Chapter Nineteen 

The base from the speakers shakes the pen resting on the table. Monty continues to turn up the music, a wide grin gripping to his cheerful face. At the hook of the pop song plays, Monty throws his hands in the air and jumps around. After many days of hard work celebration is in order. If I had enough energy, I'd do the same. Writer's block is horrible to deal with, so I'm glad we've cracked it together.

While I had spent a majority of the time tweaking the lyrics, I loved the music suggestions Monty offered. I also adore the way Monty is able to finish the track to give it a professional feel – whatever that means.

Monty's support through the changes has been fabulous, a much-needed push of energy to get things done.

With Kol moving in, it's been an adjustment. I'd thought a man with no past would simply mean he'd have a box or two of belongings. I've never been so wrong in my life. It felt nice to be wrong, actually. Within those boxes were pieces of Kol wrapped in newspaper and bubble wrap.

As he slowly arrived with boxes filled with trinkets, it felt more like a roommate than a homeless kitten rescued from the sidewalk.

I'm not complaining. A full-time cook, cleaner, and cuddler is better than a vacation to a beautiful sunny beach. It means I can work on my music without being distracted . . . I'd always be distracted by Kol's half naked body in the morning, but you get it. However, all changes come with some sort of complication to deal with.

Somehow with the music playing, I feel my phone buzz in the back pocket of my jeans. I slide out my phone and find a message from Kol on the dim screen.

'How does meatball subs for dinner sound?' – Kol.

"Lola?" Monty calls out.

I slide my phone back into my pocket as I turn my attention back to Monty. He turns the music down so that it's a faded noise in the background.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"I think the song is perfect. Are you ready to show it to Svana?" he asks.

"They're great," I agree. "I think it's time to show her." Monty grabs his phone out of his pocket to message Svana. While he's distracted, I use this time to respond to Kol's message.

By the time I grab out my phone, I receive an incoming call from Kol just as the studio door springs open. Svana saunters in with her red hair flying behind her shoulders. I feel horrible, but I chuck my ringing phone in my bag. I don't want Svana or Monty to feel like I'm not taking this seriously. I'm completely dedicated to this and I want it to be reflected through my attitude and hard work.

"Hi Svana," I great.

Svana gives me a half hug as she walks into the room. Her sweet perfume is toxic and makes me cough. I brush it off as a tickle in my throat.

Monty plays the music and talks to Svana about it. I stand back and listen to them discuss it. Svana questions the beat in a couple of places, to which, Monty supports his reasoning for the addition and this makes her happy. If you can back your decision with a strong argument, it shows confidence and somewhat creativity.

"Okay, it's perfect," she agrees. "I will talk to the marketing team to get this single running."

"Really?" I gasp.

Sometimes, it's hard to get a grip of what's happening. Jason always left me feeling ungrateful and overworked. He'd always give me unrealistic expectations, a false sense of hope, and dangle my ability to make a career in front of my face without fault. Jason is also an asshole and I shouldn't waste my thoughts on him.

"Yes." She nods her head. "I have a meeting in five, but I'll be in touch soon." Svana turns on her sleek black heels and retreats from the room. The fabric of her tight black dress crinkles from the movement.

"What happens next?" I ask.

"We work on the next song," replies Monty.

"Oh, right now?" I thought we'd at least get to go home and sleep for the night. We've been pulling a lot of late nights trying to get things done. I'm ready to crash in bed and sleep for a week.

"Is there somewhere you need to be?" The look on Monty's face leaves my stomach churning. It's a mix between disappointments and unamused.

"I have nowhere else to be." I shake my head. "I just thought . . ." I leave the sentence mid-air because I don't want to dig the hole any deeper.

Monty grabs his computer and takes a seat at the desk. He loads the previous clips onto the screen while getting comfortable in his cushioned seat. I grab the notes from my bag and return to the desk. While the computer is loading, I take this time to reply to Kol's message.

'Working late, sorry! Meatball subs sound perfect.' – Lola.

Sometimes I love and hate how Kol worries about me. I think it's very sweet he's concerned about my safety, however, it can be overbearing. There's a part of me that understands where he's coming from. Walking the dark streets at night is dangerous, but I'm okay with it, I understand the risks.

He's afraid I'll get attacked in the dead of night. I tried to tell him I was a secret ninja . . . be he insisted I'd message him or have Kol escort me to and from the record label. Yeah, I didn't want either of those options. I liked my sense of freedom to roam and do what I please. It's a compromise I'm working on.

"So, where do we start?" I force a smile. There are many places I'd like to be; Kol's arms are one of them. Snuggled up in bed or on the couch watching a movie would be lovely. The stress of turning out music is even more stressful because I'm afraid if I get it wrong, they'll kick me out and I'll never get this opportunity again.

When I arrive at the apartment, I notice the missed calls and texts from Kol on my screen. I'd been in a rush to get home, I'd forgotten to check my phone or let him know. I don't know how I keep doing this. Kol will automatically think I'm lying in a ditch with my gut cut out.

Kol is sitting on the couch watching television. The light from the television flickers across the room like flames licking the air.

"You're back," he says.

"Sorry." I yawn. "Monty has a flow of ideas with the track and . . ."

"Dinner is in the fridge." Kol turns away to give me the cold shoulder. I want to groan and tell him about how stressed I feel, but I lock those feelings inside of me. Kol wouldn't understand the pressure I'm under right now.

Dropping my belongings on the ground, I walk into the kitchen and find a container of freshly cooked meatballs. I put them into a sub and plop on the couch next to Kol.

"This tastes really good," I compliment.

"Thanks," he replies.

"Are you going to give me the Kol shoulder all night?" I ask. He doesn't laugh at my ice breaker joke, which leaves the tension so much thicker.

Kol runs a hand over his face. I can see the annoyance on his face. His teeth grind together as he tries to keep in the frustration. But when his lips part, I know Kol's going to explode. Perhaps I'd pushed him to the edge now?

"I'm sorry I didn't answer your messages," I apologise.

"I was worried," he explains.

"I know you worry." This is the worse conversation to be having while eating. I get off the couch and walk to the kitchen. I stand beside the bench and finish off my sub. One of the worst things about living with someone is that you can't escape them. You can't run from your problems . . . you actually have to deal with them.

"Kol," I call out. "I'm going to bed." He doesn't response, so I head to my bedroom to change.

My pyjamas are laid out on the bed, neatly folded and carefully placed on the end of the bed. I strip out of my jeans and shirt and redress in my blue cotton pyjamas. Before slipping under the comfortable covers, I brush my teeth and flick my hair into a low-slung ponytail.

When I walk back into the bedroom, Kol is lying in bed with the blanket half wrapped around his muscular torso.

"Are you still annoyed with me?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Kol," I groan. "Can't you be happy?'

Flopping into bed, I tug the covers over my body and snuggle under the blanket. Kol doesn't move, so I shift closer to rest my head against his warm chest. I hope this improves the mood, but I doubt it.

"I'm not in the mood." Kol rolls away and I'm left with a flat bed.

"Please?"

Kol rolls over and wraps his arm around my waist. There's still a space between our bodies and it feels awkward. I pay Kol to cuddle me, not to question my every movement. I understand where he's coming from, but it's frustrating.

"Good night, Kol," I whisper.

"Night, Lola."

With the awkward tension floating through the air, I close my eyes and try to sleep. Things will either be worse or better tomorrow, I just know that it'll be somewhat better with sleep.

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Tension in Kola, will their ship break? :o