“It will give my nightmares, nightmares.” I kept mine in place as well and flicked on the intercom. “You can say that again. We’ll have the files ready for you to listen to the playback, if you’d like.”
She joined us on our side of the glass, and I locked my arms across my chest so I didn’t smack my hands over my face from the second Spencer hit the playback button. After a hundred selfie videos listening to the tracks until my ears felt like they’d bleed, our duty was done and our client left.
At least she seemed happy about how it had all turned out. I’d kill for ten percent of her confidence when it came to singing.
“You’re ready to give all this up to go be an accountant?” He spun around in his chair—well attempted to, but he banged his knee on the love seat and the console.
“So much glamour, I know.” But I looked around the small closet I’d been tucked inside for almost two years, and I knew I’d miss it. Every single thing about it. I didn’t want to go. Sometimes I felt like digging my heels in and sinking my nails into the saggy, cracked leather couch worn by the asses of hundreds of hopefuls over the decades, until they kicked me out. The life of a session musician could be great, if that was the life you wanted.
I’d had a taste of singing in front of other people, a glimmer before the house of cards had come tumbling down. I couldn’t keep trying to do this and watching other people get to live their dream.
Trying to live both realities would slowly kill me. I could be an accountant or I could sit behind a mixing board seeing person after person walk into the booth. I’d been fine on cruise control, going through the motions, pretending being behind the board would be enough for me. Then Dare had shown up and toppled the balance I’d found in my life by finally showing me I could sing in front of other people.
Him showing up again now was a reminder I hadn’t needed. Now my countdown to reality was on; I could no longer pretend college would go on forever, and I wouldn’t have to make a choice, and maybe, magically, the lock on my vocal chords I’d had since my dad died would dissolve.
It had for a short couple months. I’d been able to sing for him and then in front of the whole school. It had been the greatest feeling, like I was soaring, so close to finally grabbing the brass ring of my dreams. But it had ended in a messy, painful crash that I still hadn’t recovered from. The laughter, whispered and not-so-whispered mockery—sometimes I woke up in a cold sweat, unable to shake the queasiness in my stomach.
When I got back to the dorm, the stairs and entryway were clear. Banners and flags lined the walkway and the hallways. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. It was like being back at Greenwood where football was revered and the players were our deities.
I turned the corner and froze. Outside my door, leaning against the wall and looking like he’d stepped off a movie set, was Dare.
The past four years had added at least thirty pounds of muscle to him. If he’d been carved out of stone before, now he’d been molded into steel. There was a sharper set to his jaw. He’d even picked up another inch or two. It didn’t seem like there had been a stumble in his trip to becoming a pro.
He was living his dream while I was headed to the wonderful world of accounting. Not like it was a terrible thing—my dad had worked as an accountant—but it didn’t light me up like making music did.
There wasn’t anywhere I could hide, and I had an early day tomorrow with Report Day. At least from here on out, he’d be too busy to bother with me. Felicia had told me the guys were in practice most days from seven AM to nine PM.
I walked toward him with purpose. And that purpose wasn’t to look at him or speak to him.
He pushed off the wall and watched me as I approached.
With my key out, I passed him and unlocked my door. The light flicked green and I pushed down the handle.
Before I could walk in, an arm shot out across the open doorway. “Bay. I need to talk to you.”
“And what you need doesn’t matter one bit to me.” I stared straight ahead, only this time it was directly at his arm. It was sinewy, with thick veins stretched over flexed muscles. Lots of time in the gym.
“Can we go somewhere and talk?”
“Sure, tomorrow at ten am.” The team schedule had been handed over so we could have staff on hand as needed through the days they’d be here.
He squeezed the back of his neck. “It’s Report Day tomorrow. We have to get registered then. I can’t make it.”
“Aww, too bad. Looks like you missed your chance.”
“Any other time.”
“Noon.”
His lips tightened and his face fell. “We have a team lunch.”
“Sounds to me like you’re going to be incredibly busy over the next few weeks. Maybe it’s best to focus on that.”
I ducked under his arm and shot into my room, closing the door behind me, careful not to crush his fingers. The last thing I needed was his pro career weighing on my conscience.
Inside the studio apartment, I stared at my closed closet door. There was a guitar behind it. Not the one that had been my most treasured possession—no, that was sitting in pieces in a garbage dump somewhere. I curled up on my bed and held onto the pillow, burying my face in it. I shouldn’t have thrown it away. I should’ve kept it.
My dad had loved it so much. He’d loved watching me play and teaching me new chords and the melodies of his favorite songs. We’d sit together in my room and play for hours until my mom finally came in to get us to eat something. I’d always wanted him to be proud of me, to sit in the front row and watch me perform, and I couldn’t even squeak out a note.
Sleep claimed me early, only this time it wasn’t the usual nightmare. I was singing on a stage, the spotlight bright, but in the wings of the stage a figure stood in the shadows watching me. I couldn’t see their face, but the way their gaze calmed the jitters in my stomach and quelled the urge to rush off stage and bury my head in the closest trashcan, I knew who it was. Why could he still make me feel this way in my dreams?
3
Dare
The truck that had hit me must’ve backed over me a couple times before speeding off. Only it hadn’t been a truck. It was my own doing that had every muscle screaming at me as I rolled over in my bed.
Even from my bedroom, the commotion and activity in the hallway filtered in through the cinderblock walls. Today was Report Day. All the other players from the team would arrive, and it would be time for me to find a new place in the new team and the new life I’d worked for since I put on my first helmet.
The door to the suite opened.
A muffled voice got closer through the closed door. “Fucking hell.”
It was flung open and I was tackled by a blur of a body.
I reacted, punching straight at the ribs, connecting before jerking back to land another punch.
The intruder let go of me and stumbled back from the bed.
“What the fuck, Dare?” Standing over me, Knox Knight stared down at me with a grimace, rubbing his side. His hair was buzzed shorter and he’d grown a couple inches taller, almost the same height as me.
“Knox?” I straightened up, breathing heavy, no longer prepping to fight my way out of my room.