Chapters (29)
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- THANK YOU
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A cheer went through the crowd as the band walked onto the stage, and I stood on my toes to get a better look. Hector, a Latino guy with curly hair tucked under a baseball cap, sat in front of the drums. He was followed by Becca, a blue-haired pixie in a dress with safety pins all over it. She stumbled across the stage like she was drunk, but managed to pick up her bass and slip it over her neck. Next came Kyle, his black hair hanging in his eyes and the gauges in his ear flashing under the lights. He moved behind his keyboard, but my gaze left him as soon as his older brother Jared appeared.
The crowd’s cheering took on more of a screaming sound, and one girl even yelled, “Jared, I love you!” I rolled my eyes. Not that I blamed the girl. With dark hair that always stuck up like he’d just gotten out of bed, a perpetual five o’clock shadow, and blue eyes that could charm any girl into giving him his phone number, Jared was impossible to resist. I wanted to, believe me, but every time he opened his mouth and sang it was all over.
Jared gave the audience a wicked grin while he grabbed his guitar, a black Fender Stratocaster almost identical to my own except for the color. Like Kyle, he had tattoos running up and down his toned arms, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they continued under his shirt.
The entire club buzzed with excitement, every one of us poised on the edge, holding our breaths and waiting for the plunge. In this moment, right before the music started, it felt like anything could happen—and I was ready.
Hector yelled out, “One, two, three, four,” and the band launched into their first song. Jared’s hard guitar riffs filled the small club, matched with the deep pulse of the bass, the fierce beat of the drums, and the eerie moan from Kyle’s keyboard. The music ripped through me, touching the wild, dark part of my soul I kept locked away. My fingers itched to form the chords myself and play along, but I kept my hands in fists at my sides. Instead I nodded my head to the music, picking out each note Jared played and feeling it in a way only another musician could.