Spin

Eleven

[RORY]

I slipped my AirPods out of my ears, the pre-recorded sounds immediately replaced with live ones. I smiled at my Converse-clad feet, pacing down the dark hallway towards the source of the noise and very carefully, quietly, pressing the swinging door open.

The room was trembling with the bass, Ace lost in the track with his eyes shut as he rocked his upper body with the rhythm. In typical Jack fashion, he was dramatically thrashing about, strumming with everything in him to attract as many eyes as possible. Pete's hands were steady, creating the perfect base for the rest to layer on top of, and then there was Finn.

It was impossible to look away once your eyes landed on him, the passion in his performance unparalleled. His eyes were screwed tight as he belted into the mic, the veins in his neck prominent as his vocal chords did all of the work his hands weren't. A single sweat droplet fell from his hairline, trailing down his face like a stray tear as he sang his heart out, only peeking his eyes open to look down at his hands and ensure he was hitting every single chord just the right way.

No matter how well I knew him, it felt like time stopped as those usually soft brown eyes met mine, dark and steady and enigmatic as he sang the last line. I understood the appeal because even though my ears were ringing as the song came to an end, I was left in a daze because the Finn Hastings chose to look at me while he was singing. While in reality they were the same person, there would always be a level of separation between him and my Finn.

"There she is," he spoke into the mic, lip quirked up in his signature smirk as he looked over at me, voice gravelly and tired. Even though it was just rehearsals, I could feel all the blood rushing to my cheeks as Finn gave me a cheeky wink and continued to draw the attention towards me. "What's shakin', sexy? Come here often?"

I widened my eyes at him, shaking my head in disapproval as he laughed. The guys all started joining in, cat-calling and whistling as Finn's smirk turned into a frown.

"Hey, not funny when you lot do it. Come off it."

"We're on a schedule, boys, wrap it up."

I glanced over at the familiar voice shouting towards the stage, seeing Dylan walking over with a subtle smile. She reached out, squeezing my shoulder in greeting.

"Hey, sorry. They have to be kept on track I've learned. Together, they have the attention span of a single squirrel."

"Don't be sorry, I fucking hate when he does that."

Dylan laughed, slowly walking away as she typed away on her phone. I found a chair and took a seat, wanting to be as present as possible but also knowing I had to finish writing the review I was working on. I was having a hard time at work, trying to be the best I could be while getting dealt the shittiest cards. Marisol was giving me bottom of the barrel stories and given that Finn's time in LA was soon coming to an end, it was becoming nearly impossible to focus on anything but finding as much time with him as possible.

Given that they were nearing the end of tour rehearsals as the real thing was steadily approaching, the show was nearly perfect. I was bobbing my head along as I worked, occasionally glancing up to be met with Finn's flirty gaze.

"I'm surprised you can focus like this."

Dylan had taken a seat a few chairs down as I gave her a shrug.

"I'm not really a desk job kind of gal," I sighed, shutting my notebook with the pen in it. "No offense to those that are. I just don't work best trapped in a monochrome cubicle for eight hours at a time. It doesn't do much for one's creativity."

"That's fair," she commented, holding eye contact. "I've met Marisol a few times. She seems like she runs a tight ship."

"That's one way to put it."