Page 30 of Lyric & the Heartbeats

The music flowed around her, lulling and gentle and hypnotic. The familiarity of the song called to her, beckoning her closer. Lyric parted her lips and let her voice out, and at first—she recognized it clearly—she could hear what Emerson had been talking about.

The lyrics left her lips, but there was no emotion in them. She could be singing page seven hundred and forty-three of the encyclopedia, and no one would be able to tell the difference.

After the first verse, Lyric blinked her eyes open and studied the soundproofed walls. They were alone. It was just her and the music.

The music that still played sweetly around her—if mechanically. She wasn’t letting herself connect to the lyrics she’d poured on the page from her very soul, and the others in the room weren’t connecting either.

Lyric was the one who had to bridge the connection.

Letting her eyes drift closed again, she focused on the music. As it drifted around her, she forced herself to remember exactly why she’d written this song. When.

And how. In scribbled notes kept hidden beneath her mattress.

It swelled as the next verse approached like the tide, the water chilling her toes and shocking her into movement. It stung, but instead of backing out and seeking the safety of the warm sand, she took a step forward. And then another. She let the music surround her like freezing ocean water, let herself get lost in it, almost suffocating.

Then she sang.

The second her voice poured out of her, the entire room changed. At first, she could sense the surprise, almost feel their glances dart from her back to the others before back again. But then, as she let the emotion flow out of her into the lyrics, it all… merged.

Meshed. Flowed together.

“The Light” was a song about hopeless, loneliness, and fear. About never finding the light at the end of the tunnel.

And as Lyric remembered that terror, that anxiety, she did so knowing she had found the light at the end of the tunnel. That knowledge gave her the courage to keep singing, to keep spilling her soul into each word.

The second verse dipped right into the chorus, and as the music swelled, Lyric’s voice did too. The notes were high, but as she hit them, she was higher.

Her fingers clenched tightly around the mic stand and she gripped her other hand around the mic so firmly she could feel the indentions she’d leave.

She swayed with the music as the chorus dissolved into a dancy instrumental section, and she blinked her eyes open again. Risked a glance to her right.

Nohen’s fingers danced over the frets as he smiled down at his guitar, but as if he sensed her gaze, he glanced up. Relief filled her at the excitement in his eyes, but also… the somberness. As if he’d only just realized what the song was about. Or if he could sense the sadness she’d felt when she’d written it. Or maybe he even… understood.

Lyric pulled her gaze away, wanted to be brave enough to seek Emerson’s, but instead she faced forward and sang the chorus and vocal outro. Her voice trailed off with the rest of the music, and she sucked in a deep breath.

Time froze for a moment as silence filled the room in place of the song, and Lyric forced herself to turn and face the others.

“How was that?” she asked, a feigned air of confidence emitting from her.

“That was fucking awesome,” Desi praised. “You killed that.”

“We all did,” Lyric amended, and Desi shrugged.

“Eh. We follow your lead.”

Lyric swallowed as she realized just how true that was. If she didn’t learn how to be vulnerable in her performance, how could she expect them to? If they had to go out on stage and give the crowd their all, she was going to lead the way.

“That was the best one yet,” Adra added. “Good job.”

She offered him a silent nod and a soft smile.

Pointedly, she ignored Emerson’s gaze until last. She grabbed a bottle of water to give herself something to do with her hands as she finally let her eyes trail up to his.

He didn’t say anything, but for once the nonchalance was gone. In its place was understanding.

No judgment, no irritation, no coldness.

“What’s next, princess?” he inquired.