The crowd, which had given him a rowdy welcome, goes quiet as he continues, and we are all engrossed. He makes people laugh and sigh. He ends with, "The past is fixed. You can't edit it. But you're here, which means you're still in the draft. And this, right here, right now, day one, is the best chapter you've started so far." He begins to walk off stage, then stops and turns back. "Watch me leave, ladies!"
And he’s a show pony, too…
I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holdingand fight back a wide grin. I know standing here this morning is not the best chapter I've ever started—I know that one—but maybe it’s the second best?
I realise I was staring pretty hard, so I check the crowd. People are exhaling, shifting their weight, girls whispering to each other with flushed cheeks.Good.It wasn’t just amething.
Konnor Slater.
Pembie claps so hard I swear she’ll bruise her palms. She moves towards him, ducking through the crowd, claiming her position with a squeal, and I watch Konnor envelop her in his arms. They look like a matching set, both beautiful and confident.
“Don’t fall for his bullshit,” Erik says, eyeing me. “That guy has serious problems.”
“He was really good, though!”
Erik glances at the stage. Then back at me. “Yeah, he knows it, too. He’s full of himself.”
I smirk. “Like you can talk, Mr Centre Stage.”
“God”—he points both thumbs at his chest—“remember?” He laughs, his attention drifting to an attractive girl sitting on the grass.
He winks at her.
Relief floods me because— Well, I hope he has a girlfriend. Someone to make him feel needed and adored. I look at my hemline again, muttering, “I could never stand up there and do that.”
“Yousingin public, Blesk.”
“That’s different.” I lift my eyes to him. “I don’t look up. I don’t talk to people. I pretend no one else is even there.”
Atriumphant grinspreads across his face. “And on that topic.” He produces a slip of paper from his back pocket. “I got you a job.”
My jaw drops.
I read the note.
Grill Bar O Campus, Tuesdays & Fridays, 7:00 p.m. Marcus Donnelly 0407789659.
I blink. “Waitressing?”
“A gig. And before you say anything, it’s just two nights a week. I know you’re anin-bedroom-enthusiast,and I appreciate that about you, but I’m there every Tuesday and Friday, and I want you there. Marcus listened to ‘Hero Boy’ on my phone and loved it.”
Not that song, Erik.
“I don’t want to play here. I’ll see these people every day.” I can usually lose myself in the music enough to forget about the audience. Here, I will see my audience in class, at the coffee shop, in my dorm, everywhere—oh God.
My breathing quickens.
The blood drains from my face.
“Pretend it’s just me.” Erik cups my cheeks, tilting my face to look at him. “Just me, sitting in your room, listening to you play, like when we were young.”
Jaxon appears beside me, and I almost jump. “Woah, you’ve lost all colour in your face,” he says to me.
Erik drops his hands.
“I’ll be fine,” I lie, my stomach twisting. “Seriously, I’m fine.”
I whirl around to face the stage and trip on my own feet. Erik catches my elbow without looking. Half of me wants to lean into his steadying grip; the other half wants to wrench away and prove I don’t need it. And I decide on neither.