The Right Song Page 11

  “That’s awesome. However, I sense there’s a but coming?”

  “You and I have both heard stories about so-called “talent agents.” It could be a fluke.”

  She chews on the inside of her mouth. “Okay, I see your point. At least check him out, though. If he seems fishy then we’ll run for it. If not, we’ll see how it goes. You never know.”

  “Hmm, I guess I have to discuss it with Aunt Leah. I wonder how she’ll react to this.”

  Emma gets up and ambles over to her bed, sitting on the edge. “You need to talk to Alex, too. He seems angrier than normal. Chris said he was snapping at him for no reason when he called him earlier.”

  “Yeah, he’s mad at me because Daegan got me to perform at the Heat Room and not him. Honestly, I feel like everything is going to make Alex upset. He’s in love with me and he can’t have me. I don’t know how to get us to not be so awkward around each other.”

  I rise from the bench and flop down on the bed, resting my head on her pillow. Emma crawls up beside me.

  “I’m sorry it’s such a mess between you two, but what part does Daegan Stone play in this? How did he manage to get you on stage in front of a live audience and actually sing?”

  She watches me out of the corner of her eye, observing my face.

  I toy around with the loops of my jeans. “It was the right time, I guess. It doesn’t really have anything to do with him.”

  “You sure?” she prods, sensing there’s more.

  “Em,” I scoff. “What are you implying?”

  She pushes up and springs from the bed. “Nothing at all, I’m only curious.”

  Walking over to her dresser, she pulls out a pink top and a pair of distressed jeans. Then she takes off her oversize shirt and changes into them. “I’ll swing by Drew’s with you since you guys are going to practice. I need him to talk to me.”

  “Is everything okay with you two?” I ask.

  She falls quiet as she brushes out her hair. After a moment she says, “I think he wants to break-up with me but doesn’t know how, or maybe he’s worried about hurting me.”

  “Oh, Ems. Is it that bad? I thought you guys were fine.”

  She waves me off. “Don’t worry about it.” Then she changes the topic. “I guess practice is like warm up for you now, huh?”

  I want to talk more about Drew but Emma is so much like me. She’ll brush things off and move on to something else to cover how she really feels.

  “Yeah, well, we still have to prepare for the festival next week,” I say, accepting defeat.

  As if a light bulb went off in her head, Emma stops brushing her hair, twirls around, and stares at me with a broad grin and expanded eyes. “You should totally sing at the festival after Days End finishes its set.”

  “Um, I don’t know. I kind of wanted it to be about the band on that day, since it’s our last performance together.”

  She walks up to the bed, jerking my arm lightly as I sit up. “I’m sure the guys won’t mind. They loved your show last night, Law. You know they’ll support you.”

  I slide to the edge of the bed and stand up. “I’ll talk to them about it, I guess.”

  “There she is!” Chris shouts as I meander down into the basement at Drew’s house where all three guys are hanging out.

  “Come here!” He picks me up off my feet, spinning me around in midair before he settles me down again.

  “See, I knew you didn’t sound like a frog,” Drew laughs.

  Emma plops down in the armchair next to him on the couch—instead of in his lap. He appears a little tense with her. I ponder her words again. Maybe she’s right. Maybe he wants to end their relationship.

  “Hey,” she says.

  “Hey,” he replies evenly.

  Looking back at me, he says, “Alex’s been telling us about your hidden talent, but damn, Rora, you’re way better than he described.”

  “Thank you guys,” I gush, flicking from him to Chris. I glance behind at Alex. He has his back turned to us, writing something on the table in the corner.

  “So when’s the next show?” Chris asks me. “Cause we’re definitely going.”

  “Damn straight,” Drew pipes in. “Don’t even think about pulling off something like that again. We’re like family.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. It wasn’t planned.”

  “Yeah guys,” Alex snorts, peering back at us. “You can thank Daegan Stone for that.”

  The room tenses. The way he said Daegan’s name bothers me.

  Chris flashes me a confused look. “I don’t get it.”

  “He was—” I start to explain.

  “Daegan convinced her to perform at the Heat Room,” Alex cuts me off, his tone biting.

  “Um,” Chris scratches his head, studying me. “Okay…” he nods slowly.

  I shrug, unsure of what’s running through his head or what he wants me to say.

  “Ahem,” Drew breaks in, standing up. “Are we going to practice or what? I’m not sure I’m good on the new songs yet.”

  Rising from the couch, Chris walks over to the drums. Drew picks up the bass and warms up.

  I look over at Emma, settling on the loveseat across from me. She forces a smile. I push off the couch and snatch up my guitar. I don’t meet Alex’s eyes as he strolls over to the microphone.

  And so we practice in this thick, suffocating air. By the time we finish, I cannot wait to take off and go get ready for my date with Milo tonight—if it’s even a date.

  Emma stays behind to talk to Drew while Chris, Alex, and I head out. Alex doesn’t say a word to me before he hops in his car and drives off.

  Chris and I talk a bit on the porch.

  “You sound really good, Rora,” he praises, leaning against one of the columns. “I feel like a proud brother.”

  I sink down on the porch steps, linking my hands. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

  He eases off the column and sits down beside me. “I don’t understand why you’ve been hiding your voice all this time. What’s the deal with that?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, almost inaudible. “I guess I’ve been scared.”

  He bumps my arm. “Scared of what? Tell me the rest of the story.”

  I swallow hard. “It’s too long.”

  A gush of air escapes him before he stands, hauling me to my feet. “Yeah, I know there are things you don’t tell us even though we’ve been friends for so long.”

  I turn away from his gaze, knowing he’s right about that.

  Chris taps my back and motions to leave. “It’s okay. We all have our secrets.” He doesn’t utter anything else, simply flashes me his cocky grin and strides down the gravel entrance towards his car.

  He pulls out shortly after.

  Considering his words, I peer back at the house, wondering if what he said about having secrets has anything to do with Drew and Emma.

  17.

  Milo looks over at me with every spurt of laughter. We’re watching an action comedy that I’m really enjoying. I wonder if he’s thinking about my performance from the Heat Room, like some of the people who did a double take when they glimpsed me coming into the theatre.

  When the movie wraps, we leave his car outside of Caribou Coffee and go for a stroll around town; coming to a stop at the concrete railing overlooking Hubbard Creek that streams under the small road bridge.

  The tall trees on both sides are starting to sprout new leaves again—after a long Midwest winter that seemed like the coldest one ever—but not enough so that we can’t peer down at the dark creek.

  It’s a cool, peaceful night with nothing but the sound of slow running water, cars driving by now and then, and the loud hammering of my heart as I stand next to Milo. I think it has a lot to do with him giving me these odd glances, as if he’s waiting for something.

  Finally, I come out and ask, “What’s up?”

  He grins broadly. “You’re really not going to bring it up?”

  “Oh, you’ve seen
the new video?”

  Crossing his arms, he appears amazed. “So what was that about you being afraid of singing in public and that you sounded horrible, huh?” He nudges my arm. “You give new meaning to the word modest, I tell you.”

  I smile up at him. “I take it you’re impressed.”

  “More than impressed,” he enthuses. “In fact, there are no words to describe how blown away I am by that performance. Aurora, you’re one talented girl.”

  I lower my head to hide my flushed cheeks. Milo reaches over suddenly. His touch makes me shudder.

  He sweeps my hair off my shoulder, penetrating me with his eyes when I manage the strength to look up at him again.

  Softly, he says, “It’s nicer down. It’s almost as if you were hiding behind your ponytail, too.”

  I can’t help but giggle. “Not really, just couldn’t bother to change it up.”

  He chortles. “Ah, I see. But I thought girls were good with stuff like that?”

  I point to my face. “Not this one.”

  Milo lingers his gaze on me for a fraction of a second, but long enough to send my heart on a marathon.

  “How come you were so apprehensive about singing live, though? You’re undoubtedly good.”

  “Humph, I was worried no one would think I was good enough.”

  “But you are,” he encourages, leaning against the concrete railing. “You were always saying stuff like that when we were kids. ‘Oh no, I didn’t make this right,’” he mimics my voice, “or ‘that doesn’t look as good as the others.’”

  I jerk his arm for mocking me, only to end up shy again after feeling his muscular arm. Milo’s definitely fit. I wonder how he looks without a shirt.

  “So am I invited to your next live?” he asks.

  I catch my breath to answer. “Sure. I’ll let you know beforehand.”

  His lips coil into the sexy grin I can’t get over. “Awesome.”

  Straightening, Milo motions for us to start back to his car. He rests his hand at the small of my back, sending chills all over my body. I don’t know if he’s doing this on purpose because he enjoys seeing me shiver, but it’s certainly working.

  I stay quiet for most of the drive to my house, stealing glances every so often at him. Milo keeps his eye on the road the entire time, a satisfied grin at the corner of his mouth.

  Slowing down outside my house, he turns the car off and collapses against the headrest, looking over at me. “I had a nice evening, again.”

  “Me too.”

  I unbuckle my seatbelt. Milo hops out and comes around to meet me as I slide out of the car. He walks me to my front door.

  “Oh, I should tell you I’m not going to be able to hang out much next week, with soccer games and a couple tests coming up, but definitely next weekend,” he informs as I reach the door.

  “Okay, well, I’ll let you know if I do end up performing again.”

  He smiles. “You should. I’d love to hear you live.” His voice comes out flirty.

  “I’ll consider that,” I tell him, playing coy. “Well, see you.”

  I turn to open the door when he reaches for my elbow, stopping me.

  When I turn around, he shakes his head as if he’s changed his mind, saying instead, “Night, Rora.”

  “Good night,” I reply, disappointed.

  I walk inside and peek through the window, watching him leave.

  As Milo drives off, I swivel to head upstairs, diverting when I spot Aunt Leah in the kitchen having a bowl of salad.

  “Hey, how was the movie?” she asks as I walk into the kitchen.

  “It was good.” I lean against the island and stare at her for a while, gathering my thoughts.

  She puts her fork down and regards me with a questioning look. “What’s up?”

  “I wanted to tell you,” I start, sitting down on the stool beside her.

  “Is it about that Heat Room?” she surprises me.

  My brows shoot up. “You’ve seen it too?”

  She smiles halfway and squeezes my arm. “A few of the other nurses were going on about the video. I was waiting for you to tell me. Rora, you never shared your gift of singing with me, how come? It’s always been about writing songs and playing the guitar.”

  I sigh. “I’m sorry. I was too afraid,” I explain as her eyes turn sad. “I wasn’t confident enough in my voice and I thought people would judge me.”

  Aunt Leah shifts on the stool and cups my face in her hands. “Honey, people are going to judge you no matter what you do. You just have to do your best, always remember that.”

  She kisses me on the forehead.

  “There’s something else,” I go on. “Luke at the Heat Room mentioned that an A&R guy will be stopping by next Friday. Luke says I should perform again because he thinks I have a shot at impressing the guy.”

  There’s a cautious expression masking her face. Aunt Leah’s reacting the same way I did at first. She’s skeptical about the legitimacy of Luke’s friend.

  “A&R guy, huh?” she utters, playing with the fork as she stares at her salad.

  “What do you think?” I ask, wanting her thoughts on it.

  She looks over at me. “Well, it can be both good and bad. What if this guy isn’t for real? And who’s this Luke, anyway? What does he get out of it?”

  “He’s the MC. I don’t know? More customers if I blow up?” I joke.

  Aunt Leah has a hard time stifling her laugh. A stern look resurfaces as she says, “If you decide to go back, then I’m going with you to check out this so-called A&R guy and make sure he’s the real deal, understood?”

  I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.”

  I ease off the stool to head up to my room and let her finish eating. She calls out to me before I turn up the stairs.

  “I’m very proud of you,” she says with a warm smile as I glance back at her.

  “Thanks, Aunt Leah. That means a lot to me.”

  “Your parents would be proud, too. I know that for certain.”

  My heart gets a rush. The feeling doesn’t bring on a surge of pain like it used to. This time, I smile from the inside out as their faces flash before my eyes. It’s the first time where memories of them don’t hurt.

  It’s a good start.

  18.

  The following days past by uneventful, except for a few people who wave at me in school, they’re apparently still hyped up about my performance at the Heat Room. I have band practice here and there, too, but nothing noteworthy has happened otherwise. Milo’s busy with soccer, so I barely get to hang out with him, and I haven’t seen Daegan in school since last week when he influenced me into a possible life-changing event.

  On Thursday, I decide to swing by his house after school and bring him the Econ homework. Friends do that, right?

  Pulling up outside his house, I check the driveway for his Chevy. It’s the only one parked there and I feel a slight knot form in my stomach. Do I really want to show up at his house when he’s home alone?

  Why is that an issue, anyway?

  I shut off the engine and climb out of the car, grabbing the notes I took for him off the front seat. I walk up to the eerie looking house and knock twice on the blue door.

  Daegan answers. He blinks owlishly at me, as if he’s just woken up. Dressed in a white t-shirt and black jeans, he stands barefoot in the doorway eyeing me from head to toe. His overall demeanor appears darker than the norm.

  “Hey,” I wave.

  “Aurora, what are you doing here?” he asks, sounding both surprised and thrilled.

  I hand him the notes. “Here’s your homework for Econ.”

  He reaches for the papers, seemingly grateful. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

  “It’s the least I could do after what you did for me.”

  Daegan steps aside and opens the door wider. “Come in.”

  I hesitate a moment. We are going to be alone. The thought sends a wintry sensation at the nape of my neck.


  “Okay,” I say, entering the foyer. I peer around, taking in the interior. There’s cream wallpaper running from the foyer down the passage beside the stairs with dark wooden panels aligning the way. I wince a bit as the hardwood creaks with my step.

  The house is antique-looking, but it’s nice and homey. Such a different vibe from what I get on the outside.

  “Lovely home,” I tell him.

  He shrugs, skimming through the papers.

  I ask, “How come you weren’t in school? Are you sick?”

  “In a way.” Glancing up at me, Daegan swallows hard then motions for the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”

  “Water please.”

  We step into the kitchen and I sit at the island as he gets two bottles of water out of the fridge. He passes one to me and leans against the counter, drinking his.

  I fidget with the cap after taking a sip, wanting to say something but unable to find the right words.

  “It’s my birthday,” he says, watching me with his mysterious brown eyes.

  “Oh, cool, happy birthday,” I reply with a smile. “If I’d known, I would have gotten you something.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’d like to spend it with a friend, though. Do you mind spending it with me, or is that too weird?”

  He seems so sad. I can’t help wanting to cheer him up. “Yeah, of course,” I say. That relaxes his face.

  “I could make you a cake,” I enthuse. “Would you like that?”

  He grins in his amazement. “Really? You can bake?”

  “Well, don’t sound so surprised. I’ll have you know I’m like a real life Betty Crocker.”

  Daegan stifles a laugh. “Is that so?” He pushes off the counter and ambles around the island, sitting down beside me. “Go for it then,” he gestures. “Let’s see how good you are.”

  Feeling challenged, I hop off the stool and saunter over to the cupboards. I do find a few ingredients, so I’m good to go. Guess he’ll have to accept a plain vanilla birthday cake.

  He watches me in this enthralled manner, his gorgeous eyes missing nothing. I pull two plastic bowls from the lower cupboards and gather the necessities. I’ll show him there’s more to me than music and lyrics.