Finnley hesitated, then said quietly, “You.”
I laughed, the sound brittle. “That’s not an answer.”
“It is,” he insisted. “It wasn’t… sexual. It was…” He frowned, clearly searching for words. “It was intimate. Exposed. As if?—”
“As if someone trusted the artist completely,” Oliver finished.
I closed my eyes for half a second.
That’s exactly what scares me.
Julian’s voice was softer now, the teasing edge gone. “You look vulnerable in it. Strong. It’s kind of terrifying, honestly.”
I opened my eyes. “Terrifying.”
“In a good way,” Julian added. “Like—this is the guy who stands in front of us twice a week and tells us to be braver.”
What filled me was the tiniest hint of pride.
I rubbed my hand over the back of my neck. “Cameron told me it was accepted. He didn’t say they’d post previews.”
“They post previews every year, apparently,” Max said in a gentle tone.
I winced. “I should have known.” Then I frowned. “But he only took it into college this morning. How didyouknow to search for it?”
“I didn’t. But one of the guys at the club goes to the same art college Cameron mentioned, and he was talking last night about the piecehe’dsubmitted.” Max grinned. “Except he wasn’t talking—he was bragging, so I went looking.”
“And found Cameron,” I concluded.
Finnley coughed. “For what it’s worth… if that’s what trusting someone looks like, I kind of get why you’ve been so intense lately.” I stared at him, and he met my gaze. “It takes guts to let yourself be seen like that.”
I let out a slow breath. “Okay,” I said at last. “We’re not doing this all rehearsal.”
Julian groaned. “Buzzkill.”
I lifted my chin. “Warm up. We’ve got work to do.”
We got started, but it soon became obvious that the energy in the room was different now. It was charged, filled with curiosity and maybe just a little respect.
Max caught my eye as I turned towards the mixing desk.
You okay?he mouthed.
I nodded. I wasn’t, of course, but for the first time, the fear wasn’t about being exposed, but about how much it meant to be seen—and not rejected.
Somewhere deep in my chest, beneath the nerves and the control and the panic, something steadied. Because whatever happened next, I knew one thing for certain.
I didn’t regret trusting Cameron.
What Ididregret was not being given a warning that my naked body was about to be all over the Internet.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Cameron
Raquel wasn’t even halfwaythrough her story about a disastrous first date involving a trombone player and I was already snorting coffee out of my nose.
“Please, stop,” I begged. My sides ached.