That afternoon, I stand at the back of the auditorium, out of sight, and watch the first half dozen performers. I’m the only one here, which is why I’m lingering by the backdoors.
Also, I can make a quick escape if I needto.
“What are you doing here? I thought you wereperforming.”
Pen’s incredulous voice has me sagging against the wall. She folds me in a hug while Iexplain.
The disbelief and sorrow on her face are everything I’mfeeling.
“A, this was everything youwanted.”
“I thought it was,” I admit. “But I couldn’t stand the thought of him not getting what he wanted when it was my fault. When I could helphim.”
As if he hears my thoughts, Tyler appears on stage. From the distance, I search his face and body for signs he’s lain awake this week as much as I have. I study his broad shoulders, his easy grace as he takes themicrophone.
Tyler scans the audience as if he’s looking for someone. My chest contractsmore.
I’m here. I’ve gotyou.
When he plays, his fingers rest heavier than usual on the strings. Each chord reverberates through my soul. But when his low voice joins overtop, my heart stopsaltogether.
In that moment, I realize a truth, one I hate as much as Ilove…
Tyler’s not broken. He’sbeautiful.
There’s a crackling in the audience, a kinetic energy. Emotions chase each other through my chest. My fingers find the rose under the neckline of my shirt, and I squeeze it hard enough the edge bites into mypalm.
My prince is playing our song, and from the first words, it’s not our song anymore—it’shis.
From the first chorus, he’s not mineanymore.
He’stheirs.
I don’t know if I envy him or the audience. Both, I think, everyone part of that experience I’m suddenly outsideof.
Tears sting the backs of myeyes.
Something bumps my hip, and I glance over to see my friend. “Let’s get out of here for the weekend,” Pen murmurs. “You andme.”
My chest thaws a few degrees. “I love you. But given my dad put a stop on next semester’s tuition, that’s probably not the bestidea.”
“Pssh. I went to Columbia like my parents wanted. I’m flush. You pick a place, anywhere you want.” She gives me another squeeze. “Think about it. I have to gopee.”
I show her to the bathroom up one level, which is quiet even duringperformances.
Everyone’s at the showcase, and the only sound up here comes from the open door of a rehearsalroom.
My feet carry me there, and I leanin.
“Why aren’t you at the showcase?” I askFinn.
He glances up from the piano. “Why aren’tyouat the showcase? Figured Jax Jamieson mightcome.”
I step into the room and lean my elbows on the ebony wood. “So, youheard.”
Finn lets out a low chuckle. “I don’t care what your name is. I’m thinking about the three shows I’m doing in LA in the next week. I need to get out of New York. It’s too cold, the weather and thepeople.”
“Hey, Finn,” I say, feeling impulsive, and he cocks his head. “You made me an offer the night I sang with you to get me tickets to your shows inLA.”