GREYSON

The beat of the song flows through the studio sending a shiver up and down my spine as I lean back in my wheelie chair. I tap my foot gently against the floor in rhythm with the song, humming along to the lyrics and carefully picking out the flaws and where there could be improvements. I've spent the last year of my life working under the label my dad's signed to as a songwriter and when they signed their newest artist, he handpicked me to be his writing partner and producer.

A project I wasn't sure I was ready to take on, but after some wise words and encouragements from my dad, all my nerves settled and I persevered. The last year easily becoming the best of my life, because I'm finally doing what I'm meant to and not lingering with the hope that engineering may become my cup of tea.

"Okay, that was good, Jonas," I say after cutting the track and hitting the speaker button. "Let's try it one more time but let's slow down the chorus just a touch."

Jonas nods from inside the booth, moving the headphones off his ears to rest around his neck before running his fingers through his thick brunette hair. "Alright, but then can we take a break? I'm in need of a coffee."

"You get this take right and I'll even let you call it a day," I chuckle through the speaker, letting it go before leaning back and calling for him to do it over. Jonas slides the headphones back on over his ears and nods his head for me to restart, and when I press the play I move up to the soundboard and play around with the bass.

His final take for vocals is damn near perfect, and with a little music magic the track will be in shape for his album. The perfect fit with all the other tracks we've made together, almost ready to share with the head of the label to determine if it's ready to be released. After nearly a year of writing, it feels good to finally see the product coming out of it all.

"You going to head out too, Grey?" Jonas asks when he steps out of the booth, shaking his hair off his forehead before plopping down on the couch and tossing his feet up on the coffee table.

I shake my head at his question, turning in the chair to face him. "Not quite yet. I'm going to finish this track up and I'll send you the final project when I finish."

"Alright, man," Jonas nods and hops up, grabbing the handle to his guitar case. "But you deserve a break too. You work hard, Greyson and don't think I don't notice that even when you're off you're working."

"What can I say?" I shrug. "I love it."

"I love it too, but that doesn't stop me from taking a hard earned break," he pats my shoulder and heads for the doorway. "I'll see you soon, Grey."

"Yeah, see you," I wave as I twist back around to the soundboard. I push over to the computer, and grab the headphones off the desk to put them on. With the mouse in one hand, I open up the files and begin bringing them together to pour my soul into the song. The software like a giant puzzle, ready to be put together blind.

I don't realize what time it is when two hands slip around to cover my eyes, shaking me from the trance I was in. It only takes me a second to realize it's Emmy, her hands too soft not to be and when I rest my hands on her wrists she moves her hands away from my face and moves my headphones down to my neck.

"What are you doing in here all alone, superstar?" She asks, resting back against the soundboard.

"Working," I chuckle, leaning back in my chair. "Which I believe you should be doing right now," I say after checking the time on my watch. "What are you doing here?"

"I took a short day," she shrugs, holding up a brown paper bag to me. "Jonas texted me and said you were working yourself to death and could probably use some food."

"How thoughtful of him."

Emmy snorts at my comment, swatting at my arm. "How thoughtful of him? How thoughtful of me! Your best friend who took off from work early to feed you."

I hum softly, leaning back. "Sorry, you're right. Thank you."

"You know, I don't appreciate that sarcasm," she points at me before grinning brightly. "But you're welcome. Now stop working and come eat fast food that's terrible for us with me."

"Just one second, I'm nearly finished," I tell her and go to put on my headphones when she pulls the aux cord from its plug in.

"If you're going to finish it, the least you can do is let me hear it," she hums as she walks over to the couch, settling down on the cushions with the paper bag. "Go on, let me hear it."

"Be kind," I tell her, adjusting some of the melody in the background before playing the song in full for Emmy. She sits quietly in the corner, bobbing her head gently to the music and bites into her burger as she listens. Her short black hair swaying around her shoulders, when it finally finishes I wait in anticipation for her reaction.

"It's good, Grey," she nods with her mouth full. "Really good."

"And that was disgusting," I laugh as I move over to the couch in my chair, pointing to the bag. "Toss me one of those."

"This," she points to herself. "Is sexy, my friend."

"I'm sure your future husband will think that when he sees you talking with your mouth full," I say and catch the wrapped burger when she tosses it to me.

She shakes her head and points at me, "You're an ass."

"Yeah, but I'm your ass," I smile in her direction, putting my feet up on the table. "You really like the song?"

"Yes," she nods. "Just like I have every other song you've shown me."

I nod, exhaling slowly. "This is good."

"Of course, it's good," she laughs. "It's because it came special delivery from me."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it," I smirk and lean back in my chair. "You're kind of full of yourself, you know that?"

"Who do you think got me that way?" She questions. "I mean, Greyson, my mother is Maggie Morgan. She's basically just a pool of compliments. Of course, I have a big head."

"Sure, blame your mom," I roll my eyes. Despite having grown up on different ends of the country, Emmy has always been and will always be my best friend. Almost exactly one year older than me to the day, she is the product of my mom's best friends and the first friend I ever made. It's easy when you're always put together from a young age, and when we moved to Malibu when I was three it devastated us.

My mom was pregnant for the third time with the twins, having been Maggie and Zane's surrogate when Maggie was unable to conceive naturally herself. It was never hard on the twins to be away from them, because they were never knew what it was like before. When Emmy told me that she was moving to Los Angeles to help set up the office for her publishing firm, I was over the moon to have my best friend back in close proximity.

Her being in New York and me in California feels like a lifetime ago, and I never want to go back to it. She makes things better.

"You can't seriously be going back to work," Emmy gasps when I roll back over to the computer. "Greyson, you need to relax and give yourself a break. You can't expect your brain to keep pumping out bangers if you're overworking yourself."

"I'm not working," I laugh and drag the finished song file into a email to Jonas. "Just sending the finished product off to Jonas. Then I'll go home, deal?"

"Deal," she nods, squeezing my shoulders. "Okay, I've got to go but I'll see you later, kay?"

"Yes," I smile softly, resting my hand over hers.

"Love you," she hums.

"Love you too," I wave as she steps out of the studio and into the hallway. I finish closing everything up before grabbing my keys out of my pocket, and carry my guitar case into the hall. My drive home silent, and longer than expected due to traffic from rush hour.

When I get home I'm fully prepared to spend the rest of the night crashed on the couch and stay there until morning, but before I can even get settled on the couch there's a knock at the door of my two-bedroom apartment. Far too much room for one person, but it was exactly the apartment I was looking for and the view from the balcony helped seal the deal. With a groan, I get back up to my feet and head down the hall toward the apartment door and pull it open to the curly haired brunette waiting on the other side.

"Robyn?" I question when I meet the soft hazel eyes of my sister's best friend in the doorway.

"Hi," she smiles softly and shifts her weight from side to side before settling. "I'm, uh, in a bit of a situation."

"Oh?"

She nods. "Vee hasn't called you yet?"

"N–," I start to say when I feel the vibration of my phone in my back pocket, and find Stevie's name on the screen. I hold it up for Robyn to see before answering it, "Stevie."

"Hey, I have a favor to ask you."

"You don't say," I laugh and lean into the door. "Does this favor have anything to do with Robyn?" I ask as I look up to meet Robyn's eyes.

"She's there..." she trails off. "Sorry, I told her to wait."

"Come on, Vee, we both know she's not one to listen," I tell her and Robyn innocently holds her hands up in front of her. Her eyes brighter than I last remember them, but that shouldn't be a surprise. She looks different than when I was living at home, older and more mature. "What's going on?"

"I'm homeless," is all she says, and I immediately know why she's here but before I can say anything Stevie's in my ear asking if she can say. Her voice the most gently and nicest I've heard it in a long time. "Please?"

"Please?" Stevie repeats her sentiment.

"Yes, Vee. I'm not about to let your friend sleep in her car," I tell her as Robyn steps into my apartment as I reach for the the suitcase in the hall.

"Thank you, thank you! You're seriously the best and I love you."

"You're welcome. I love you too."

"Thank you," Robyn mumbles ass I say goodbye to Stevie. As I shut the door, tucking my phone back into my pocket, I realize that things are about to take a turn.