bed chem | drew starkey

CHAPTER 39

MID MAY 2024

the living room was quiet—well, technically quiet.

aurora sat on the floor, back leaned against the base of the couch, her legs stretched out in front of her, notebook open on her lap. a candle flickered on the coffee table. the tip of her pen tapped the page in a rhythm she wasn't quite aware of.

she was trying to write. trying being the operative word.

because next to her, sprawled across the couch like he owned the place (he did not), was drew. fully stretched out in sweats and a hoodie, one leg hanging over the armrest, eyes locked on her like a child at bedtime begging for one more story.

"please," he said again, drawing out the word in a long groan, dragging a pillow over his face dramatically. "aurora, come on."

she didn't even look at him. "no."

"why are you like this?"

"because i said so."

"that's not an answer," he whined, flinging the pillow off and turning onto his side so he could hover over her shoulder. "just play me the song. just once. i'm right here. i won't even blink. i'll sit perfectly still and won't say anything and you can pretend i'm a houseplant."

aurora cracked a smile, biting her lip to hide it. "you're too loud to be a houseplant."

"i'll be a silent houseplant. a very sexy leaf."

she sighed, pen still hovering midair. the notebook in her lap had maybe six words on the page, and none of them were remotely coherent. something about "say my name" and "everything just stops" the song was not coming together.

not with drew right there. definitely not with bed chem lingering like a secret between them.

"i'm serious," he said, reaching out to poke her arm. "you told me you named the damn song after something i said. i should have, like, rights. or at least an exclusive preview clause."

"okay first of all, i didn't name it after something you said," she lied, without shame. "and second of all, rights? what is this, a freedom speech?"

"basically," he said, pouting. "you're withholding me of my muse rights."

"you're emotionally dramatic."

"and yet you love me."

she paused. that was unfair.

he smiled smugly, knowing exactly what silence meant. aurora kept her eyes on her notebook, flipping the page for dramatic effect.

"i just... i don't want you to hear it yet," she said finally, quieter this time. "not because it's not good. it is. it's just... chaotic. a little embarrassing. definitely too honest. and i want to release it when it's mine. before it's everyone else's. before it's yours."

he was quiet then. and not just fake-pouting quiet. actual quiet. she peeked up.

he was watching her, the teasing gone from his expression, something softer in its place. not hurt. just understanding. even admiration, maybe.

he reached out, gently brushed his fingers against the back of her hand.

"okay," he said. "you win."

her brows raised. "that easy?"

"no. it's killing me inside," he admitted, flopping dramatically again. "but i get it. it's yours first."

aurora let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "thank you."