“Unbelievable,” Grace said before I felt her eyes on me.
“He loves this song,” I told her, unable to look away from James. “He’s always, always wanted us to play this song.”
“He loves thesong?” she replied. “Isa, he lovesyou!”
He does,I thought.He really does.
I was teary by the time the song was over. While the bride and groom were absolutely asking themselves who the heck this kid was, they were cheering, and so were their family,friends, and obligatory business-related invites. James smiled and took a humble bow.
“Isa, what are you doing?” Grace asked when I made zero moves toward the stage. “Get up there!”
I felt fear flash in my stomach. “No,” I said, voice wavering on that one word. “I can’t—I can’t go up there, G. It would be inappropriate.”
Grace waved her hand. “Inappropriate-schminappropriate,” she said. “Take a deep breath and climb those stage steps!”
Pulse racing, I looked at Everett. “Isa Cruz does have a track record of kissing the guy first,” he said sagely.
And I remembered; I remembered marching up to his locker and kissing him on the last day of middle school. I remembered how desperately I’d wanted it.
Here and now, I realized wanting to kiss Everett wasnothingcompared to how much I wanted to kiss James. My heartstrings would snap if I waited one more minute.
“Wish me luck,” I said.
“You don’t need it,” they said back.
I smiled, spun, and hurried toward the stage.
Chapter 31
James
Telling you it was all a blur would be a cliché, but that’s what it was at first. There was a band behind me and a wedding party in front of me, but they faded to nothing when I saw her. The sunlight dimmed, the instruments quieted, and the guests’ pastel-colored clothes started to bleed together like a dyed Easter egg gone horribly wrong. I know it’s a rule of thumb that no one should outshine the bride on her special day, but today’s bride? Whoever she was?
She had nothing on Isa.
Isa—she couldn’t be less of a blur, standing there clear as day in the garden and somehow still wearing her ridiculous heels with her favorite skirt and what looked suspiciously like the blazer I only pulled out of my closet when my grandparentscame into town for the holidays.Keep it,I wanted to say.It’s yours, I’m yours.
I worried my heart was going to give out as I sang but keeping my eyes on Isa eased the pressure. Suddenly I wasn’t onstage at a big wedding; we were just hanging out in my room, working on our latest set. Nobody else was home, so we could play as loud as we wanted without spoiling any surprises. Afterward, I had Frankie Valli going on my record player while Isa was stretched out on my bed and watching me slide across the carpet in my socks. Then I’d spin around and belt the song’s bomb-ass chorus. “You are such a clown,” she’d say, rolling her eyes and smirking when I tripped over a pile of laundry. It made my pulse quicken. “Such a clown, James!”
Performing now felt a little like that, except that there was no laundry to trip over and Isa wasn’t smirking. Her hands were clasped together and she looked like she was crying once the song faded out and the applause came screaming in.Smile,I told myself, even though all I wanted to do was find Isa and wipe away her tears. Were they happy tears? Or sad ones? Had this been too much for her?
I was kind of a dickhead and bowed for the crowd, too. I couldn’tnot,right? It would look weird if I just awkwardly jumped offstage and walked away.Okay, let’s go,my mind nudged me after a second.They’ve thanked you, and you’ve thanked them. Now leave. Go get your girl—
Cheers erupted again, and I noticed some smiling guests bouncing up and down and pointing to the left side of thebandstand. My eyebrows furrowed, but then I turned to see Isa striding across the stage. My stomach flipped. “Izzy,” I breathed when she got close.
“Shut the fuck up” was her exquisitely eloquent response before she flung her arms around my neck and kissed me.
Finally,I thought once I had my hands on her waist, steadying us both.Holy fucking shit, finally.
Her lips were sweeter than ever before, sweeter than cotton candy, and she giggled when I released a deep sigh. “Sorry to ambush you,” she whispered.
“Ambush me anytime,” I replied, kissing her again and then blindly reaching for the scarf that held up her ponytail.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
I didn’t answer; I just tugged the scarf until her soft and silky hair spilled down her back. My chest ached, wanting to run my fingers through it. Isa gave me a funny look, but there wasn’t time to explain. “Encore!” the wedding guests were cheering. “Encore!”
“J,” Isa said, her hands sliding from my neck to my shoulders. She was going to pull away, and I desperately didn’t want that. “They want you to sing another song.”
