The intercom flicked on. “You guys ready?”

“Hell, yeah. She’s got it. Let’s go.” He swung his hand overhead like he was signaling for a cattle round-up.

“You should hear her sing.” Freddy laughed.

My glare shot to him.

“You sing, too?” Camden set down his guitar, resting it against his stool.

“Not really,” I mumbled.

His eyes locked in on me with an assessing gaze. “Somehow, I doubt that, but this isn’t an interrogation, so I’ll let it slide.”

“Do you regularly hold interrogations?”

He chuckled. “I’ve been known to.”

The door opened and the rest of the band entered the room. They took their spots and I was seconds from pinching myself. I was sitting in a room with Without Grey about to jam with them. My fingers got all itchy and tingly.

I sucked in a breath. An irrational part of my brain threatened to send me running from the room. They were about to hear me play, although I’d known they were on the other side of the glass the last two times I played this.

A hand dropped to my knee. Camden ducked his head to catch my eye. Kindness and calm radiated through them.

“Deep breaths. Pretend you’re sitting in your room, playing the song along to the album. You’ve got this.”

He sat up straight and started off the count.

I closed my eyes and pictured myself sitting on the back steps. All alone, except for his eyes. Why was it so easy to play for him? My fingers flew across the strings, each note memorized and flowed through me. My hand stilled the strings as Camden held the final note.

“Fucking hell!” There was a pile on. Without Grey was tackling me in a hug.

The intercom from the mixing side came on. “Hell of a job, Bay.” Maddy stood with her arms folded over her chest and a wide smile on her face. “If you can sing like Freddy says you can and you want a deal, I know some people.”

I dropped my head, shaking it. Playing was one thing, but singing? I’d probably hyperventilate and pass out if I tried. “I’ll stick to playing.”

“Suit yourself.”

Freddy barged in on the mic. “We need another take and then you can record the vocals, Camden.”

“Sounds good.” He rocked back on the stool. “From the top.”

I rode home feeling like I could stay awake for days. The energy drummed in my veins like Elias’s drum beat. School was in three hours, but I didn’t even care. I couldn’t sleep. I took the stairs three at a time and tore open my notebook. The words spilled out of me like an overflowing sink. Every single one about him. Maybe I could purge the thoughts of Dare through the written word. Hell if I knew whether it would work, but I’d sure as hell try. Anything else was far too dangerous of a fire to get close to.

9

Dare

The classroom desks shrunk every year. At least the cooler weather meant we weren’t all sweating our asses off with the long, narrow windows cracked and giant rotating fans blowing on us every forty-five seconds as we sweltered in the late-spring muggy heat. There had been a reprieve with everyone still in coats, except for the one group of kids who never transitioned out of shorts and flip-flops, even in the dead of winter.