and the stars will all come out

chapter twenty-six! ☆

THE ONLY THING THAT TORE LANDRY OUT OF THE NUMBNESS WAS THE DREADED VOICEMAIL THE FOLLOWING MORNING.

She'd spent her first night back at the apartment in total shock. She wasn't sure how she'd even managed to drag herself out of that basement to leave when everything in her was so numb, or how she was able to summon blood back in her feet in order to drive herself back to where she actually lived. 

The time he'd brushed her fingers while she'd been playing his guitar had nothing on this.

The only thing Landry could think about was the feeling of Dave's lips pressed on hers.

There was a difference, by the way. There had been a moment during that kiss when the air had shifted, and he had been the one grabbing her, kissing her, taking it further. The only way Landry knew how to kiss was tepid, tentative, and G-rated, because she hadn't kissed anyone since high school, and she'd be turning twenty-seven in February. What the fuck was that?

Hours had passed and she could still feel his lips against hers, faintly. She wasn't sure if it would ever end.

Just when it seemed that she was truly cursed, she raised the phone to her ear to check the voicemail, and sure enough, on the other end, was a quiet voice with absolutely no background noise.

"Next practice is Saturday, December 5th. My house. Three to five. Don't be late."

☆

"DUDE. IF WE'RE GONNA RECORD, WE GOTTA GET A FUCKIN' WHITEBOARD."

On the other side of town at the cabin, Dave had definitely gotten caught up (again) in the album planning mania. The hyperfocus hit, and the only thing he could think about was how much they had left to plan, and suddenly he couldn't bear it anymore.

(Which was good, since he definitely needed something to focus on after yesterday.)

He slammed his hands on the coffee table, sending a scattering of loose papers flying in every direction. Nate and Taylor looked up from their instruments, startled.

"Dave, chill out, man. What's the deal with a whiteboard?" Nate asked.

All over the place, Dave was already pacing around the basement, running his fingers through his short hair. (This had felt more relaxing when he'd kept it long.)

"We need structure, dude. A visual roadmap for this album. We can't just wing it. A whiteboard will keep us organized, focused, and on track. No more getting lost in the details."

"It's not a bad idea," Adam piped up from his place at the soundboard. "How big are you thinking?"

Dave didn't respond right away with his mind racing. The truth was, buying a whiteboard wasn't the only thing on his mind, but it was the only thing he was allowing himself to think about right now.

He didn't want to think about it right now, and that was reasonable, considering the moment after Landry had left, Taylor had started cracking jokes about it left and right, and Nate's face had pinched slightly upon hearing the news. He didn't need to say it, but the message was clear: Please don't start doing all of that in the basement.

He didn't know what he was going to do the next time he saw Lani.

Dave took a deep breath, trying to push aside the conflicting thoughts and emotions swirling in his mind. 

"Alright, let's go big. I'm talking wall-sized," he finally replied, a hint of determination in his voice. "We're mapping out the whole process. Song order, themes, recording schedule, everything. We're gonna make this album the best damn thing anyone's ever heard. Let's win that fucking Grammy this time."