“If you haven’t gone, you get put ahead of all the returning singers. There's no one else signed up who hasn’t already gone tonight, so that puts you next. Why? Scared?” He leans in over the table, giving me another grin.
I scoff. “Scared? Hardly. I’ll stay right here.”
The DJ laughs, turning back to his computer—most likely to queue up my song. And all too quickly, the man on stage is coming down, the whole room clapping and laughing. He’s drunk and flushed, patting my shoulder as he finds his friends again.
What was that? Is he bidding me a farewell as I head off to the guillotine?
The DJ holds out a mic. “You’re up, sugar.”
I take a deep breath and accept it.
On stage, the first thing I notice is the lights.
It’s a small, run-down bar, but they did not spare any expense when it came to their stage lights, apparently. I can barely see at first.
As my eyes adjust, I immediately search for Rowan in the crowd. I find him after a moment, and he’s taking a sip from the beer he bought when we first got here. Grinning at me.
Great—I’m going to embarrass myself in front of him on our first date. I should have told him no!
I’ve never sung in front of an audience before. I’ve never really sung outside of my shower. I have no clue if I’m absolutely horrible or decent at best.
The crowd is staring—an awkward hush falling over them. I turn my gaze to the DJ and realize I’m supposed to queue him when I’m ready.
“Oh. Sorry. I’m ready,” I rush out. A few scattered laughs spread across the bar, and I can feel my cheeks heat up. I’m glad I lost my jacket a bit ago—these stage lights arekilling me.
The beginning of “Hate Me” by Blue October plays around me, and I take an unsteady breath as the beginning dialogue plays through the speakers.
I’m watching my sneakers as the beat picks up, and when I finally begin to sing, I feel as if the floor has fallen out from under me.
This is so fucking embarrassing. Why did I pick this song?
Oh, it was the first one I recognized. And I love it, truthfully. But it’s too honest, isn’t it? And it's sad. I’m bringing down the entire vibe of this bar right now.
But as I begin the first chorus and cheers break out all over the room, my confidence soars.
I don’t care if it’s pity or drunk encouragement—the liquor in my veins and the thrill of the attention are spurring me on now.
I’m having fun. I’m genuinely, honestly having fun.
My eyes find Rowan, and he’s watching me with such an intensity that I almost trip over my words. He’s eating me up; Rowan is plotting all of the different ways he can devour me in one sitting as I stand on this stage.
And as I break out into the bridge—arguably the best part of the song—something thick and hot fills my throat and chest.
I’m not sure what this intense emotion is, but it feels a lot like happiness if happiness is meant to hurt.
The song comes to a close as cheers and applause go up around the room. I bow—awkward as shit—and walk off the stage, handing the mic back to the DJ.
“That was incredible, sugar,” he compliments.
“Thanks,” is all I say before turning on my heel to walk away.
I have no time to speak with the DJ—not when Rowan is waiting at our table like a hungry lion.
And as I make my way through the crowd, I can’t help but feel like I’m crawling right into his den, unarmed and unprotected.
How sweet.
Chapter Fifteen
