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The lights of the cameras blinded Shane momentarily, and so he kept his smile on his face. He knew that this smile would appear normal, but it always felt like a mask to him. Rose’s waist was warm against his arm and he inwardly cursed her stylist again for suggesting that they match. It was only the MTV Awards. Who cared if they matched?
Rose’s stylist apparently. Rose had shrugged and just said, “Put me in whatever.” She had no qualms about scratchy fabric or being too exposed. She danced around in nighties and body suits all the time on tour. Shane, however, did not.
And now he was in a sheer shirt to match Rose’s sheer dress and his nipples were going to be all over Instagram by the next morning. He took a slow breath in through his nose. If he had known this was what would be in store for him when he had picked up a guitar at the age of 12, he might have put it back down.
The flashes finally stopped and Rose dropped her posed smile to actually grin at him. Shane felt himself smiling back. The flashes started up again, but this time he forced himself to hold Rose’s stare. The press loved them together. The longtime producer and the pop star who had taken a chance on him. Truly, Shane was grateful. He had been producing music since he had been 18 with shitty equipment out of his one bedroom apartment in LA. Several years had passed with him taking on any project. Commercials, indie projects, small songs for artists who couldn’t write at all. It had all changed four years later.
He had met Rose at a party (he had no idea how they both ended up there at the same time), and she was complaining about how she had just cut ties with her old record label and was looking for a new producer. Shane had blurted out that he was a producer, had given Rose his SoundCloud, and the rest was history.
They had written her fifth album together and had risen to stardom overnight. Or at least it felt like overnight. Suddenly, people wanted Shane to help him make music. Write songs for them, Create beats for them. It was overwhelming in the best way. He was constantly busy now. He had gone on tour with Rose for their album, coming on stage to play a few songs and then duck back off stage. He let Rose handle all the singing and dancing. He just wanted to write music.
“Can we have some solo shots of Rose?” a photographer shouted out.
“Absolutely,” Shane said, a little too quickly. The photographers who had been at a few red carpets before laughed. Shane waved them off and hurried over to the side and out of the way. He stepped off the red carpet, his eyes still adjusting to the change in light. There was still something about being in front of that many cameras that felt wrong to Shane. It made his skin itch.
He craned his neck around looking for his manager when someone bumped into him. He turned around quickly and was startled by the most attractive man he had ever seen in his life. He gave himself a mental high five for not letting his jaw hit the floor. Golden curls that fell artfully on his forehead, broad shoulders, and a lopsided grin, the man clearly had to be a model or an actor. Or maybe just a god.
“Does it not hurt your feelings?”
The man’s question came from beautiful lips with an accent Shane clocked as European. Maybe Russian? He stared at him for a few more moments before-
“What?” He cringed at himself.
The man smiled, and nodded towards Rose, who was still posing by herself. “They told you to go away.”
“Oh, that. No, that doesn’t bother me.” Shane stared into the hazel eyes looking back at him. He could write a million songs about those eyes.
A well groomed eyebrow raised incredulously. “It does not bother you that your partner is more famous?”
“Rose isn’t my partner,” Shane said, hurriedly. He frowned, “Well, she is, but not like that.”
“Not like what?”
There was a smirk on the man’s lips and Shane wanted to lick it.
“I mean she’s just my music partner.” The man shifted slightly, his back to the photographers and interviewers. He was shielding their conversation from prying eyes, Shane realized with a thrill.
“So, who is your partner then?” The man’s eyes sparkled at him and Shane felt himself swallow.
“No one right now. I didn’t bring a date.”
The man hummed to himself and straightened up. “So, you do not like taking pictures?”
Shane snorted, “God, no. I love music, but I hate performing. Even for that small amount of time,” he waved over his shoulder, indicating the red carpet. “I’m really bad at it.”
The man gave him a lingering look up and down, clearly checking him out. Shane felt his insides roil with heat, and the man opened his mouth. “I do not agree. I’ve seen your videos and listened to your songs. The music makes you more real.”
Shane’s mouth did drop open at that. “Excuse me?”
The man winked and was suddenly whisked away by a tall woman in a black dress. Her curls bounced as she dragged the man inside the auditorium, speaking to him quickly in a different language.
Rose finally left the red carpet and her manager hurried her over to Shane. “Sorry about that,” she said, adjusting the straps of her dress.
“No problem,” Shane said faintly, staring after the man.
–
“Rose,” Shane hissed. Hours had passed and Shane still had no idea who the man was. He had been watching him all night, watching him smile and greet people. He had posed with the efficiency and practice of a model, so Shane had decided that was what he was. If he wasn’t, Shane would be shocked.
Rose glanced over at him, and Shane muttered, “I have to ask you something. Private.” Rose’s eyes narrowed in interest. Shane waved her closer, and Rose scooted her chair so that they were touching. Several award shows back, when he and Rose had been fresh off the success of their first tour together, they had made the mistake of gossiping without realizing a camera had been locked on them.
By the end of the night, all of the internet had known that Rose had a massive wedgie and that Shane thought that one of the male presenters was cute. It hadn’t been that much of a disaster when the guy had slid into Shane’s DMs later in the week and they had spent an enjoyable weekend together. But still, he and Rose were careful now.
“Who’s the cute guy in the white jacket?” Shane whispered into Rose’s ear, his hand covering his mouth. She looked at him incredulously and then gestured all around them. Many men were in white jackets. “He has a thick accent. I think Russian?”
“Oh, that guy?” she nodded towards the man who had talked to Shane, and Shane nodded hurriedly. “That’s Ilya Rozanov,” Rose said, her voice tickling Shane’s ear. With her hand this close to his face, he could smell her moisturizer.
“He’s a model from Russia,” Shane felt a thrill of vindication run through him. “He’s been in a ton of music videos because he’s randomly a pretty good actor and can have chemistry with a brick wall.” Rose settled back in her chair, “That’s what I’ve heard at least.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, while watching Ilya.
“Honestly, I would love to have him in one of our music videos. He boosts engagement super well. People can’t get enough of him.” She looked back at Shane, who was looking at Ilya again.
“Wait.”
Shane’s head snapped back to hers. “No, I was just curious.”
Rose grinned at him a little evilly. “No, Rose, no.” She waggled her eyebrows at him. “I’m begging you to stop,” Shane pleaded. Rose shimmed her shoulders and Shane dropped his head into his hands as she cackled.
–
The next day, Shane was in his recording studio, swiveling around in his chair. He was scrolling on Instagram, watching reels of Ilya walking down various runways. There are hundreds of fancams dedicated to the model. Photos of him in only underwear, photos of him in suit jackets with no shirt, exposing his abs. Shane had to actively unlike some of them after mindlessly double tapping.
He forced himself to put his phone down on the couch next to him, his guitar on the other side bouncing from the impact. He groaned, rubbing his eyes with his palms. Shane hadn’t obsessed over a guy in, actually no, this may be the first time. He forced himself to pick up the electric guitar and strum a few chords.
Shane had been playing with a few chords, bouncing back and forth to create a bouncy beat. He knew it would have sounded better on the synth, but he always liked to start with the guitar first to build a song. There was something about starting from the roots and creating something from the ground up that he really enjoyed.
He played an A chord, then dropped down to a G. Back to A, F minor, then G again. Shane leaned over and pressed the record button on his computer. Some people liked to pause and write out their thoughts in journals, but Shane preferred having the whole process in an audio format. He could go back through a million times and pick apart his previous ideas. Rose called his method insane, Shane preferred meticulous.
He repeated the chord pattern a few times, then started humming to himself. There was a faint idea of what he wanted, or rather needed, to write about. There was no way he would get anything done unless he wrote Ilya Rozanov out of his system.
“I was in a sheer shirt, the day that we met. We were both in a rush, we talked for a sec,” he sang to himself, keeping the time with his foot. He kept the strum pattern going, playing with some words in his mind. “You friended me up, so we could connect. And I really hope you send me a text.”
“That line could use some work,” Shane said aloud, marking a time stamp on his computer with a note for his future self to come back to. “There also needs to be another verse before the chorus,” he added aloud.
Repeating the strum pattern again, he said aloud, “Okay, chorus intro here.” Shane took a deep breath and sang, “Who’s the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent?” He could feel his ears going red as he sang the next lines. “Maybe it’s all in my head, but I bet we’d have really good bed chem.”
Taking in a breath, he sang in a higher pitch, “How you pick me up, pull ‘em down, turn me ‘round. Oh, it just makes sense. I bet you talk so sweet while you’re doing bad things. That’s bed chem. How you’re looking at me, yeah, I know what that means, and I’m obsessed. Are you free next week?” He let the guitar chords hang in the air, and he paused the recording.
Shane had never in his life been more mortified and proud of writing something. Oftentimes, he let Rose take the reins when writing more sexually explicit songs. Shane had studied enough songwriters and song lyrics to know how to put together a devastating love song, full of metaphors and double meanings. It was like a long puzzle that he felt satisfied for cracking when someone complimented it.
But, this? This was different. He had written the full chorus last night on a scrap piece of paper when he had gotten home from the after party. It was like some horny demon had possessed him and had him write out these lyrics. He knew that he had struck gold though. Rose would die when she heard them.
Thinking of Rose made Shane realize he should probably reach out and let her know that he had an idea for a song. He grabbed his phone, and frowned when he saw that his manager had texted him. Opening the text, he felt his mouth drop with shock.
Hi Shane! Svetlana Vetrova reached out to me last night. She said one of her friends met you and was really interested in being in you and Rose’s next music video. Pretty sure it’s Ilya Rozanov which would be INSANE. Let me know if I can give her your number so she can reach out personally.
Just then, as if an act of god himself, an Instagram notification dropped down from the top of Shane’s phone.
Ilya Rozanov has followed you.
Shane sucked in a quick breath of air and slammed his phone back down on the couch. He forced himself to take several deep breaths in, holding them for seven counts and then releasing them slowly. His heart was pounding. It was like he had subconsciously made this happen. What was the word Rose always used? Oh, right. It was like he had manifested this.
He picked his phone back up and opened Ilya’s profile, despite the fact that he had spent most of the morning stalking it. There had been a new photo posted. Ilya posing in the white jacket, his shirt unbuttoned indecently low on his beautifully sculpted chest. The jacket had florals embroidered on the sleeves, adding a delicate air to Ilya’s outfit.
There was a photo of him posing by himself, then with Svetlana. His arm was around her waist and they were both giving the camera glacial stares. Shane felt his eyes draw naturally to Ilya’s lips which were set in a straight unforgiving line. The third photo was a shot of Ilya looking over his shoulder, smiling wide. The afternoon sun was bouncing off his hair, giving him a golden glow.
Shane closed his eyes and groaned. This man was so attractive. Looking over his shoulder, as if someone would be in the room with him, Shane opened the app back up and scrolled down a few times. There was the photo that had been haunting Shane all morning. Ilya in gray sweatpants, shirtless, clearly at the gym. If Shane zoomed in, he imagined he could see the sweat on Ilya’s chest.
He screenshotted the photo and closed out Instagram. There was no way he was going to get caught liking a weeks old photo. He opened the photo in his photos app and hesitated for a moment before zooming in on the crotch of Ilya’s sweatpants. Rose had always said if a guy was wearing gray sweatpants he was trying to show off his dick. Shane didn’t know enough about fashion to confirm if that was true or not. He had stayed away from gray sweatpants in public though ever since. Just to be safe.
Shaking his head, Shane forced himself to close out the app. A sudden idea struck him, and he almost giggled from sheer nerves. He pressed record again on his computer and picked up his guitar.
“This is the second verse, going into the chorus intro,” he said into his microphone. He strummed a few chords getting the rhythm back.
“And now the next thing I know, I’m like, manifest that you’re oversized. I digress, got me scrollin’ like, out of breath, got me going like, oooh,” Shane nodded his head grinning to himself as he sang the intro to the chorus again and then marked the spot with a note on his computer.
The first verse and the whole chorus of the horniest song he had ever written were both done. Now, he needed to show it to Rose before it went any farther.
–
“Okay, what did you just have to show me?” Rose asked, sitting down on Shane’s couch. She had let herself into his house a few minutes before, announcing her presence by kicking off her shoes and raiding his pantry. She cracked open one of his ginger ales and Shane took a deep breath.
“You can’t laugh at me,” he started and Rose looked surprised.
“When have I ever laughed at you?”
“Literally two nights ago,” Shane deadpanned, but Rose waved him off.
“I meant about music, sorry. I promise to behave.” She curled up in the corner of his couch. Her guitar nestled still in its case at her feet. Shane had most instruments and equipment they needed in his studio, but Rose always loved to bring her personal guitar with her.
“Okay,” Shane said, steeling himself. He took a deep lungful of air, and started playing the intro he had created. Rose’s eyes lit up with excitement.
“Shit, I already love this,” she said. Shane grinned, and began to sing. By the time he had reached the second verse, Rose was bouncing in her seat, her jaw dropped.
“Who’s the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent?” Shane sang and Rose shrieked.
“Shane, you didn’t!”
“Maybe it’s all in my head,” Shane continued, grinning at her. “But, I bet we’d have really good bed chem.” Rose screamed so loudly Shane was sure his windows shook. He managed to finish the last of the chorus before Rose was on her feet jumping with excitement.
“You wrote a horny song about Ilya Rozanov! You wrote a horny song about Ilya Rozanov!” Rose chanted as she jumped up and down, and Shane laughed.
Placing his guitar to the side, he looked at her seriously. “Okay, so you like it?”
“Shane!” Rose exclaimed. “I love this! We have to keep writing it.”
“I was kinda stuck on what to do next,” Shane admitted. “I said a lot of what I wanted to say and now I don’t really know where to go.”
“Cool, how about if I come up with some ideas, and you can work on the background beat? I’m assuming you want synths and drums? Unless you’re thinking of keeping it stripped down? A sexy acoustic serenade?” Rose shimmied her shoulders at him and Shane snorted.
“No, I wanted some synth and extra production. No sexy serenade from me. You go ahead and I’ll work.” Rose nodded enthusiastically, and whipped out her journal. Shane could already see her writing down his lyrics and adding the chords above them. She began to add her weird notes to remind herself of the beats and the stresses on each word, and Shane turned around to his computer. He slid his headphones on and started a new file.
About thirty minutes later, Rose poked him in the shoulder. Shane lifted the headphones off his ears. She grinned at him, and said, “I think I have it. Do you have the beat I can sing to, or should I get my guitar?”
“No, I think it’s ready,” Shane replied. “It definitely needs work, but you can see what you think of this rough draft and then I can make more edits.”
“Perfect,” Rose said.
Shane pressed play, and the familiar electric chords rang out through the speakers. Rose tapped her foot to the beat, as Shane sang through the first verse again. Rose caught on to the cues in the music quickly, smiling in appreciation at the drums Shane had added.
She joined in singing on the chorus, jumping up the octave and making it sound breathier. Shane grinned in approval at her and pointed at her to start singing the second verse.
“Come right on me, I mean camaraderie. Said you’re not in my time zone, but you wanna be. Where art thou? Why not uponeth me? See it in my mind, let's fulfill the prophecy.” She oohed and Shane had to pause the beat because he was laughing so hard.
“That first line is fucking insane,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “How did you come up with it?”
“Your horny brain transferred its brain cell to me,” Rose replied. Shane threw a pillow off the couch at her and she laughed, ducking.
“I didn’t know what to do for the intro into the chorus because I don’t know what color Ilya’s eyes are,” Rose said after a few moments.
“Hazel,” Shane said without even stopping to think.
Rose lifted her eyebrows at him. “Oh, so I see we did do some light stalking on the internet today,” she said lightly.
Shane ignored her, pressing record again on his computer. “What about Who’s the cute guy with the wide green eyes and the big bad-”
“Dick?” Rose cried giddily, and Shane squawked.
“No!” He paused. “I didn’t actually know where I was going though with the rest of that line.”
“No, just leave it,” Rose said. She cleared her throat, “Who’s the cute guy with the wide green eyes and the big bad mmmh? Like ooooh, I know I sound a bit repetitive, but I bet we’d have really good bed chem.”
“I like that, but change repetitive to redundant,” Shane said, making a note on his computer. “It fits the beat better.”
Rose nodded and hurriedly scribbled the rest of the lyrics down in her journal. “What even is bed chem?” she asked.
“Like, both of you being early risers,” Shane explained. “You have good chemistry in bed.”
Rose stared at him. “That is not what we’re singing about.”
Shane felt his cheeks begin to heat. “Well, maybe it’s also having a good physical connection with a person. They know what you want, and you know what they want.”
Rose nodded, but Shane wasn’t sure if she understood completely.
He took a breath, he couldn't believe he was about to say this. “Okay, you know how in porn-”
Rose let out an ungodly cackle. “Shane!”
“You know how in porn,” Shane continued louder, making himself heard over Rose’s noise. “When they both come at the same time? You know that’s hard to do, but if you believe in bed chem-”
“If I believe in bed chem!”” Rose screamed. There were tears in her eyes and she was beginning to hiccup from how hard she was laughing.
“If you believe in bed chem,” Shane persisted. “That’s the feeling you want to chase with a person! You know it’s going to be a good time.” He refused to say the word magical. Rose would never let him hear the end of it.
“Wait, I have an idea for the bridge,” Rose said. She leaned over to grab her guitar, still gasping for breath.
“And I bet we'd both arrive at the same time. Bed chem!” she sang and Shane knew immediately what needed to come next. He waved at her to repeat the chords and he sang.
“And I bet the temperature is at six-nine. Bed chem.” Rose screamed again in delight. Shane didn’t know how she was able to do that and never lose her voice. He motioned at her to keep playing and sang, “And I bet it's even better than in my head. Ooooh.”
“Incredible,” Rose said. “I do think it should be ‘thermostat’s set at’ instead of ‘temperature,’ but whatever. This song is perfect. When should we release it?”
“Um, never?” Shane said incredulously.
Rose put her guitar back in its case, and Shane paused the recording on his computer. Rose gave him a serious look. “Shane, I love you. But, I feel like this is the most fun you’ve had writing music in a long time. Do you agree?”
Shane sat back in his desk chair and thought about Rose’s words. He hadn’t written a song this quickly in years. Music had always come easily to him, but putting his feelings down in words had always been harder. Always like a lock he had to crack.
“I think that recently I’ve been so worried about each note and where everything will go and how it will sound on tour,” Shane started slowly. Rose nodded encouragingly. “Music has always been a way for me to, I don’t know, talk to people and in a way that will actually make them listen. But, it’s felt bigger than that recently.”
“Like, so many artists have been reaching out, and asking me to write songs for them. Which is fine, I like doing it. But then, what if they hate it? What if it’s not what they wanted? What if they had an idea in mind, and I gave them something completely different because I didn’t understand how they were feeling?”
Shane felt his chest heaving, and strangely, like his throat was tight. Rose moved to sit on the ottoman by his chair. She reached out and gently took his hand.
“Shane, if the people you’re writing music for don’t like the demo you give them, what happens?”
Shane huffed at her, “They send it back with notes.”
“And then what do you do?”
“I fix it.”
She smiled at him. “Until it’s perfect, because that’s who you are, Shane. Listen, I understand that this job can be hard. You’re putting yourself out there for the whole world to see and listen to. And, you’re doing that for other people who can’t seem to do it for themselves. But, you’re good at this. Maybe the next project we do doesn’t have to be perfect. Maybe it’s just fun for us. Who cares if it doesn’t get any awards?”
Shane stared at her unimpressed. She rolled her eyes. “Okay, I know you want an award, but maybe we make a plan to write at least one song like this a month or something. Just for fun.”
Shane opened his mouth to agree, but Rose put a finger against his lips. “However, I need to record and release this song because I love it so much. Please?” she begged, pressing her palms together and giving him her best pleading face.
“Rose,” Shane groaned. “It’s so goofy and weird.”
“And that’s what makes it so great!” Rose cried. “It’s messy and it’s vulnerable. It’s horny and goofy and optimistic about love! It’s perfect. It can just be a single or something. It doesn’t have to go on the next album. Just release it for fun!”
Shane groaned, and Rose cheered. “I’m only agreeing to this after our managers listen and give the final approval,” Shane threatened, but Rose waved him off.
“They’ll love it. Because I love it and you made it and I know that you love it too.”
“We have to change some of the more incriminating lyrics,” Shane said, turning back to his notes. “Like ‘shirt’ in the first verse to ‘dress.’”
Rose rolled her eyes at him, “Fine, loverboy. Whatever you want.” She grinned slyly at him as she stood to head into the recording booth. “I bet Ilya will figure it out within a day.” Shane glared at her.
–
The song went viral. Rose and Shane both promoted it on their social media for about a week, then dropped it on a Friday night. The first day it hit 3.5 million streams and Shane swore he blacked out for a minute when his manager called with the news.
Rose had called his screaming and he could tell that she was jumping up and down. All he could make out were the words, “Told you, new muse, Ilya!” He hung up with her out of sheer mortification. So what if he maybe had a new muse? So what if maybe he had written a handful of ideas for new songs about Ilya? He still hadn’t talked to the guy since the award show.
He had forwarded his manager’s message from Svetalana to Rose, and had told her to handle it since Rose was usually in all the music videos and Shane was decidedly not. He hadn’t decided yet if he was disappointed or relieved that Ilya hadn’t reached out to him personally. Maybe he genuinely was just interested in Shane’s music. The model had liked each of Shane’s Instagram posts and stories about the new song. Not that Shane had been looking for Ilya’s name on the list of likes.
Shane wandered into his kitchen, searching for his water bottle before he headed back into his studio. He had been creating a lot of music recently. Mainly just a few beats and then a handful of lyrics that he could tell would expand into songs the moment he sat with them for a long period of time.
He swore to himself that when he wrote a new song about Ilya, because at this point it would be a when and not an if, it would be more discrete. More vague and less targeted. The fans had already been analyzing who Rose had been talking to all night at the MTV awards. Several theories had been suggested, including Ilya's name in the list. Many had dismissed him since there was no proof that Rose had spoken to Ilya. A smaller group of fans were insisting that they needed to start looking at who Shane had been speaking to all night and that was when Shane turned his phone off.
There was a general sense of mortification that he had released something so explicit. His mom had sent him a text saying “Congratulations on the new song!” She had followed it up with a “Wow!” and Shane had wanted to crawl under his blankets and die of embarrassment. On the other hand, he was incredibly proud of this song. Music had come naturally, but it wasn’t always easy to express himself. This had been such a smooth and simple song to write; part of him never wanted that feeling to go away.
Grabbing his water bottle, Shane glanced down at his phone and something caught his eye. A sinking feeling descended through his stomach as he saw a notification on Instagram.
One message from Ilya Rozanov.
Shane’s water bottle fell to the floor with a clang. Shane yelped and jumped back, “Shit!” He looked down at his phone again, the notification winking out of sight as his screen went black. “Shit!”
Ducking down, he quickly wiped up the water and set the water bottle back on the counter. Closing his eyes, he took a breath and rolled his shoulders back. He could do this. He could look at an instagram message from a cute boy. Who he had written a song about. And heavily implied that Shane hoped his dick was huge.
Maybe he should move back to Canada. He could totally do his job remotely.
Taking a fortifying breath, Shane slid open the message, and waited impatiently for the app to open.
Ilya Rozanov: It’s very interesting that I was in a white jacket and you were in a sheer shirt the day we met. Then this song happened to come out. Safe to say I am your new muse, yes?
“Holy fuck,” Shane said to himself. He glanced desperately around his kitchen, hoping an idea of how to reply would come to him. Nothing did. He tapped his fingers against his counter, trying to wrack his brain for what to say. Did he deny? Did he apologize? Did he offer to have Ilya’s babies?
Before he could unpack that last thought, another message came in.
Ilya Rozanov: I think it is only fair for you to take your new muse out for dinner, yes? You use my likeness in a song, I get to go on a date with a pretty boy.
Shane’s mouth dropped open. Pacing around the kitchen, he ran his hands over his face. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. This was the best and worst day of his life all wrapped up into one. He shook out his hands and forced himself to make a decision. He was going to go on a date with the most beautiful man he had ever seen. If it sucked, at least he would know to move on from Ilya Rozanov.
Mind made up, Shane nodded to himself and started heading towards his closet. He needed to pick out an outfit. Find a restaurant. He had to call Rose. Then Shane jolted, he needed to reply to Ilya first.
Shane Hollander: I think that could be arranged. Did you have anywhere in mind?
Ilya Rozanov: My house? I can cook. Then, we can test your bed chem theory ;)