Stone Cold Notes: A Rock Star Romance (The Seasons Change)
Stone Cold Notes: Chapter 3

ONE WEEK AT GOOD MUSIC, and it was like I’d always been here. No more hang ups, I usually remembered to switch from ‘good morning’ to ‘good afternoon,’ and Natalie rarely looked at me with suspicion.

She did hiss at me a little when Adam Wainwright stopped at my desk to flirt with me again, but she cooled off quickly, citing Adam would ‘flirt with a pig if it had a dress on.’

I wasn’t too sure I liked Natalie.

A weekend at home with my family had fortified me for my second Monday on the job. I wore my blue skirt again, with a white top this time—one I would never dare wear at home because it would be stained in an instant. I felt good. Professional and put together. Nothing pig-like about me besides my big, round butt.

The clack of Natalie’s heels on the marble floor signaled her approach. She stopped behind my desk, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder before crossing her arms.

“I need you to stay a little bit longer. Studio 3B placed an order for food, and it’s coming within the next hour, but I have an appointment and can’t wait for it.”

My stomach clenched. I’d been looking forward to going home. “Can’t the delivery driver take it up to them?”

Her eyes rolled so hard, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d made a full loop in her skull. “Don’t be lazy, Wren. We don’t allow anyone outside the company to enter the studios. You’ve signed an NDA, but Joe Schmo from the pizza place hasn’t. What’s to stop him from recording the session?” She huffed. “Think, please. Jesus.”

There was really no other answer I could give besides yes. We both knew that. And though I wanted to get home more than anything, disaster wouldn’t strike if I left in an hour instead of fifteen minutes.

I just wish Natalie would fully commit to being a villain if that’s what she was going for. She was nice and funny during half our interactions, which made her switch to a bitch-monster particularly whiplash-y.

“That’s fine. I can stay tonight.” My voice came out more meek than I’d intended, but that wasn’t something I could control.

“Good.” She squeezed my shoulder. “And try not to flirt with the band, even if they’re coming onto you, okay? It’s just really not a good look.”

Luckily, my burning face was all the response she needed. Natalie strutted out of the lobby in her pencil skirt and swing coat. A blast of arctic wind slapped me when she opened the door, cooling my hot cheeks.

Minutes ticked by as I waited. Upstairs, the studios were still filled with musicians, but most of the support and administrative staff had already left for the day, so it was quiet in the lobby.

I held out my phone and snapped a picture of myself making a funny face with my cheeks blown up and my eyes bugging out. Then I texted it to my great-aunt with a bunch of emojis. She’d get a kick out of it.

Forty-five minutes later, the delivery driver dropped off three large bags of food and a tray of drinks. Balancing them carefully, I rode the elevator to the third floor, pretending my stomach wasn’t tied in a hundred knots.

As I approached studio 3B, I wondered if I should knock or just go in. My hands were really too full to let myself in, so I—

My train of thought stopped as a tall, tall man strode toward the same destination from the opposite direction. His eyes were on the ground, so I could look at him for a moment, but only a moment since his long legs ate up the short distance between us.

He pulled open the studio door, nearly hitting me with it. He hadn’t even noticed me standing there helplessly. If he had, he’d chosen to ignore me.

“Excuse me?” I forced the words out loud and clear. He stopped, his back to me, head cocked to show he was listening. “Can you hold the door for me? I have your dinner order.”

There was a pause, and my mind jumped over a hundred conclusions straight to the one where he’d let the door fall closed without a second thought.

Luckily, he pushed the door open wide, his long arm bracing it. As I passed him to enter the studio, my shoulder brushed his chest, and I gasped. His head jerked at the sound, and for a fleeting beat of my heart, his eyes raised to inspect me. It was over as soon as it had happened. Callum’s icy eyes glanced away, then he moved out of the way entirely, letting the door snick closed at my back.

I was suddenly in a roomful of rockers and had never felt more out of place and conspicuous. They must’ve been on break from recording, because they were all sitting around on the couches, feet kicked up on the coffee table in the center, laughing about something.

The woman with ribbons of midnight hair streaming down her shoulders noticed me huddled against the wall first. Her smile grew bright, and she stomped on the floor with excitement. Iris Adler, the lead singer of The Seasons Change, was twice as pretty in person. Even in baggy sweats and no makeup, she didn’t have to try to be the prettiest woman in the room. She simply was.

“Oh, look, an actual angel has arrived,” Iris announced, hopping to her feet.

Every head turned in my direction. Adam stayed in position, slouching on the couch with one leg slung over the arm, but a slow, mischievous smile spread on his lips. Callum was across the room, arms crossed, leaning against the wall. It was Rodrigo Chavez, the muscular drummer with soft brown eyes, who took pity on me. He took the drink tray from my shaky hands and motioned for me to follow him.

As I placed the bags of food on the coffee table, Adam shifted to sit with his elbows on his knees.

“Hi, Wren,” he cooed. “If that food is as good as it smells, I think I’m gonna love you forever.”

I couldn’t help but give him a small smile. From our limited interactions, I’d surmised he was somewhat of a jackass, but a harmless, charming one.

“Since I didn’t make it, that love would be misplaced, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.” I straightened and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.

Adam chuckled and stole a fry from one of the Styrofoam containers. “Have you met everyone yet?”

“I’m sure I’ve greeted them all.” I caught myself fiddling with my skirt and quickly snapped my hands to my sides. That felt awkward, so I clasped my hands in front of me. That felt unnatural, but I made myself stop fidgeting.

Adam barreled over my discomfort, making a round of introductions. “Iris, meet Wren. She’s the ray of sunshine at the front desk.”

Iris had just taken a big bite of a veggie burger, so she covered her mouth with one hand and waved to me with the other. Adam continued, pointing out a producer and sound engineer, who were both digging into their food. They hardly spared me a glance, but that wasn’t new for me.

“Roddy, this is Wren.” Adam tossed another fry into his mouth, and my stomach grumbled. I was hungry, and the smell of their dinner wasn’t helping.

Rodrigo nodded, bracing his ankle on his opposite knee. “Nice to meet you, Wren. You weren’t working here when we recorded our last album, were you?”

“No.” I tucked my hair again and nearly slapped my hand away to stop the nervous tic. “I’ve only worked here a week.”

He nodded. “Didn’t think so. I distinctly recall the last woman being surly some days and all up in my grill other days. That’s not you.”

“Wren has never been surly a day in her life.” Adam whacked Rodrigo’s arm with the back of his hand.

“I’m sure I have at least one or two days.” My chin trembled with the effort it took to continue this conversation and not melt into the floor.

Adam’s grin warmed on me. “Speaking of surly, that quiet bastard over there is Callum. Callum, say hi to Wren.”

As if in slow motion, Callum’s head turned, and his gaze landed on me. Not on my face, though. It seemed his focus was on my hands, which were ringing the life out of my skirt.

Then, even more slowly, he spoke in a smooth, deep, southern drawl. “Hi, Wren.” It came out sounding more like ‘Ha, Rin,’ and I instantly loved the way he said my name.

Except no. I couldn’t love anything he did. He was a beautiful rock star, and I was the plain girl with the big butt who sat at the reception desk. One he passed every day without ever returning my quiet greeting.

“Nice to meet you.” I thrust the words from my throat. His gaze was still on my hands, so I allowed the fabric to unfurl and flattened my palms to my sides. Lips curving into a lopsided smirk, his shoulders jerked once, then his attention shifted to a window, and I was set free.

“You should hang out,” Adam said. “We have enough food to feed a legion. Stay a while, have dinner with us. I want to get to know the girl at the desk.”

A balled-up napkin hit him in the chest. “Leave her alone,” Iris said. “She’s just trying to do her job.”

I tucked hair that was already tucked and shifted from foot to foot. Everyone was staring at me again. I probably should have left, except my ballet flats suddenly felt more like lead boots.

“Aren’t you off the clock?” Adam asked. “Isn’t it, like, illegal to make employees work more than a certain number of hours?”

The engineer huffed a laugh, slapping his jean-clad thigh. “You’re fucking funny, kid. I’ve been locked in this room for twenty hours during a marathon recording session. You were there. You know this for a fact.”

Adam nodded and shot me a sheepish grin. “But Wren is an office girl. Rules apply, don’t they?” He moved into my space, making my heart kick up a notch. Adam Wainwright was handsome and famous. Being flirted with by him sent me sideways. I didn’t know what to do with myself. He probably knew that. The Seasons Change was a newer band, but Adam had been famous long enough to be well aware of the effect he had on women. Especially women like me who weren’t used to attention.

I shifted again, moving to the side, one step closer to the door. Callum came into view, and to my shock, he was watching my interaction with Adam with keen interest. His deep, cold pools were narrowed and focused, not quite on my face, but on me. His attention was more disorienting than being flirted with by a beautiful rock star.

“Um…” I stopped myself from tucking my hair for the hundredth time, “I don’t know about laws or rules, but my workday is over. Thank you for the offer, but I have a long commute home, so I need to get going.”

“Come on, Wren. You’re too young to be acting like a responsible citizen. Stay a while.”

I shook my head. “I really can’t.” If my feet didn’t weigh a thousand pounds and Callum Rose wasn’t burning me to the ground with his steady, unyielding gaze, I would have darted from the room to put an end to this back and forth.

Adam opened his mouth, most likely to argue, but it slammed closed at the low, commanding southern drawl coming from across the room.

“Let her go, Adam.”

Adam whipped around to look at Callum, and Callum answered him with a cold, blank stare and a faint shrug. I took the opportunity to move my leaden feet and make my escape.

Rodrigo sprung from his seat and opened the studio door for me. “After you, Wren. Thanks for the food. Sorry shit got weird. It happens from time to time.”

A light laugh bubbled out of me. “You’re welcome. And don’t worry about the weird. I don’t mind it.”

“Then you’re always welcome to come sit in and watch us work, if you’re into that.” He patted my shoulder before I could sputter out a response. “Have a good night.”

The following day, Adam stopped at my desk just before it was time for my lunch break. “Hey.” He pushed a small succulent in a vibrantly painted pot toward me. “This is an apology.”

“Hi.” I picked up the tiny pot and fingered the green leaves. “You don’t owe me an apology, but thank you. This is really cute.”

“Like you.”

His brow lowered, and he leaned on his elbows, bringing his face closer to mine. I’d gone home last night sure I’d been imagining his interest in me. Then I’d chalked up the possibility that he might have been flirting with the fact that I was the only available woman around. There was Iris, of course, but from what I’d seen on the internet, she was most definitely taken.

And here he was again, bringing me a plant and calling me cute. This evidence was undeniable.

“Thank you. Again.” My giggle was wobbly and nervous. “All of this is unnecessary.”

He cocked his head, shooting me a crooked grin. “Let me decide that. I was a pushy ass last night when you just wanted to get home. The fact that Callum had to speak up really hammered that point home. Don’t let me off the hook.”

“Then I accept your apology and this adorable succulent.” I placed it beside my computer and flashed him my best smile. My lips barely trembled. “It’s already brightening up the space.”

He grinned wide, pleasure seeping into his crystalline blue eyes. “Again, like you.”

That made me snort a little laugh. “Holy granola, such lines, I swear.”

“I’d never use lines on you.” His long fingers tapped the surface of my desk. “I know I’m probably going to get you in trouble if I keep standing here talking to you, and I don’t wanna do that, but I’d like to hang out with you. There’s a party I’m going to Friday night. What do you think?”

My eyebrows raised. “Think about what?”

He laughed. “What do you think about coming to the party with us? I know you said your commute is long. I’ll send you home in a car service when you’re ready. Or, you know, you could crash at my place.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. At the invitation. The implications. All of it. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Is that a yes? Callum’ll come too for your protection.”

I rubbed my lips together. My first instinct was to say no. I had obligations. And wild nights of partying weren’t something I did anymore. Okay…well, I’d never really done them, but even less now. But it didn’t have to be a wild night. And he was promising a car home. I was definitely ignoring his sleepover invitation. It wasn’t even close to being an option. My great-aunt Jenny was always telling me I was allowed to be young. That I should be young. But still…

A party with Callum Rose.

“It’s a maybe.”

With a wide, triumphant grin, he backed away from the desk. “You’re rad, Wren. Just sayin’…”

“That wasn’t a yes,” I rushed out.

He held his hands up. “I didn’t hear no, so I’m taking it as a win. See you later, cutie.”

He sauntered to the elevator with a skip in his step, his whistle echoing off the lobby walls. I definitely hadn’t said yes, and if Adam knew the reason I’d said maybe, he probably wouldn’t have been whistling.

Natalie appeared out of nowhere a minute later, nearly shoving me out of my seat. “Go to lunch.” She picked up my succulent, rotating it around in her palm. “Cute, but make sure not to clutter up your desk. Not a good look.”

“Don’t worry.” I grabbed my purse from the drawer where I’d stashed it. “I won’t. See you in an hour.”

She covered the desk for me every day, and every day, she acted like the most put-upon person on earth. I had decided not to let it get to me and took my full hour even if I didn’t need it.

I’d packed my lunch but stopped at a café a block from the studio to buy a mocha. Though it was winter, the sun was shining bright, and the temperature was just warm enough for me to sit on a bench in the park and people watch while I ate.

The line for coffee was longer than expected. After I’d been waiting a minute or so, the hairs on the back of my neck rose as someone got in line behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and nearly swallowed my tongue when I locked gazes with Callum.

I whirled around to face forward out of instinct, but I couldn’t just pretend I hadn’t seen him. He was right behind me. Probably closer than he should have been. If I hadn’t been wearing a scarf and coat, I might have felt his breath on my neck.

I turned around fully, tucking my chin in my scarf. That wasn’t going to work, since he was almost a foot and a half taller than me, so I tipped my head back to meet his gaze.

“Hi. You probably don’t remember me, but—”

“I remember you, Wren,” he drawled. Rin. God, I loved that too much.

“Okay.” Hearing his voice still felt like a kick to the solar plexus, but I wanted more of it. “Are you getting coffee before you head to the studio? I can always grab it for you.”

“That’s all right.” He nodded at my lunch bag in my hand. “You’re on your break.”

The line moved, so I stepped back. There were still three people between me and the register.

“Yeah, I am. But I wouldn’t mind.”

He stared back at me but didn’t reply. Like this, face to face and up close, I noticed things about him, details I stocked away in the cavity of my chest reserved for all things Callum Rose.

His cheeks were flushed. Probably from the cold. And it looked good on him. Made him more human. Almost touchable. He wasn’t impervious to weather.

The pools of his eyes weren’t as opaque as they’d appeared from far away. I could see subtle flecks of lighter blue and a tiny bit of yellow and gold. Like pebbles in the bed of a clear, glacial stream.

The tops of his hands were slightly chapped, and the skin was rugged looking. Knuckles slightly scarred. A fresh cut on his right hand.

Beneath his thick, golden stubble was a dark bruise on his jaw and a cut on the opposite cheekbone. Looked like Callum Rose had been in a fight recently.

After ordering, we waited at the end of the counter for our drinks. I was at a loss for words, and Callum didn’t seem to be interested in speaking. But it hadn’t escaped my notice that he’d chosen to stand right beside me, the sleeve of his leather jacket brushing my wool coat. That had to mean something.

“Adam invited me to the party you’re going to Friday.”

Callum startled, the hand that had been on the way to his face freezing in midair. “He did?”

“Mmhmm. I haven’t said yes yet but—”

“Say no.” He moved in front of me, heat blasting from his hard glare. “You’re not going to any party Adam is going to.”

My stomach plummeted so fast, I had to bite back bile. “That isn’t…um…”

“No,” he said again.

“Why?” I whispered. I shouldn’t have pressed it, but if he was going to be an asshole, I wanted him to fully own it.

“The parties Adam and I go to aren’t for a girl like you.” He reached around me and grabbed his cup from the counter. “Take your coffee, Wren. Go eat your lunch. Forget about this.”

His cheeks were flaming red. Not from the cold this time. Was he burning up at me?

“What does that mean?” I asked.

He shook his head again, hard enough to cause a lock of his blond hair to swoop down on his forehead. He brushed it back roughly while scorching me with his heated gaze.

“The answer is no.”

Then he turned on his heel and stalked out of the shop. Like he was angry at me. Why? For thinking I might be associated with him in public? I didn’t understand, not really. My throat felt swollen. It was almost impossible to swallow.

I wasn’t sure why I was surprised. At one point, I had thought I’d known Callum better than anyone else in my life. Better than anyone in his life. But letters can lie. Words on a screen that had meant everything at the time weren’t relevant anymore. Besides, the last email I’d read from Callum had been over three and a half years ago. I’d changed since then. Obviously, so had he.

I ate my lunch in the park, barely tasting it. My mocha scorched the roof of my mouth. I tried to sort out my feelings, but I couldn’t decide if I was hurt or angry, so I let it go. It didn’t matter. I had other things—other people—in my life who were far more important than an arrogant rock star.

Four and a half years ago

Dear Callum,

Hmmm…you’re right. That is pretty stone cold. But the fact that you noticed you hurt her feelings and told me about it means you did care. Maybe you didn’t know how to make it right? Or didn’t feel capable. Or maybe you’re just an a-hole. Time will tell!

Birdie is a nickname everyone calls me. I’ve never gone by my real name. It’s Wren, btw, but no one calls me that. It’s Birdie until the end of time.

Granola is holy because I say it is! I don’t know, it’s just something I say. Get used to it!

An Alabama accent! Jeez, maybe one day I’ll actually get to hear you speak.

Tomorrow’s my birthday. Eighteen and only kissed once. I’m determined to replace a date for prom and get kissed on the dance floor. The only problem is, I’ll never ask a boy, and I’m pretty sure I’m invisible. But we’ll see.

Where are you now?

Your friend,

Birdie

Little Bird,

I missed your birthday by a week. You should have given me warning. You know how fucking bad I am about writing back.

Happy birthday anyway. I feel slightly less like a child predator writing to you now.

I am an asshole. No need to sugarcoat it. A stone-cold asshole.

Holy granola is extremely cute. Never stop saying it.

Wren, huh? I like Little Bird. That’s who you are to me. And you’re my friend now, is that right? My little bird friend.

You don’t need to kiss anyone just to do it. Keep it to yourself until you replace your shadow. That’s coming soon. You’re not invisible, it’s just…no one’s seen you. Do you get that?

My voice…yeah, maybe one day.

We’re staying with Rodrigo’s family on their farm in South Carolina. They’re letting us camp out and use their bathrooms to shower. It smells like cow shit everywhere, but it’s peaceful. I like it.

Callum