit home. What was happening here?

It had been the most difficult song for us to work on so we kept dipping out to work on others.

Was there a reason we kept struggling with this particular one?

“Okay. What do you want to change? Do you not like the theme of the song? Do you want to switch the focus to the male perspective and focus on grit and sex?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want?”

She whipped her head around with pure irritation, then prowled back and forth.

The space in the studio squeezed around us.

It was already an intimate experience being together, but with the clutter of sound machines, mics, piano, and a giant see-through window, it gave a strange mixture of claustrophobia and voyeurism.

“I don’t know! Not this. It’s too rough. Try it smoother.”

I disagreed but did what she asked. I could tell immediately the change didn’t work. Frustration practically poured from her body. “That’s not good either.”

“Elle, we can take a breath, if you want. Come back to this tomorrow. Maybe you need some time for it to cook.”

“This song has been cooking for too long already,” she said bitterly.

My jaw almost dropped. Elle was never like this with me.

Not that I didn’t think she had a temper, but this was different from the clean anger she usually spouted when something pissed her off.

No, this was personal and messy. There was a black cloud hovering around us, and I had a bad feeling it’d break into a storm.

“I’ll do whatever you want.”

I thought my words were calming but she exploded in front of me. “Typical. Instead of pushing for what you want, you just hide behind your I’m-a-nice-guy attitude. I’ve seen you do this before and it’s getting old.”

My eyes widened. “Do what?”

“This!” Her hand waved back and forth. “No confrontations needed. No messiness. Just do what the group wants, or what Daisy wants, or whoever is in charge at the time. Did you ever think that maybe it’s a good thing to step up even if things won’t be perfect?”

“I have no idea where this is all coming from,” I said. “I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t need your help!” she yelled. “I need you to tell me what you want!”

My heart stopped. The silence crashed around us but seethed with undercurrents of raw emotion.

And then I knew what was finally happening.

Elle also realized we’d be going in different directions once this song was done.

It was the perfect opportunity to pull back from this unspoken thing between us and be safe.

Go back to Daisy and Coop and keep it filed in our memory, tagged what could have been.

Unless we decided not to.

“What are you saying?” I whispered.

She froze. I waited to see what would happen next, but the energy shifted. Elle stomped away, cursing viciously, and grabbed her notebook. “Fuck it. Forget it all. You want power? You got it.”

“Elle—”

“Play the music.” I dragged in a deep breath.

With shaky hands, I tried to compose myself and get my head back into artistic vibe.

I began the piano intro and her voice supported it, a whisper of emotion that teased the listener to wonder if she was chasing the love of her life or playing games with a man she wanted back.

I morphed into the heavier bass and the sound began to build. Then I waited for Elle to crash and storm out of the studio, pissed at things we couldn’t say aloud. I prepared for the aftermath and how I’d be patient. How I’d show up tomorrow and everything would once again be calm.

Instead, her voice exploded in a crescendo of intensity.

Like the music, the sound grew larger and larger, until my head was ringing and my heart was pounding and all I could do was follow her lead.

I’d never heard Elle really let loose, but this was power in a feminine, raging fuck-you vibe rivaling Olivia Rodrigo with the rich tones of Celine Dion.

I stumbled over the next notes and Elle stopped. Refused to look at me. “Better?” she flung out.

I tried to speak but couldn’t. “Yes. I think we need to change the end, though. Cycle back and finish with only the piano. Can you transition that fast?”

“I think the third stanza needs to be flipped with the second.”

We tried it out and Elle was right. Her instinct for not only song writing but music blew my mind. Add her powerhouse voice to the trio and I believed she’d be even bigger than Adam.

Bigger than all of us.

“Let’s go again,” she said.

We did. After more changes, we did a final pass until it was tight. “Can you do one last run through? Last time.”

Elle nodded. I dragged in a breath. Ignored my rumbling stomach and brain fog and sore fingers and throbbing dick. I played.

Her voice teased, prodding into all my secret places and invited me to come out to play.

Invited me to love her. Once I did, she blasted my defenses away with a soaring power, stretching her vocals till literal tears burned my eyes.

But I couldn’t stop, I had to chase her fast enough, big enough, and then she broke me into pieces before quietly putting me back together.

Elle stretched out the last verse, all teasing and lightness, but things had already changed.

I knew then I’d never be the same. From that song. From her presence. From her gift.

The silence shattered. I stared at the keyboard, empty and aching. I had no idea how I was supposed to pretend to be her friend, give her a high-five, and walk back home to Daisy and eat Chinese.

My life was ruined.

“Noah?”

I couldn’t speak. My whole body trembled with a burning need to go to her, but I fought to my last breath. My voice came out ragged. “Yeah?”

“What am I to you?”