Chapter 6

The past few days have been quite easy for me as Raze’s schedule is packed with live performances and interviews, they barely had time to work in the studio. Which means more time for me to focus on my music. Music that I would one day pitch to Raze.

Today, I opted to hang around the dance practice rooms that the trainees are using. Before any of the artists become full-fledged, they have to undergo a series of grueling training sessions. Some of these sessions are led by artists themselves; sometimes even members of Raze become special instructors, all for the sake of creating the next popstar.

The dance practice rooms in the company building vary in size. There are large ones dedicated to groups and smaller ones that individuals can use to practice and record their performances.

There are even smaller ones which few people know about. Since the building had a major renovation when I first started here, bigger and newer practice rooms have been installed, and some of the older, smaller ones have been forgotten. Some are even used as storage rooms for props and costumes.

And there’s this particularly small one at the basement practice area that the trainees rarely use for two reasons. One, because there has been a lot of creepy stories in the basement practice rooms and two because it's tiny. I head down there hoping that it was unoccupied. I need a place where I could be alone and let my creative juices fall out.

Thankfully it was empty. Score.

I quickly got to work. I set up my laptop, connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker system, blasting my creativity playlist across the room. In seconds flat, my notes and sheet music litter the floor surrounding me as I sit on the dance floor cross-legged.

Chewing the tip of my pen, lost in thought, my eyelids automatically close at the sound of a gentle piano track. Stevie Wonder’s Isn’t She Lovely"" bounces off the walls of the practice room. I can't help but sing out.

Isn't she lovely

Isn't she wonderful

Isn't she precious

Less than one minute old

The song is one of the first ones I learned to play on the piano. My dad used to sing it to me at night and around the house whenever he was in the singing mood. It was why I love the song so much. It reminds me of my dad.

I never thought through love we'd be

Making one as lovely as she

But isn't she lovely made from love…

With my eyes still closed, I feel the song deep in my heart. The memory of my dad’s smiling face and his voice burned my eyes with unshed tears. I miss him a lot. He was the one who really supported me in my career to make music. 

The final notes of the instrumental fade out and I'm jolted by the sound of somebody loudly clapping.

“Wow.”  Says a voice I would recognize anywhere. I look to the doorway to see Ethan standing there, wide-eyed, impressed with what he saw. 

Of all the people who could have heard me, of course, it had to be the person I was avoiding. “E-Ethan, what are you doing here?” I stutter as I look up to him, immediately hitting the mute button on my laptop. He was dressed in gym clothes; gray sweatpants with a yellow hoodie on. I always used to wonder who the hell would look good in yellow, and Ethan Reed just answered my question. He looks so hot in the color; it should be illegal.

Ethan shrugs his shoulders as he walked confidently into the room. He walks like he owns the earth and we are merely guests stepping on his property. 

Involuntarily, my body moves closer to the wall, trying to create as much distance between him and me in this cramped practice room

“To practice,” he answers dropping his gym bag down on the floor, starting to stretch. “What are you doing here?” He asked in return, quizzical brow raised.

I guess it was a valid question. There can’t be a reason for a music producer to hang around the dance practice rooms. “I was working,” I answer dumbly. I didn’t know what excuse to give, except for the truth.

Ethan’s eyebrow doesn’t lower, he's obviously asking what I meant. I added, “This room has good acoustics.” Indicating the natural reverb caused by the walls of the small closed room.

He walks closer and squats in front of me just outside the little circle of papers surrounding me. “Can I hear?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead, he plucks a sheet off the floor and skims through it, nodding once... twice. “It’s good.” 

Okay, this is weird. And awkward. But mostly weird.  This ethereal creature is complimenting my work; is this real? “Can I hear it? Do you have it on your laptop?” he asks.

Surprised by the sudden request and the pressure of playing something half-assed done, I blush and blurt out, “It’s a-- I don’t-- I don’t. It’s not yet done! Don’t you have to be somewhere?” I ask, changing the topic quickly.

He scrunches his eyebrows together, a slight smirk playing on his lips in mild confusion. He probably thinks I’m stupid. I think to myself, as he answers. “I was looking for an empty studio to practice, the trainees are using the big ones so I ended up here.” He gestures around the room as if to emphasize his point.

“But this one’s occupied too,” I complain. I need him out of the room before I can focus on working again. Ethan being here is distraction enough. If he drives me out of this room too, I won’t be able to finish anything.

“You’re not dancing...” he says then smirks, his eyes lifting from the page he was holding to meet mine. “and you don’t mind… right?”

Why would he think I don't mind? I'm working, and I need the space too. “What if I do?”

Ethan’s smile wavers a little with my response before shrugging “Then I’ll skip practice altogether and hang around here with you. But you don’t mind, right?” he added, his eyes looking hopeful. He really is like a puppy.

To be honest he was becoming kind of annoying. No matter how attractive he is or how much I have the hots for him, he’s still distracting me from doing what you were supposed to be doing and that’s finishing my damn song.

“I kind of do,” I tell him honestly. I won’t budge on this one. I also have deadlines to make and between the two of us, I'm the one getting fired if I don’t make it. “How will you practice when I’m using the speakers? I’m not ready to give them up yet.” I explain to him, feeling a little guilty that I’m also hindering him from practice. 

I wish he’d just drop it and leave so I could regain some of my sanity. Being in close proximity to him is causing my brain to short circuit.

But Ethan is undeterred. He shrugs and stands up, “Then play your music, I don’t mind.” he says casually and proceeds to face the mirror his back turned to me. He stretches upward slowly, and yanks off the yellow hoodie he was wearing.

I would be lying if I said, all is well because nothing is going well. His back muscles contract, giving me a full view of his shape. When the hoodie reaches above his head, his shirt got caught on it, giving me a glimpse of his sexy back.

I let out a shaky breath. This is a terrible idea. I know it is. But I can't resist the opportunity to see Ethan dance up close. 

In the back of my mind, I wonder how Ethan is okay with any of this. Doesn’t he find it weird? We aren't even close. Maybe he has the hots for me too. I think to myself but immediately shake myself awake from such delusions. Shut up brain. False hopes won’t get me anywhere. It's better to focus on what is in my control, like my career for example.

I say not another word and just unmuted my laptop. When a beat from one of my Tuesday sets starts to play, I realize that my playlist was set to random. 

Ethan listens for a little bit before nodding his head in approval. Slowly, his head bobs to the beat, eyes closed feeling the music as he rolls up the hoodie in his hands. He throws it on the floor by the mirror, then walked to the center of the room. Now only clad in a thin loose white shirt.

I try my hardest to drag my eyes away from him as he lightly bounced his body to the slow build-up of the music. It's amazing how he controls his body, and how he could mesmerize someone by just grooving to a random song. I focus my eyes on my laptop screen showing that the song is a variation of an old original beat of mine.

Ethan’s sudden movement abruptly brings my attention back to him. From behind, I can clearly see the deep cuts of his back muscles and those on his triceps. His slim waist is accentuated by the thin material of his shirt making it more sinful to look at him. 

Ethan’s dancing is graceful and powerful at the same time. I am completely mesmerized by how he moves so beautifully to music that he’s never heard before. He really is a genius. Impressive is such a weak word to describe how his dancing has made an impression on me. He is art in itself. 

My eyes trail over his body; from the way he angles his body to the slight bend in his fingers it's so precise and fluid. The different moves seem to blend into each other. Catching his every move, his every breath, every step. I lift my eyes to look at his face in the mirror and a shiver jolts my body awake when my eyes meet his. 

Has he been watching me this whole time? I shake the thought away. It was dangerous to think this way.  

The music shifts to the next movement slowing down to a heavy beat and sensual vocals. His eyes are still fixed on mine as he takes his lower lip between his teeth. It was so fucking hot; I didn’t realize that I had mirrored the action. My lower lip is now red and swollen from the constant biting. And God, if that didn’t make you want a change of underwear.

I rake my eyes all over his body, noting how each movement seems more sexual. His hips accentuated; his thrusts now a bit harder than earlier. I feel each hard thrust of his hips affect me down to my core. 

The next move catches me off guard as he dives onto the floor grinding down on it as he went back up. 

Damn. I felt that. 

A choked gasp escapes from my lips at that dance move.  This could all be in my imagination but I suddenly realized that it feels like Ethan is doing a private show for me. 

Fuck.

The dampness of my panties brings me back to reality. Fucking hell. This cannot be happening. Ethan has his eyes closed now as the song slowly built up before the beat drops his body also followed the music. The heavier the beat becomes, the stronger he hits each move. And the softer and more sensual the melody becomes; he moves as if he were sex incarnate. 

This cannot happen. He’s Ethan fucking Reed. But still, I can't stop watching him. I grew more and more aroused.

Suddenly a woman’s high-pitched moan cuts through the music. Ethan’s eyes snap  open finding my wide-eyed ones in the mirror. He doesn't stop the slow rolls he made with his body but his eyes are questioning... curious. 

It was my moans that I mixed with the original track. A demo I sampled to use for my Friday night sets at the club. My eyes blew wide as Ethan held mine in the mirror. His movements pause but his eyes flutter closed reveling in the music even more. 

“Fucking hell” I breathed out. His eyes open suddenly. He turns to me,  a smirk playing on his lips. Did he hear that?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This can’t be happening!

I scramble to retrieve the papers on the floor as best as I can and slammed my laptop shut, immediately cutting off my moans and the music. From my periphery I see Ethan panting hard and staring at me; confusion painting his features. 

But I don’t spare him a glance as I shove as much of my notes back into my backpack, grabbing my laptop and bolting out the door. Several small pieces of paper from my notes fall to the floor but I don't bother to pick them up. I race to the doors before Ethan has the chance to call out my name.