Sounds Like Rain [bxb]

Isaiah Bennett doesn't do this. He pours drinks, writes in the margins of his notebook, and keeps his heart locked behind the bar. But something about Amir, those low, rough laughs, the way his fingers move when he talks about melody makes Isaiah want to break his own rules.
What starts as two strangers trading lyrics and story pages over cheap rum turns into late nights on Amir's couch, knees brushing, voices dropping lower. One charged look across the bar. One "come through" text at 2 a.m. One kiss that tastes like whiskey and bad decisions and everything they've both been starving for.