bed chem | drew starkey

CHAPTER 12

MID-LATE NOVEMBER 2023

Aurora leaned back against her couch, her notebook balanced on her knees, her pen tapping absently against the page. She'd scribbled half a verse and scratched it out, unsure of where to take it next. Her phone, on speaker, was propped up on the armrest as Devin's voice filled the quiet space of her apartment.

"You've got to admit," Devin said, his tone playful, "you've got pretty sweet gigs. All the acting, emotions, the drama—it's free inspiration."

Aurora snorted, flipping to a fresh page in her notebook. "It's not that simple. I can't just pull a song out of thin air."

"Well," Devin started, a teasing edge creeping into his voice, "why don't you write one about me?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, please. What would I even write about?"

"I don't know. My jump shot? My impeccable fashion sense?"

"Impeccable, huh?" she teased, smirking. "I'll think about it. But you'd have to sit front row during my shows if I do."

"Deal," Devin said, chuckling. "What about you? Got any ideas for real?"

Aurora hesitated, chewing on the end of her pen. "Maybe I'll write one about..."

He perked up. "About?"

She grinned, her tone turning playful. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"You wanna sign an NDA or something?" she teased.

"Maybe I do," he shot back, clearly amused.

She laughed, shifting the phone closer. "It's just... I'm known for writing about my love life. People hate me for it."

"Why would they hate you for that?"

"It's weird," Aurora said, sighing. "When I'm in a relationship, no one cares if I write love songs. But when I'm single? Suddenly every guy I'm seen with gets these comments. Like, 'Be careful, she might write a song about you!' As if that's some terrible thing. Honestly, I'm giving them free publicity if anything."

Devin chuckled, but there was a soft undertone in his voice when he replied. "People just like to run their mouths. I don't see the problem. You're putting feelings out there that everyone relates to—whether they admit it or not."

"Exactly!" Aurora said, her frustration melting a little. "It's like, do they think the guys are gonna complain? Half of them are thrilled to be mentioned in anything."

Devin laughed again. "Well, if you ever write one about me, make sure it's the best one on the album."

"Yeah, yeah," she teased.

Aurora glanced at the clock on her phone, realizing how late it was getting. "Alright, Booker," she said, stretching out on the couch. "I need to actually focus and write something before it's 3 a.m."

Devin's laugh came through the speaker. "Alright, alright. Get to it, superstar. Don't forget about my song idea."

"I'll put it in the 'maybe' pile," she teased. "Goodnight, Devin."

"Goodnight, Aurora."

She hung up, tossing her phone onto the cushion beside her. The room grew quiet again, the faint hum of the city outside her window the only sound. Aurora stared down at her notebook, her pen hovering over the blank page.

It wasn't like she didn't have songs ready. She already had Espresso written, recorded, and edited—completely polished and ready to go. But for some reason, she couldn't stop second-guessing it.