The intro rolls again. The crowd hums the melody, thousands of voices guiding me back until I can find my own. I start to sing, soft at first, then stronger. I walk the long catwalk we built for this moment, the one that earlier belonged to a parade of drag queens in gowns and glitter, now a runway of light and raw emotion.
Halfway down, a single white spotlight locks on me. My voice carries over the stadium, ragged but sure.
Someone yells something from the front rows. I don’t catch the words, but then there’s a sudden ripple through the audience. A gasp, then a roar that’s different from the usual reaction this stripped-down version ofRemember My Nametypically gets.
The hair on the back of my neck lifts.
THIRTY-SIX
LUC
The locker room is buzzing with adrenaline. Coach is pacing, drawing lines on a whiteboard, but I can’t hear a word of the halftime strategy talk.
Out there, Jesse is singing and I can’t stand to miss it. Even if I can just hear one song.
I slip away without much notice. Anyone who does notice doesn’t try to stop me. I duck through the tunnel until the music fills my ears and veins and heart.
A security guard spots me and hustles over. “Are you Luc?”
“Yeah.”
He hesitates, then says, “Cory sent me a message from Naz. They’re leaving immediately after the last song.”
My stomach twists. Shit. He was supposed to stay and talk to me after the game. Naz and Mr. Holland were going to make sure he didn’t leave. I was feeling so hopeful after getting a text from him this morning, but I didn’t get to respond because we weregetting off the team bus at the stadium, and it’s been too busy since then to even attempt to check my phone again.
What if he thought I was ignoring him?
Then I hear it. Jesse’s voice cracking on the first line of their closing song. Our song.Mysong. The one that changed my life before I even knew his name. It’s raw and breaking and beautiful, and it cuts straight through me.
Something AJ said the other day slams into my chest.
A grand gesture.
My heart lurches hard enough to hurt.
I snap my head towards the guard. “I need your help.”
He doesn’t question it. He just turns and starts running with me, keeping up surprisingly well considering I’m a professional athlete on a mission. He clears a path through dancers and tech crew, jumping over tangles of cable.
When I reach the base of the stage, Cory is there, grinning like he’s been waiting for me all night. “Welcome back, Mr. Martín,” he says, and offers a hand. I grab it and haul myself up.
The lights are blinding, music vibrating through my ribs. Naz catches sight of me first, eyes going wide, the steady heartbeat he’s playing on the drums getting louder like an announcement. Will and Ari both reach out as I pass, giving quick slaps on the shoulder, and nods that say,go.
Jesse is out on the catwalk, a lone silhouette under the white spotlight, voice shaking but carrying through the roar. He doesn’t see me yet. Not until the crowd goes from pointing andgasping to screaming, a new wave of sound that makes him glance back.
His vivid green eyes find mine.
For a heartbeat he falters, barely a hitch in the chorus, but he doesn’t stop singing. Step by step he starts back towards the main stage, towards me. I move to meet him.
The lights blaze, the band behind us pushing the final chords higher. We stop inches apart, center stage, the world roaring around us.
The last note hangs in the air, echoing across the stadium.
Remember my name
(I wish I’d stayed)
Remember my name
