He left me saying he’d make some coffee and some breakfast; I think he might have even made a joke about him serving me breakfast this time around, but I was too distracted by the huge knot in my throat that made me want to burst into tears.
I closed the door, and I sat down on the bed, gripping the mattress. I wanted to cry so badly, but I felt stupid, and I didn’t want him to hear me cry. I tried to calm myself taking deep breaths and letting go of the sadness that had overcome me.
Still mad, I grabbed the towels from the dresser and marched straight to the bathroom.
It was only when I was rinsing my hair under the soothing hot water that I realized I hadn’t taken a change of clothes with me. I considered wearing my dirty clothes, but just the idea of it made my skin crawl. Well, I was going to walk out of here wrapped in my towel. What else could I do? Besides, he had already seen me naked. He shouldn’t have any problem with that, separate rooms or not.
So what was our arrangement here? No sex? No kissing? After all he had done every single damn day in Amsterdam trying to win me over? He had hugged me, and although he felt slightly more distant in the taxi, I thought he was just trying not to be overbearing. Did he not like me anymore? Why had he not told me on the phone this was going to be strictly business? God, I felt so stupid. I had come all the way here for this guy and for what? To record an album. Sure. And torture myself in the process.
I stepped out of the shower resolute. If this was how he wanted to play, two could play this game. I was going to make it hell for him to be around me. I dried my hair with a towel and then hung it in the bathroom to dry. I brushed my teeth—not that it was going to matter now to have fresh breath. With my hair still wet falling on my shoulders and my back, I wrapped another towel around me, and I walked out of the bathroom just as Lou was walking in the hallway holding an espresso cup with a saucer in his hand.
Our eyes locked, and he seemed startled. I did my best to keep a stern expression on my face, but my cheeks reddened, and I let out a breath. Sure, I wanted to taunt him, but I had no course of action just yet.
“I was bringing you some coffee,” he said, but as he did, he somehow lost the hold he had on the coffee cup and we both stared as the cup crashed onto the floor and broke into a million pieces, the contents splattering everywhere, mostly on the tiles and a few drops on the wall.
He seemed to come back to reality after a few seconds of staring at the spilled contents and the destroyed coffee cup.
“Wait,” he gestured toward me but not actually looking at me. “Let me clean it up. I don’t want you to cut your foot.”
“I don’t fucking care,” I replied, my voice full of bitterness, carefully stepping where there were no shards of glass, right in front of him as he knelt down on the floor picking up the bigger pieces. I kept my eyes on the floor—and on him—and I saw him glance up and look at my legs. Good. Get used to it, buddy.
I got to my room, and I slammed the door.
He could get a hint if he wanted to.
I opened my suitcase and started getting a few things out. I had just put on my underwear and my bra when I heard a knock on the door.
“Come in,” I said as I looked for things in my suitcase, standing directly across from the door; I knew what I was doing.
I registered the shock on his face as he walked in and found me in my underwear. I couldn’t deny it—it was entertaining to see him struggle.
“I brought you some coffee. I made it all the way to your room this time,” he said, smirking, placing it on the bedside table. As his eyes met mine, he gave me a nervous smile, and as they traveled down to my body I saw him exhale deeply. He wasn’t indifferent to me then. He still wanted me.
“Thank you.” I kept my eyes on his face, my heart clenching, feeling the familiar flutter in my belly caused just by the nearness of him. I wanted to make him suffer and yet, I wanted him too much to be able to wait. I wanted his hands on me.
“I’ll let you get dressed,” he said, turning around to leave, and I felt disappointment wash through me. No, no, no.
“I missed you,” I said, walking over to him in an attempt to make him stay.
I stood behind him waiting for a sign, a reaction, anything. He froze.
I heard him mutter something under his breath, then he turned around and kissed me.
He pushed me back onto the bed, and I dragged him on top of me. Victory.
“Fuck,” he whispered between kisses. “Why do you make it so hard to resist you, Ella?” His movements were rushed and desperate, which told me he had been holding back all along.
“You’re doing it all on your own,” I said softly. He looked at me with a puzzled expression on his face. “You don’t have to resist me. I want you.”
He crashed against my mouth, taking it forcefully, one of his hands supporting my head. My lips parted, and I gave in to his tongue, relishing the feeling. He grinded his hips into mine, and I wrapped my legs around him, wanting to feel him as much as I could. I winced at the thought he might suddenly stop and walk away.
“Say it again,” he demanded, looking straight into my eyes, running his fingers into my wet hair.
“I want you,” I replied, my voice almost choking and tears pooling in my eyes. I closed my eyelids to blink away the tears.
“Look at me,” he said, caressing my face.
I opened my eyes to look at him. Nothing could have prepared me for his stare.
The softness in his eyes alone was enough to make me come apart. I wanted to feel his skin, his hands and his fingers all over my body.
“I’m yours,” he said before placing a soft kiss on my lips.
“Say it again,” I murmured against his soft, full lips, mimicking his voice.
“I’m yours, Ella. All I want is you.”
I raised myself up, kissing him and flipping us over until he was on his back, and I was on top of him. I took his shirt off and started kissing every inch of his skin, savoring the taste of it, running my hands everywhere. I kissed his neck, his shoulders, running my fingers down his biceps. My movements were slow, but I felt like a sex-crazed person. I craved him so badly. I was on a Lou high, and I never wanted to come down.
“Seriously, what were you thinking? Separate rooms? How was that supposed to make me feel?” I asked him while I was still wrapped around him in a tangle of sheets.
“I thought…I thought that I needed to give you your space. I didn’t want you to think this was the only reason I wanted you here,” he ran his nose along my neck, “I was always serious about wanting to record with you. That was never an excuse. But yeah, I wanted you too, I just didn’t want to give you the wrong idea. And after the way I left you that last night in Amsterdam, I didn’t know if you still wanted me or not. I didn’t know how you felt…about us. I still don’t know how you feel about us.”
He gave me a glance as if he were looking for an answer.
Us.
I loved the sound of us. I loved the sound of the word us coming out of his mouth. A huge smile broke across my face, and I couldn’t really hide my happiness. I kissed him over and over on the lips and then my kisses started traveling down to his chest.
“I like us,” I smiled. I love us, I wanted to say. He grinned at me, and his smile reached his eyes. He looked genuinely amused by my response. I was crazy about him, and I wanted to let him know how much I wanted every part of him.
I trailed my kisses lower and lower on his chest and his abdomen. I locked eyes with him before telling him, “Let me show you how I feel about you.”
We wasted the whole day. We didn’t mean to, but after a lousy night of sleep on the train and a morning of shenanigans, we ended up falling asleep in the afternoon.
“Uh, look at us acting like Italians taking our afternoon nap,” I yawned when we were finally awake, “We’re fitting right in!”
“Let’s go walk around for a bit. I want to show you the city. I feel bad, we’re going to have to start working tomorrow
morning. I’m afraid we won’t have enough time to sightsee.”
I nodded, but I honestly wasn’t too concerned about it. Sure, I wanted to see Florence, but I was okay with getting acquainted with the place little by little.
We left the apartment, getting dressed in a hurry. We were both starving, so Lou took me to the restaurant where he was dining the other night when I called him.
I took a snapshot of him with the Arno as a backdrop and sent it to everyone back home. As I thought of the word home, I thought of my parents. I should probably give them a call. Should I tell them where I was, what I was doing? Would they be proud of me if I told them what I was here for?
CHAPTER 15
I woke up the next morning with a sudden thought: where was the damn studio? Wasn’t it supposed to be in this house? I was pretty sure I had seen every corner of the apartment and there was no room setup for a recording studio. We had played the night before, rehearsing the songs, and the thought never even occurred to me.
When I asked Lou, he showed me what looked like a closet door that led downstairs. The floor under the apartment was setup as a studio. I kept wondering who the hell would own two apartments by the river in Florence with one of them setup as a recording studio?
Every instrument we’d need was provided, including drums and bass.
“Is anyone else going to play those? My skills are limited to the piano and the guitar, you know that.”
“I’m going to play those,” he said confidently.
“You never told me you played the bass and the drums too.”
“You never asked,” he said, shrugging and giving me a smile. It made me think there were more talents of his I had yet to discover. He wasn’t the type to brag about stuff.
I sat at the piano and looked around, taking in my surroundings, suddenly feeling nervous.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I don’t know what I’m doing.” It was true. It was my first time in a recording studio. I had no clue what I was doing.
“You’ll figure it out.” It sounded like that could have been applied to so many things in my life that I still needed to figure out.
I went back to the penthouse to get dressed and when I came back downstairs, he was playing the drums. I hadn’t realized how soundproof the place was; I hadn’t heard a thing upstairs. When I opened the door, it was safe to say I was completely unprepared for the scene in front of me.
Hot. Damn.
He looked so fucking hot. How was it possible? I had seen him play so many times, and there had been plenty of occasions when I simply wanted to drop everything and kiss the hell out of him, but this? This was something else. If I thought he was hot before when I saw him playing some melancholic song on the piano, it was clearly nothing compared to the show that was taking place in front of me. His drum solo went faster and faster, his hair flying in every direction and every once in a while, I could see the smile peek out from underneath the mass of black hair. It knocked the breath out of me. I loved seeing him have so much fun, because it just made me want to do the same, and feel everything through the music. Desire pooled in my belly, and if we weren’t expecting the sound guys to come in, I would have taken him, right there, right now. It wasn’t just sheer desire. As I got to know him more, I was more and more in love with him, more in love with all the little nuances of his personality. He finished his solo as the realization slowly hit me, and I exhaled a deep breath.
He moved his hair out of his eyes and smiled in my direction, still catching his breath. I marched to him, and before he even had a chance to get up, I sat on his lap and kissed him like I never had before.
“You are so fucking hot,” I told him shamelessly.
“Glad you liked that,” he laughed, still breathing heavily. I kissed him on the neck and my hand made its way under his shirt. He didn’t stop me. My hand made its way to his fly and I could tell he wanted me as much as I wanted him.
His eyes were clouded with desire as he removed my shirt and started kissing me everywhere. It didn’t take much longer for my bra to be removed as well, his long fingers exploring my skin relentlessly. So much for getting dressed, I thought.
“What time will these guys be here?”
“We have a little time,” he teased me with a wicked grin.
When we both came down from our high, Lou grabbed a drumstick and hit the shortest, nearby cymbal. I laughed, because it was funny, but also ridiculous; our bodies were still joined, and he rolled us over, my hair falling on top of him.
“I never want to move,” he announced.
Unfortunately, we had to.
We barely had enough time to get dressed before we heard the doorbell.
I tried to fix my hair and was hoping my face didn’t have the “just fucked” look, but when I went to the restroom to pee, I realized any hope was lost. Only an idiot could not have figured out the glow on my face was due to hot, mind-blowing sex behind a drum kit. I was counting on the sound techs to be idiots.
When I got back to the studio, Lou was already deep in conversation with the sound engineers laying out the plan for what we’d be working on. I was surprised by his tone. He wasn’t the usual sweet, easygoing guy; there was an edge in his voice that made him sound like the boss. Well, sure, he was the boss, but I had never seen this different side of him. He introduced me to Michele, a skinny, curly haired dude with glasses, and Giuliano, a tall, bald man who was a sound engineer but also a singer in a local band.
I asked him what type of music they played and he said they did a mix of reggae, soul and ska.
“You should come check us out,” he told me in English veiled with a thick Italian accent. I promised we would go see them sometime.
Lou was going to record some guitar track first and then I was going to record the piano part for the same song. He had played this song with me before, but at the time I was the one on the guitar. I studied the sheet music in front of me for a while. Reading music I actually wanted to play felt surreal. Exciting but surreal.
I couldn’t focus on my sheet music, because I kept looking at the man in the recording booth. I stepped out of the control room, and the phone started vibrating in my pocket.
“Lou sent me the contract,” Ally said, after she asked if we had left the bedroom at all.
“We haven’t even talked about it,” I replied, leaning on the wall of the terrace, looking at the city in front of me.
“Shocking! I know you were preoccupied with other things,” she said cheekily.
“Stop!” I warned her, but I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not going there. I can’t…I can’t discuss our sex life.”
“Since when? You must have it really, really bad. Anyhoo, everything seems fair and square with the contract, so you can go ahead and sign it whenever you want.”
“Everything okay over there?” I asked her.
“Everything’s good as far as I know. I’ll be in touch. Sign the contract. You’re working for him, you’re not just his squeeze.”
“Ew! Don’t say that. You make me sound like one of those girls that hangs off rappers.”
I heard footsteps behind me, and soon after, arms wrapping around my waist.
“I miss you, I’ll call you soon,” I told her, saying goodbye.
“I thought you were chickening out,” he whispered to my ear.
“I wasn’t. But I found it hard to concentrate since I kept looking at you.”
“Hmm, I’m glad to know I’m not the only one who has trouble concentrating when we’re around each other.”
“You definitely aren’t the only one,” I sighed.
Lou kissed my hair and neck and then gently moved my shirt to kiss me on the shoulder.
“Let’s go, we have a lot of work to do,” he said in that bossy voice of his.
“Should I wear headphones?” I asked, as I sat on the bench. I saw him smile and shake his head. “Sorry, stupid question.”
“No, it isn’t. I keep forgettin
g this is all new to you.”
We played it together first. I didn’t know if any of this was customary or he was just trying to make me feel more at ease; afterwards, I did at least five takes of the same song, before working on a different one.
Every time I started over, I felt better about the way I played. My keystrokes were fluid and with each take I gained more and more confidence. I felt something else too. Amongst the nervousness mixed with the excitement of doing something for the first time was the realization that I actually loved this whole experience. I could see how recording for days and days would wear you out, but I had gotten used to constant repetition early on in my life. Besides, playing like this seemed more like playing with a purpose. A pianist's career is dictated by a lot of work and intangible gratification. Here, at least, I’d be playing for something that would be a finished product. It was way better and made more sense than a shot into the void.
We took a lunch break and worked again until late evening. I was used to long days in Amsterdam but by the time we were done, I was exhausted. I must have looked tired too, because Lou carried me upstairs piggyback, or maybe he just used my tiredness as an excuse to do that. I was hoping he would lay me back on the bed and let me rest, or join me and give me a piece of him. Instead, he said, “Take a shower, we’re going out.”
CHAPTER 16
It took me a few more days before I worked up the nerve to call my parents again. I usually did it every one to two weeks. So much had changed in the last two weeks since my birthday. I was in a different country and I had—even if just momentarily—a different job. I don’t know why I was so nervous as I called them and waited for the answering machine’s greeting; I had done it so many times since I left. Maybe it was my gut feeling telling me that this time they’d be answering.
“Hello?” My mom said.
Talk to her. You can do it, I thought.
“Mom, it’s me.”
“Ella, where the hell are you?” she asked with a voice full of concern.
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