I roll my eyes, but my fingers tighten around my glass.
It’s easy to dismiss their teasing.Easy to shake my head and act like it’s ridiculous.
But Lily’s still watching me.Still waiting.
I look away, take a long sip of my drink, but it doesn’t do anything to steady me.
Why does she have to bring this up?
I used to love singing.I used to love the way music made me feel—like I was something more than just a girl with a sharp mouth and a brain full of code.
But that wasbefore.Before it all went to hell.
I don’t do music anymore.
And yet?—
My fingers almost brush the edge of the songbook.Just to flip through it.Just to see.
“Come on, Anna,” Quinn coaxes.“What’s the worst that could happen?You suck and we laugh at you?That’s, like, ninety percent of karaoke anyway.”
Vivian smirks.“For what it’s worth, I don’t think she’ll suck.”
“Of course I wouldn’t suck,” I huff.“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”Lily asks, and the softness in her voice unsettles me more than all the teasing.
I don’t answer.I can’t.
Because I don’t actually know.
My pulse picks up as I grab the book from Quinn and scan it.Just one song.Just to prove it means nothing to me anymore.
Something easy.Something light.Something so ridiculous that it won’t mean a damn thing when I sing it.
MaybeCall Me Maybe.OrParty in the USA.Something fun.Stupid.
My fingers tighten on the corner of the page.
Maybe I could?—
The mic crackles.
The emcee’s voice cuts through the speakers.“While all you karaoke lovers out there pick your next victim—er, I mean your next song, we’ve got a special treat.Johnny Rivers is up next with an original track.”
I glance toward the stage, expecting another butchered country ballad from someone in a cowboy hat.But then the spotlight hits him.
And of course, it’s fucking not.
It’sJoel.
He strides onto the stage like he belongs there, a microphone in one hand and his guitar slung over his shoulder.The room buzzes with scattered applause and murmurs of approval.My stomach plummets and I snap the book shut.
“What the hell is he doing here?”I hiss, leaning toward Lily, who has conveniently chosen this moment to sip her drink.
Her serene expression doesn’t waver.“It’s karaoke night.He’s allowed to sing.”
“He’s not allowed toexist,” I mutter, sinking back into the booth and gripping the edge of the table so hard my knuckles ache.