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However, backstage at Spark, my little white lie seemed less like a fabrication and more like a premonition. The prospect of stepping onto the comparatively small stage with a single spot light, facing an equally small and dark bar full of strangers waiting to pass judgment, made my stomach churn like I might actually hurl.
It wasn’t even the opinions of the crowd that had my anxiety spiraling. The majority of people would be crowded up against the long timber bar that took up the entire back wall, more invested in attempting to flag down a drink, than caring about the mediocre talent that could be sourced in Jasper. I had honed enough of a tough exterior over the years, capable of weathering criticism without flinching. What knotted my stomach was the fear of letting Gray down. If tonight ended in failure, all the unwavering support he’d given me would feel like it had been in vain.
“I hope you ain’t plannin’ on doing a runner. That’d make this whole shindig more pointless than tits on a bull,” a voice drawled behind me, dripping with an exaggerated Southern accent.
Startled, I practically leaped out of my skin, caught off by the stealthy approach. Swiveling around, I was met with the shit eating grin of Kingston, the Texas native clinging to his roots in his usual wannabe cowboy getup, and Remy standing behind him, rolling his eyes.
“Knock it off, King,” Remy snapped.
“What?” Kingston sounded indignant. “I’m just sayin’. It took forever to get our boy to agree to come out tonight, cause he’s totally got heart eyes for his boy here,” he gestured a thumb toward me, “and is probably itchin’ to head home and watch him sleep all Edward Cullen style.”
Remy and I exchanged a glance over Kingston’s ridiculous Stetson, our eyes crinkling with shared amusement. Kingston hastily shifted his gaze between us, scowling at the camaraderie.
“Oh fuck you both.” He jokingly flipped us both his middle fingers. “Gray’s obsessed with those books, and you damn well know it. He even asked me to help him read over some parts in seventh grade ‘cause he knew I wouldn’t give him grief like the rest of you assholes. It’s actually a pretty kickass story, although, let’s be real, Bella totally should have boned down with Jacob before settling for boring Edward. Ya know, make sure she wasn’t making the wrong choice…”
Before Kingston could delve further into his Twilight analysis, I cut him off by darting forward and enveloping him in a bear hug. Kingston might play the fool in our group, and it suited his aesthetic, but beneath it all he was sharp as a tack and knew exactly how to break the tension. Of all Gray's friends, Kingston was the one I felt the most kinship towards. His ridiculousness brought a smile to my face, and for a few minutes, my nerves were washed away thanks to him.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice slightly shaky.
He patted the top of my head, and with anyone else, it would have felt patronizing. But with Kingston, I understood it was his own peculiar way of reciprocating the hug.
“Nothing to thank me for, little Spit. Can’t have you keeling over on us before your big moment. And you know the drill—Gray’s our boy and you’re his, so we’ll always have your back. Now look alive, ‘cause he’ll be here any second.” Kingston headed toward the steps leading back to the bar, pausing to turn around once more. “Oh, and you have nothing to be nervous about. Gray may hype you up because he’s head over heels for you, but he ain’t wrong. Your singing could bring a grown man to tears; it’s that damn good. Just go out there, do your thang and have a blast shaking that ass for your man!” With a cheeky salute, he vanished behind the curtains.
“For the record, he’s not wrong. The only thing you have to worry about is the real possibility of Gray storming the stage, scooping you up and fireman carrying you out of here before anyone else can lay a finger on you,” Remy informed me when it was just the two of us left backstage.
At that, I rolled my eyes.
“But seriously, you good? You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. Gray isn’t going to like it if he thinks we forced you into doing this.”
I entertained the thought of pointing out that Remy did kind of strong-arm me into this, but I held my tongue. Deep down, I knew I needed this, for myself more than anything. If I was genuinely committed to pursuing music, pushing myself beyond my comfort zone was inevitable.And Gray, well, he was the best motivator I could ask for.
“I’m good,” I nodded, reassuring myself as much as Remy.
“Okay, I’ll make sure Gray is in position and then announce you before the curtain lifts.”
I took a deep breath, holding it in, my fingers fidgeting with the guitar strap as I waited in the obscured darkness of the backstage area.
Grayson
Perched on a stool at the hand-made timber bar at Spark, I put on my best act, feigning interest in Jason and Tarek’s conversation. However, in truth I was covertly checking my phone under the bartop every few seconds to ensure I didn’t accidentally miss a message from Colt.
He’d insisted I go out and have a good time, but I couldn’t shake the lingering worry I felt when I recalled the greenish tint to his skin after we’d finished dinner.
Maybe I should just bail and head home to check on him?
The dilemma gnawed at me, but deep down, I knew the guys wouldn’t let me off the hook so easily. I could all too easily picture them physically restraining me if I attempted an early escape. Apparently, attendance by the birthday boy was non-negotiable.
I didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. Sure, it was technically my first “legal” drink, but we’d been regulars at this place for over a year. The laid-back owner conveniently turned a blind eye when we flashed our fake IDs, fully aware that we were part of the high school football team. After all, I suppose in a small town where the customer base is limited and the law enforcement presence sporadic, a paying customer was a paying customer.
At least I could exhale a sigh of relief knowing that Colt took my admission about my real age better than expected this morning. I had braced myself, expecting him to be pissed at best and dumping me at worst. I had delayed coming clean for days, grappling with the realization that I needed to ‘fess up, even if I hadn’t intentionally deceived him. But I couldn’t stop imagining seeing raw hurt flash across his face when he discovered that I’d broken his trust already. It weighed even heavier on my mind this morning, the guilt eating me alive as I woke up to breakfast in bed, complete with a candle stuck in a muffin.
After Colt treated me to a personal serenade, the most seductive rendition of “Happy Birthday” I’d ever witnessed, I halted him when he leaned in for a kiss. I couldn’t let the lie persist any longer. “I need to tell you something,” I blurted out.
Apart from a faint frown creasing his brow, Colt remained surprisingly composed. I had braced myself for immediate suspicion. “Go on,” he replied softly.
“I know we haven’t explicitly discussed it, but I feel the need to come clean anyway. It’s my twenty-first birthday today, not my eighteenth. I’ve been held back in school a few times, but I don’t like people knowing. Everyone already thinks I’m stupid enough; I don’t need to give them further proof of it…” I trailed off, the familiar shame washing over me. Terrified of being branded as a liar, I couldn’t bring myself to meet Colt’s eyes—his disdain for dishonesty making it one of his deal breakers.
Instead of reproach, Colt cupped my face in his hands and kissed me until I was breathless. When we finally broke apart for air, all he said was, “Thank you for telling me.”
