𝗕𝗘𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗦 𝟭𝟴+ | 𝗦𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗲

2. ANOTHER LIFE

"You can sit wherever you want," she said, snapping him back to reality as she approached him. "There's not much left to do with your guitar, but I still have to restring it," she added, pointing to the door behind her.

"Do you mind if I watch while you finish it?"

She handed him the glass with swirling ice cubes. "S-sure," she replied, a soft wrinkle between her brows, gaze still not meeting his.

Artists could be weird, eccentric even. He, for example, needed to lock himself in a room and not be bothered while composing—got ultra-frustrated when interrupted. But what the fuck was that? She could have said no if it unsettled her in any way.

Without another word, she turned towards the double black door and slid it open, letting metal music swamp the space surrounding them.

"You can use that stool." She motioned to her right.

While she strode around the table placed in the middle of the room and crouched down to get something from one of the drawers of a storage cabinet, Søren scanned the place. Pencils, sandpaper, pliers, screwdrivers, and a lot of other tools he couldn't name were scattered everywhere. There was an acoustic guitar and a bass hanging on the cork paneled wall, both in different stages of their restoration.

His eyes then traveled back to Jäger. Crossing his arms and leaning on the counter behind him, he tilted his head. She looked feminine even with her careless outfit, but she had a badass look at the same time. Something about her expression as she loosened the strings told him she was a woman who wouldn't put up with anyone's bullshit.

He was sure he hadn't met her before—no way he would have forgotten such a beautiful creature—but she reminded him of someone. Though he couldn't put his finger on who.

A few strands of her chocolate, wavy hair fell from her messy bun as she brought all the strings through the tailpiece and up over the saddle. Pale skin and delicate hands with a couple of silver rings and small tattoos adorning them.

Suddenly, the music changed, pulling him from his thoughts as he recognized the notes playing through the speakers. It was one of their old songs. He looked at her, arching a brow. "That's one of my favorites."

Jäger was about to say something, but the string she was stretching broke, snapping, and hitting her forearm. "Sheiβe!" she muttered.

"Thought you made a living out of this," Søren quipped, amused by her clumsiness.

"Thought you made a living from what comes out of your mouth," she retorted with her beautiful German accent.

Surprised by her witty remark, he let out a chuckle. "So, you knew who I was when you opened the door."

"Obviously..." she mumbled.

He didn't know whether she was nervous or just an asshat, but whatever it was, the sarcasm in her tone was thick.

"You could have said something instead of acting so... weird."

"I'm still trying to process the fact that you're here," she began, trailing off as she changed the A string for a new one.

"What do you mean?" he asked, playing dumb.

"I can't believe you're actually standing in my studio." She glanced up at him for a second. "Why are you even interested in what I do?"

"You're talented. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you're... You." She paused while threading the D string through its tuning peg. "It's not like famous people contact me every day, you know?" She wouldn't look at him, a clear sign for him that she was feeling timid or uneasy, or both. Although her quirked brow and the mordacity in her words told him there was a feisty woman under that reserved attitude. He liked it.