Author's Note:
I can't even begin to apologize for the wait I've put you guys through! These last few months have been absolute hell. I am going to be trying to write much more though. I've put One Of The Boys on hold for a while, but I will be working on Tone Deaf. Here's the latest installment! Enjoy!
xoxo,
Q.
Devon:
Seven more songs. This has got to be some kind of record.
I can’t remember ever pumping out songs this fast, not even when I was in high school and my emotions were multiplying almost as fast as my hormones.
Kyle and I have a new thing of nodding shortly at each other if we pass in the hall. No words exchanged unless it’s just a quick acknowledgment of each other’s name. It’s not much, but compared to how I saw him before, it’s not that bad.
I don’t know.
It’s harder to hate him now that I see that he’s…human, I guess.
I suppose I never thought about it like that.
It kind of sucks, actually. I’m much rather be immature about it and hate him regardless, but I just can’t anymore.
Don’t get me wrong; I still can’t stand the guy.
But I also have to acknowledge that he just wants the same thing I do—success.
Ugh, all this thinking about Kyle is exhausting.
Wait, that came out wrong.
Since the last few songs came out so easily, Mike told me to take a break and go out and “live” or whatever, so that the music doesn’t start to sound repetitive and such. So I’ve been hanging out with Hazel a lot, and that means there’s lots of new rumors circling around that we’re dating or whatever, which is, of course, beyond ridiculous.
I’m even laughing a little to myself when I’m watching the trashy TV channel I’m somehow always featured on.
“Neither Hazel nor Devon has confirmed nor denied their relationship, so I guess we’re all stuck wondering!” the designated fake blond woman they’ve hired as their reporter says with an obnoxiously fake laugh. “So what do you guys think of this unlikely pairing? Do you think they’re cute or is Hazel a bad influence on the southern sweetheart?”
I let out a low snort.
If anything, I’m the bad influence.
I mean, I get that Hazel’s image is supposed to go along with her music, but I think it’d be kind of cool to have a dance-pop star who isn’t a huge party girl. It’d be a refreshing change.
Not that J-Pow would ever go for it, though. J-Pow is all about the numbers. Number of sales. Number on the charts. Statistics. Math. After a few years in the business, I know that it’s a lot more than just playing songs. A lot goes into this industry in order to be successful, but it still totally bums me out to think about all the logistics. It ruins the beauty, the magic, as cliché as that might sound.
I turn off the TV. There’s only so much of that channel you can watch before you start losing brain cells.
I probably should go home.
I mean, all I’m doing is sitting on the couch in the lounge at Razor. I could do that at home. The problem I have with my house is that it’s so empty. I love being alone, don’t get me wrong, but it gets a little lonely sometimes.
And it’s not like I’m hanging out with anyone here, but at least I know there are people around, whether it’s J-Pow up in his office, or some people recording in the studio, or Mike messing around with his tracks. It’s comforting.
With nothing else to do, I pick up my guitar and lean back into the couch cushions, casually strumming chords, not even thinking about what I’m playing. I start to get into it, humming along a melody, making it up as I go along, and eventually singing softly.
“Take a breath, take a step forward, and don’t you ever turn around.” I strum a bit more as I try to come up with something to follow it with. “I know change can be terrifying, but existing without living is worse.”
“Not bad.” Comes a voice from behind me, and I nearly jump a foot in the air, like a comic book character.
The same person emits a bark-like laugh. I turn to see Kyle Carter, his blond hair overgrown and messed up, and his hands in his pockets, loosely. He has a very I-don’t-give-a-shit vibe about him.
“What are you doing here?” I sigh. No matter what I was saying before, I still really don’t like this guy. There’s something about his smirk that just makes me so uneasy.
“You somehow keep forgetting that I work here now.” He says, walking over to the fridge and grabbing himself a soda.
I scowl and mutter “right; work” under my breath.
Kyle turns around, his eyebrows raised, and pops open his soda can.
“What was that?”
I shoot him my best Carter smirk. “Nothing.”
Kyle looks at me curiously, a little smile playing at the side of his mouth.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have an attitude problem?” he asks, with an innocent tone of voice.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re an asshole?” I respond, easily, and he barks out another laugh. It’s kind of weird to hear him laugh. He doesn’t strike me as a person who laughs a lot.
“Fair point.” He responds, taking a large gulp from his can and then setting it down on the coffee table. “So what’s that you’re working on?”
“What? Oh,” I say, looking down at the guitar in my lap. “Nothing really.”
When he just continues to look at me, I elaborate.
“I mean, I’ve been writing a lot of songs recently, but they’re starting to all mush together in my mind. I don’t know if I’ve really figured out what I want to say.” I explain, leaning back into the couch.
“Hmm.” Kyle says, slowly, and sits down on the very end of the couch, his feet on the cushions, taking another gulp from his soda can.
My hand makes an involuntary twitch, and I try and hide it behind the guitar, but Kyle catches it.
“What’s that about?” He nods toward my hand.
“You shouldn’t put your feet on the couch.” I mumble, not looking at him.
Kyle lets out another laugh. “Are you serious?”
“I take naps here!” I exclaim, trying to stop myself from blushing, unsuccessfully.
Kyle looks at me, his expression serious. “Why would you take naps on this couch?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I say, a bit confused.
“My feet have been on it.” He says, with a grin.
I whack him on the arm and he laughs again.
“Ass.” I scowl, starting to strum my chords again.
Kyle is quiet for a while, listening, but then jumps into conversation again.
“Is this the work you’re doing with Freddie Junior?”
I eye him, suspiciously. “How did you know I was working with Freddie Junior?”
He just raises his eyebrows at me, waiting for me to get it.
“J-Pow.” I say through gritted teeth.
“You got it.” He lifts his can up to me in a sort of toast and then brings it back to his lips. “So is it?”
“No, just with Mike.” I reply. “Freddie Junior and I are supposed to start working together next month.”
“Well, I heard he’s really good at getting all this shit out of you. Like a shrink.” Kyle says, with something akin to a breathy laugh, his nose wrinkling.
“You saying I need a shrink?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.
“No,” He says, remarkably not sarcastic, “I’m saying that maybe Freddie Junior can help you with, I don’t know, making up some shit to say in your music.”
“You think I need to ‘make up some shit’ for my music?” I ask and now it’s my turn to raise my eyebrows at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Kyle smirks, looking like himself again. “Well, you grew up playing happy families in freaking 50’s Town, Kentucky until James Powell swooped in and made you famous. Is there really anything you have to say?”
I stare at him.
After a few seconds of silence, I stand up and start putting my guitar back in my case. Kyle watches me, his eyes curious, and sips more of his soda.
I swing the guitar case over my shoulder and head towards the door.
“Hey, what’s your problem?” Kyle calls after me.
I turn around and look at him. He looks completely casual, his feet still on the couch cushions.
“You don’t know me. You have no idea what my life was like in Kentucky, you have no idea how I became successful, and you have no idea who I am now or what my life is like.” I say and turn again to leave.
“Wait! Devon, hang on.”
I hear Kyle spring off the couch and then feel his hand grab onto my upper arm.
“What?” I ask, turning to face him.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He says.
I stare at him, barely able to believe it. “You’re what?” I ask, sure I misheard him.
Kyle smirks, which brings me back to reality a little bit. “Despite what you think, I’m not actually that much of an asshole, Devon. You were right; I shouldn’t have assumed that shit about you.”
“Who the hell are you and what have you done with Kyle Carter?” I ask, furrowing my eyebrows.
Kyle laughs again.
“Come on, I said I’m sorry. I mean it. And hey, look, I know we publicly and explicitly hate each other and everything, but let’s grab some lunch or something.” He suggests.
I give him a strange look.
He grins. “There’s a taco truck around the corner.”
“I’m in.”
Kyle:
“Where’ve you been all day?” Tay says when I answer my phone.
“At Razor.” I respond, turning the wheel easily with my free right hand.
I can practically hear Tay scowl on the other end of the phone, and I resist the urge to smirk. She’s really not happy about my switch to Razor. At first, when she was more on the sad side, I felt kind of bad for abandoning her, but now that she’s just disdainful, it’s much easier to make fun of her for it.
“I thought we were gonna grab lunch.” She says, obviously trying to get us away from the subject of Razor.
I curse at myself mentally for forgetting my plans.
“Shit, sorry, Tay. I was with…” I pause. How the hell am I supposed to tell her that I accidentally ditched her to get a taco with Devon freaking Pine?
“With who?” Tay asks.
“No one.” I respond, stupidly.
Nice going, Carter. Smooth.
I can feel Tay scoff at my pathetic answer.
“Devon Pine.” I sigh out.
There’s a moment of silence as Tay absorbs this from the other side of the phone. Then she speaks in an unnaturally soft tone.
“I think we have a bad connection. I could’ve sworn I just heard you say you had lunch with Devon Pine.”
I wince. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”
“What the actual fuck?” Tay says, her voice returning to its usual sharp quality, just as I pull into my driveway.
“I don’t know!” I say, defensively, getting out of the car and holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder as I unlock my front door. “We were in the lounge at Razor and I acted like a dick and he got pissed off and I was hungry so I suggested we grab a bite. It was no big deal.”
I toss my keys to the side and force my sneakers off of my feet, not at all enjoying this phone call thus far.
“Did you just hear yourself? Pine acted like a pussy because you hurt his feelings so you decided to take him on a lunch date?” Tay is fuming.
“Shut the fuck up, it wasn’t a date.” I snap. “And it wasn’t to make him feel better; I wanted to.”
Tay snorts, and I don’t like it one bit. Sure, Tay and I have gotten into tiffs before, but we usually get along really well. Right now, though, she’s getting on my last nerve.
“You wanted to? You wanted to go out for lunch with the guy you’ve hated more than anything for the past three years?” she asks, sarcastically.
“He’s not that bad, Tay.” I’m surprised to hear myself say that, but as soon as I do, I realize it’s true. I mean, I still think the kid had it easy, I mean his career was practically made for him, but he’s not as much of a pretentious douche bag as I expected him to be.
“You have got to be joking.” Tay says, with a derisive laugh in her voice, and I don’t know why, but that’s what sets me off.
“What’s your problem with him anyway? I mean, I understood when you hated him because I did; solidarity and all that shit, but seriously, what did the kid ever do to you? Have you ever even met him?”
“Hey, fuck you! You just met the kid, like, five seconds ago and now you wanna lecture me? Excuse me for being a little surprised that the guy you wanted to drop off the face of the planet a month ago is suddenly your best pal!” Tay exclaims.
“We got a fucking taco!” I almost yell. “Jesus, Tay, what’s gotten into you?”
“Me? Take a look at yourself, asshole.” She retorts, and I’ve had enough.
“Yeah, fuck you very much.” I say, in a sarcastically nice tone and hang up. Honestly, what the hell is going on with her?
Irritated, I settle myself into the couch and I’m about to flip on the TV when the phone rings again. Cursing, knowing it’s Tay with some more bullshit insults she undoubtedly wants me to hear, I pick up.
“What?” I growl, angrily.
“Shit, bite my head off, why don’t you?” comes a chuckling voice from the other end.
I pause to identify it and then…
“Pine?” I say, in surprise.
“Yep. Have you seen the article?” he asks, getting straight to the point.
“What article?”
“Well, that’s a no. Check your email, J-Pow sent it to us.” He responds, still with the no-bullshit tone of voice.
I grunt and reach for my laptop, which is sitting on the other side of the couch. I pull up my email and click on the link to the article Powell sent to both Pine and me.
When I see the headline and the accompanying picture, I can’t help but laugh.
“Oh, this is ridiculous.” I say into the phone.
“I know, right?” I can hear the grin in Pine’s voice and with one of my own on my face, I start to read the article.
Devon Pine & Kyle Carter—An Unlikely Friendship?
We all know and love these two hunky heartthrobs—or at least, when the Piner/Kylian wars are at a rest!—but it never seemed like they got along very well. Always avoiding each other at social events and dodging questions about each other, it seemed like the two lived in separate universes! However, it seems like a friendship has blossomed between the two since Kyle Carter switched over to Razor Records. The two were caught bonding over lunch downtown. Is James Powell—head of Razor Records—to thank for this unlikely bromance?
And it goes on.
“‘Bonding’?” I ask, with a smirk, and Devon begins to laugh.