Page 29 of Lyric & the Heartbeats

“I’m not—” Emerson cut himself off and huffed. “I don’t know. I’m trying, but like—the omega that walks into the room every day doesn’t seem like the same one who wrote those songs, you know? And she’s not singing like it. So why? And speaking of, why the hell does she take suppressants? She’s an omega. Why doesn’t she own up to it?”

Lyric’s cheeks flamed as defensive responses began running through her head, but she kept her mouth shut.

“Sorry, I missed the part where it’s any of your business,” Desi retorted, deadpan.

“Okay,” Adra said, and she heard a chair screech over the floor. “It’s still early. Drink some more coffee and try to be in a good mood. We all need to do better. There are less than two weeks until we play the first show. Get it together.”

“What are we listening to?” a voice asked right beside her ear.

She jumped and let out a shrill screech. It echoed around the hallway before she choked it off with a gasp and spun to face—Nohen. Horror washed over her as everyone in the other room went quiet, and she glared.

A knowing grin split his lips and he nodded toward the rehearsal room. “Shall we?”

“You suck,” she snapped.

He winked.

With an eyeroll, Lyric gripped her travel mug tighter and walked into the rehearsal room. Quickly, she darted her gaze from one to the other to garner their reactions.

Desi was the only one with an unashamed grin on her face. Adra smiled softly, cheeks darkening in embarrassment, and Emerson had donned that stupid indifferent expression.

Irritation flared up inside her, but she pushed it away.

Today, she’d sing with no fear.

A tiny, stubborn part of herself wanted to show Emerson that she could do it. That she could sing with abandon like she had when she’d written and recorded two albums.

But to do that meant she had to be vulnerable. She had to open herself up to judgment and critique.

“Morning,” she offered softly. “I did voice exercises as I drove, so I’m ready when you guys are.”

Desi held up a finger and tipped her styrofoam cup back. And back some more. And some more. Until she sat it down with an inhale and smiled. “Caffeinated and good to go. Let’s kick ass!”

She punctuated her shout with a bang of drums, and Lyric couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright, let’s kick ass,” she echoed.

Emerson and Nohen repeated the sentiment, and they all turned to Adra.

His cheeks darkened and he scratched at his head. “Uh… Let’s do this!” he amended.

Lyric grinned at his PG version. “Why don’t we try something a little… different today. It’s no surprise we’ve been struggling this week, I know we can all feel it. So how about focusing less on playing my version of each song and play… our version?”

“Deal,” Nohen said.

Once Lyric had confirmations from the others, she turned and adjusted the mic stand. “Okay, let’s do… ‘The Light.’”

She stopped herself short of saying “Finish Line.” Part of herself wanted to sing that one just to shock the hell out of Emerson, but… let’s be reasonable.

She flicked her wrist through the air to signal, and Desi counted them in with a click of her drumsticks.

The drums opened the song with a light tap of the cymbals, the bass drum thumping along with the beat. Then Emerson with the deep, lulling bass line. Adra on the keyboard, a gentle, easy melody.

Nohen strummed a single chord every few beats, letting it ring through the room. Just as it would trail off, he’d strum again.

Lyric let the music seep into her, each beat and chord paired with Adra’s soft melody.

The bass line was a constant reminder of who was watching, and a stubborn part of her didn’t want to disappoint Emerson. Which pissed her off. She didn’t owe any part of herself to another person, but if she wanted to give it her all every night on stage, she needed to give a tiny part of herself to the band.