Incident Report– 1986: Arrested for trespassing and public indecency after a frat prank. Charges dropped. File sealed.
I stare at the words too long. Andrew Hudson, butt-naked for school spirit. I almost laugh, imagining him streaking across campus. But the laughter dies quickly. People like Andrew Hudson always have their dirt polished. He might be guilty of nothing more than streaking, but my gut still says he’s someone I need to talk to.
COLE
“Has it always smelled like the inside of a fryer here?” I whine to Caspian who flops down beside me with two beers and a bowl of… something. Possibly olives. Possibly nuts with fur. Mickey’s is a roulette wheel for food safety.
Caspian grins. “Come on, it’s karaoke night. Steve’s about to unleash his trademark howl and Earl’s going to think he’ll drop dead from the noise.”
“Yes, and I was about to enjoy a quiet night in,” I point out. “There’s a reason Noah has sleepovers at my parents’, and the reason is not Steve Pell violating the rules of music.”
“You spend an unhealthy amount of time on your couch,” Caspian claims. “It’s not Netflix and chill anymore, it’s Netflix as an excuse not to leave the house.”
“Exactly.”
Steve taps the mic, cutting off our bickering. “Are you ready to pray for your lives? ‘Cause I’m kicking things off withLivin’ on a Prayer.”He squints at the teleprompter. “OrLivin’ on a Pear.Left my glasses at home. They mess up my street cred.”
“Sure, ‘cos without the glasses you’re a regular goodfella,” Mickey mutters, pouring a whisky to himself.
I groan as Steve barrels into the Bon Jovi classic, loud enough to make the speakers hiss in self-defense.
The screen flashes the lyrics, but Steve’s already given up on them. Instead, he’s just goofing around:“Tommy used to work on the clocks, his onion’s on strike, he’s down on one duck…”
Caspian leans over. “I think I lost hearing in my left ear.”
“Just your left?”
“It doesn’t make a difference if we bake it or not,”Steve roars. Then he stops mid-verse. “Are they baking the onion or the pear?”
His wife, Gertrud, is crying. Whether it’s from pride, shame, or auditory trauma, I can’t tell.
The final note is so sharp Earl clutches his chest like the sound physically pierced him. “Oh Lord,” he gasps. “That’s it. My ticker’s done. My time has come.”
“Not until you’ve paid your tab!” Mickey yells from behind the bar. Steve staggers offstage, panting but beaming. “I think I nailed it!”
Without any warning, Caspian nudges me. “You’re on.”
I blink. “I didn’t — no. What did you do?”
“Signed you up.”
“For what song?”
“For something hot.” He smirks, just as Mickey pours another whisky and puts it in front of me. “Here, have some Dutch courage, it’s on the house.”
I scowl at Caspian, taking the mic from Steve just as the first notes ofSex on Firefloat through the room.
My stomach drops. Not a goofy singalong song. Not safe. Not something I’d ever choose myself.
“You can do it,” Caspian says, looking so earnest I decide to believe him.
I knock back the whisky — also something I’d never choose myself — and go on the stage.
By the time I hit the chorus, the bar is silent. It’s like the whole room suddenly remembers what this song is about. My voice doesn’t evensound like mine anymore. It’s raw, scraped, alive. I’m never shy on the stage. But this time, it’s almost like I’m on fire too.
My gaze drifts toward the back, and my knees almost buckle. He’s there.Xaden.The sight slams into me harder than whisky ever could. He’s looking at me like he did that summer at Caspian’s barn party — like I was the only thing worth seeing.
Even across the room I can see the heat in his eyes.
