Brinley arrived at Fast Track Music a little earlier than usual, letting the hum of the studio wash over her before the day really began. It was quiet now, but the air carried the energy of upcoming sessions, microphones waiting, cables coiled, and the faint scent of coffee mixing with polished wood and electronics.
Nitika waved her over immediately. "Good morning, superstar," she teased. "Today we've got a couple of new acts in the studio. Keep your eyes open and your notebook ready."
Brinley grinned. "I'll do my best. Don't worry."
Her first meeting was with a rising indie band. They were friendly, energetic, and clearly impressed with Fast Track's efficiency, and, apparently, Brinley herself. She handled scheduling, microphone setup, and notes, all while exchanging casual conversation. One of the band members lingered a little longer than necessary, complimenting her on her organizational skills and easy demeanor.
Jaxson stood a few feet away, observing. Not interfering, but noticing. His jaw tightened slightly not in anger, not in irritation, but a subtle prick of awareness that made him pause. He watched the way the man smiled at her, the small tilt of his head, the way his eyes lingered on her hands as she worked.
Brinley, oblivious, laughed at a joke one of the musicians made. The sound, light and genuine, reached Jaxson's ears like a reminder of what he'd once let slip away. He glanced down at his tablet, pretending to check schedules, but his focus was entirely elsewhere.
"Keep your cool, Jaxson," he muttered under his breath. "Don't make it obvious."
Later, Brinley was in the control room with Nitika, coordinating a recording session. The artist they were working with, a well-known pop singer, kept throwing subtle glances her way, complimenting her insight and attention to detail. Brinley answered politely, maintaining professionalism, but she could feel Jaxson's gaze from across the room.
When she glanced at him, he gave her the smallest, almost imperceptible nod, a signal of recognition. His expression was calm, composed, but the subtle tightening around his eyes betrayed his awareness: he didn't like seeing someone else appreciate what he once had. A flicker of jealousy, carefully restrained, passed across his face.
Brinley noticed. Not the jealousy itself, but the weight behind it. It was unspoken, quiet, and intriguing. She allowed herself a small, knowing smile before turning back to her work.
The afternoon brought a brief lunch break. Brinley and Nitika walked to a nearby café, talking shop and music business strategy. Brandon had sent a text earlier, asking for notes on wedding logistics, and they laughed about color schemes and venue arrangements while sipping their coffee.
Returning to the studio, Brinley found Jaxson reviewing session notes, quietly managing the schedule. He didn't say much, just a quick, "Everything running smoothly?" as she passed. She nodded, smiling politely. He returned the gesture, but there was a subtle intensity in his eyes she couldn't ignore.
It wasn't anger. It wasn't pressure. It was awareness. Attention. A quiet acknowledgment that he was noticing her, seeing her in a way he hadn't allowed himself before.
Brinley felt a flutter of satisfaction. She was still in control, still holding her ground. She wasn't ready to let him back in entirely, but letting him see a fraction of what he might be missing? That felt… right.
By late afternoon, the studio was buzzing with energy as the pop artist's session went into overtime. Brinley moved between the control room and the recording space, taking notes, managing time, and checking levels. Jaxson lingered nearby, occasionally offering suggestions, but mostly watching her handle it with competence.
At one point, Brinley looked up to see him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a small smirk tugging at his lips. Noticing her glance, he gave a fleeting shrug, as if to say, See? You're amazing. And yet, beneath the calm exterior, she could sense the flicker of tension, his subtle jealousy at the attention she was getting, the reminders of what he'd once walked away from.
It made her heart race just a little. Not with fear. Not with longing. But with the thrill of power in knowing she could provoke a reaction in him without even trying.
The day ended with Brinley filing session notes, coordinating the next day's schedule, and walking back toward the exit. Jaxson passed her on his way out, glancing at her with that same quiet intensity. She met his eyes for a brief second, holding his gaze, letting him feel the subtle pull of her presence.
"You did well today," he said softly.
"Thanks," she replied, not flustered, just confident. "Tomorrow will be interesting."
He gave a small nod. "It always is with you around."
And with that, he moved on, leaving Brinley with a sense of accomplishment, and the faint, thrilling awareness that she'd made him notice, again.