Mercifully, it’s a short set, after which Heather immediately goes to find him, tell him he’s brilliant, and abandon me and Sabrina to go sit with him. Sabs and I sit through an impressive quick-change routine, an even more impressive singing performance by Heather and Kayla, a tap dance by a girl in my chem class, Darryl and Jason’s rap battle, a ventriloquist, and a Shakespearean monologue by the Lockwood prefect. The night seems to be winding down when Hoffman declares, “And next up, we have a late addition to the roster … from the illustrious Rumson Hall, please welcome Salem Grayson and his guitar, playing Guns N’ Roses’ ‘Patience’!”

“I’m sorry, it’s who doing what now?” But even as the words leave my lips my eyes track Salem’s long, lean body shuffling up to the stage, a guitar I’ve never even seen before slung over his shoulder.

Sabrina rolls her eyes. “I knew he couldn’t resist.”

“He what?” I’m still stunned by the sight of Salem up there on the stage, hopping onto a stool, admittedly looking every inch the rock star.

Jenna must be so proud. I’ve never seen her play anything but cool, but the way her eyes are fixed on the stage, a tiny smile playing at her lips, her eyes glittering in the dim light of the room … against all odds, she really does like Salem. It’s fascinating.

Salem coughs into the mic and says, “It’s actually Chris Cornell’s cover of ‘Patience,’ but uh, yeah.”

He starts strumming, and from the very first melancholy notes, my breath catches in my throat. The melody is beautiful, yeah, but there’s something about the way his fingers look curved around the wood of the guitar’s neck, the effortlessness with which they pluck at the chords, and the contemplative look on his face, peaceful but focused, as if whatever—or whoever—is inspiring him right now is right there behind his eyelids.

And when he opens his mouth, his playing is nothing compared to his voice. His voice. It’s a low rasp coated in honey, achingly romantic, and even though I know those grungy jeans and that Black Flag T-shirt and corded leather bracelet as well as I know my own wardrobe, I cannot believe that voice is coming out of Salem Grayson, of all people. The voice and the words. He made it sound like he and Jenna are a casual thing, like they’re just hooking up, but … this isn’t a song you sing about a girl you’re just having fun with. A song about waiting? Having patience? Believing that you’ll make it?

Salem’s singing like he’s in love.

If I were Jenna—or, hell, if this were anyone other than Salem—I’d be fully weak in the knees by now.