“You are a rockstar, Vincent Cooper. Every time you touch an instrument, the world stops. You see this stage? This stage’s your dream. Don’t ever let anyone steal it from you—this is your time to shine.”
He opens his eyes, meeting mine. “Nova...”
“I’ll be right there under the stage, cheering for you. I promise. This is your moment. Yours only. So grab that guitar, step up, andlet’s make some noise.”
He chuckles, raising a brow. “Let’s make some noise?”
“Yeah. You should say it on stage—right before you make rock history.”
“Technically we’re already onstage,” Tanner pipes up.
“Go back to your drumsticks, Tan,” Aurora snaps.
Vincent, Max, and I whip our heads toward her. She blushes, eyes snapping back down to her Sophie Kinsella novel. “What?” she asks.
Vincent and I exchange a smile, sparing her further embarrassment. Max, though, can’t stop staring at her.
I refocus on Vincent. “So?”
“You’re not gonna let me get out of this, are you?”
Laughing, I loop my arms around his neck, rising on tiptoe to hide my face against him. “Not a chance. Go get your guitar, Cooper.”
-*?? . ??? ? ?.-*??
The crowd’s electric, singing and dancing in unison. The guys are glowing, and I think everyone can feel it. Playing without Tom has brought out something new in them—something brighter. Miles and Tanner are giving everything they’ve got, and Max almost sounds like a pro. It’s wild to think he’s only sixteen.
And then there’s him: Vincent Cooper.
His voice’s extraordinary, raw and magnetic. His fingers glide across the guitar strings with such ease it’s as if he was born to play. When he’s up there, it’s like watching all the legends of rock rolled into one moment.
They’re on the fifth song of the setlist now, and each one has been better than the last. This time, it’sWet Sand, and Vincent’s solo is coming.
I know he’s terrified of messing up. But the second he closes his eyes and locks in with his instrument, everything else fades away. I see it—the grin tugging at his lips, the spark in his eyes when he looks up and gives me a small nod. My chest aches when he winks at me.
Max joins him, and suddenly they’re playing face-to-face, perfectly in sync, like one soul split between two guitars.
The energy shifts—higher, wilder—the audience screaming louder. Then the two of them lean into the same mic, their voices colliding as the roar of the crowd nearly swallows them whole.
Aurora catches my eye, smiling knowingly. She insisted on being the one to film the concert because I’ve been too wound up to stay still. She was right—I haven’t stopped moving since the first note.
I’ve been dancing, singing, clapping for the past half hour, and my voice is already hoarse.
The boys saved us a spot in the front row, right to the side of the stage where we can see everything. I can see him.
I can’t look away from Vincent. From the way he plays, to the way he sings, to how he runs his hand through the curls stuck to his forehead. The gym lights make his freckles glow, and the denim jacket he’s wearing just makes him look even better. Taller, broader, older, hotter than ever.
Every time his eyes find me, every time that sweet smile appears—the smile that belongs only to me—my heart flips over.
When our gazes lock, his voice drops low, softer, deeper, as he whispers the last words of the song. It feels like he’s pulling my heart straight out of my chest just to keep it safe in his hands.
I just... I turn to Aurora, panicked and she lifts a brow, waiting for me to say something. “I think I’m in love with him,” I whisper. “Madly. My heart hurts. This is so stupid, I know. He’s my best friend and here I am just blurting it out like—”
Aurora giggles, cutting me off. “Six years, Nova. It only took you six years to figure it out. I knew the second he carried your books when your backpack broke. Or better, when you threatened Alex Meyer with earthworms for cutting his guitar strings on April Fool’s.”
I frown. “Ishouldhave done that! Joke or not, he had no right to ruin Vincent’s guitar like that.”
Aurora smirks. “See? You’re hopelessly in love.”
