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“Gray, I’m dead serious. What’s going on? What is this?”
“Are you honestly telling me that you, Mr. Music Snob Extraordinaire, have never heard of Intrigue’s open mic nights?”
“Of course I’ve heard of them, you dolt! That’s how I know you pulled some shady shit to get us back here because the waiting list to perform at Intrigue is about three years long. You practically have to sell a kidney if you want to skip the queue, and as far as I’m aware, you haven’t come home with any suspicious scars,” he snarked.
“Actually, there’s a much more reasonable way to secure a spot, Princess.”
“Oh? And what would that be? You suck off the manager or something?”
“No, baby,” I said softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear and cupping his cheek. “I sent them the video of you singing for my birthday. Believe it or not, talent like yours gets you through the door a whole hell of a lot quicker.”
Colt gazed up at me in a mixture of shock and awe. “You did this for me?” His voice carried a blend of vulnerability and overwhelmed gratitude.
I pressed a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Of course I did. After all the support you’ve given me, helping me pursue my dreams of going to college, this was the least I could do. Plus, I have it on good authority that a big time bougie producer is in attendance tonight.” Leaning down, I whispered directly into his ear, “A little birdy may have forwarded your video to said producer, and word has it he’s very keen on meeting you.”
Colt’s eyes widened dramatically, followed by a punch to my shoulder that carried more force than should have been possible from someone his size. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you keep this a secret? I don’t have anything prepared! I don’t even have my guitar. I’ve never performed for a crowd this size!” He was spiraling, and it was oddly adorable.
I gripped both of his shoulders and turned him to face me. “Breathe, baby. You don’t need to rehearse anything. You could sing the fucking alphabet up there and still leave them in awe.”
Colt scowled once more. “Now is not the time for jokes, Gray.”
“I’m not joking. I don’t know how many times I have to remind you how incredible you are before you believe me. Perhaps it’ll finally sink in when one of the most sought after LA music producers is practically kissing your ass to sign with him.”
“Bu—”
“Nuh-uh none of that. Now, do you really think I would bring you all this way and leave you hanging? Your guitar is over there with the soundcheck crew and has already been tuned. You can do this.” The venue had offered Colt the option to use one of their instruments, but I knew he’d be even more nervous at the idea of performing on a guitar he’d never touched before.
Colt appeared deathly pale and thoroughly terrified, but he managed a small nod. He mouthed the words back to me, losing himself the musical zone he often inhabited while playing. Taking that as a positive sign, I kissed his cheek in farewell, letting him know I’d be in the audience if he needed me.
I doubted he heard me, already immersed in his own world of notes and lyrics. As I navigated back to the bar, I sensed a palpable shift in the atmosphere. The nightclub ambience had given way to an excited hum of anticipation, all directed toward the stage where a vibrant drag queen served as the night’s emcee.
I didn’t absorb much more than that, the nerves hitting me like a freight train. I had spent so much time willing this night into existence that I hadn’t considered what would unfold afterward. My anxiety didn’t stem from doubts about Colt’s performance on stage—his musical talent was a given, ingrained in his DNA, and he possessed more skill in his pinky than most artists currently on the charts.
No, my fear resided in the uncertainties that awaited us beyond this night. It was inevitable that Colt would need to relocate to LA, while I embarked on my first semester at UWM in a little over a week. The prospect of moving to California had always loomed on the horizon, but I had refrained from delving too deeply into the details of transferring to a college there. I didn’t want to jinx things.
I’d have to complete at least one semester, perhaps the entire year to keep my scholarship, before making the transfer. We were staring down an extended period of separation, and the thought was painful. It wasn’t about questioning whether we could make long-distance work—I’d move mountains for Colt. But I’d fucking miss him. He had become an integral part of my daily existence, and imagining waking up without seeing his cute, grumpy face was a heartache in itself.
It was going to suck, but it was also a necessary and temporary sacrifice to lay the foundation for the future we had both envisioned.
Lost in my thoughts, I must have missed the announcement that Colt was taking the stage. I didn’t miss him though—the first note that escaped his lips drew my attention to him like a magnetic force.
By the end of the first chorus, it felt like déjà vu. The entire crowd mirrored the reactions of those at Spark, just on a grander scale. Told you, baby. I’m not the only one left speechless by your voice. The whole audience was captivated by Colt’s performance, hanging on every word, every chord.
Colt, bathed in the glow of the spotlight with adoring fans at his feet, was a sight to behold. It appeared as natural as breathing for him, his body moving with a fluid grace that became utterly mesmerizing. I became so entranced by those molten chocolate eyes, falling even more in love with him, that I didn’t even realize his set had concluded until the deafening cheers shook the ground beneath me.
I smiled at Colt’s bashful little grin and the obvious blush, his discomfort at the praise on full display. He quickly hightailed it off stage, but the cheers continued long after his departure. Calls for an encore echoed through the venue, a rare occurrence for a gig of this nature.
I headed to the bar and ordered a drink, settling in to wait for Colt to find me. However, as time passed, uncertainty crept in. Given Colt’s nature, he could either be casually chatting with a producer like it was no big deal, or he might be grappling with a panic attack in some seedy club bathroom. Just as I was contemplating getting up to search for him, a shout sliced through the noise.
“Gray!”
I swiveled in the bar stool just in time to catch a skipping Colt launching himself into my arms. He knocked the wind from my lungs, and before I could catch my breath, Colt was peppering kisses on any exposed piece of skin he could reach.
“Thank you.” Kiss. “Thank you.” Kiss. “Thank you!”
To avoid shouting, I held up a finger to signal for Colt to wait a second. I pulled him along with me, making our way outside to an empty beer garden shining under twinkling fairy lights. The outdoor area could be hired out for private functions, and I’d specially reserved it tonight just for us.
“Did you have fun?” I asked when we finally had a semblance of privacy to talk.
