Page 61 of Lyric & the Heartbeats

“You guys look gorgeous,” she said into the mic, knowing her voice would carry not only through the amps and out to the crowd, but through their monitors.

She was met with four matching grins as they carried into the next song.

Halfway through the set, during a dance outro, Nohen shimmied closer to her and yanked out his monitor to speak.

“How’s that stage presence of yours working out?” he teased.

Lyric’s cheeks flushed. That hadn’t even been on her mind. She was too focused on the stage, the lights, the colors, the magic of it all.

The awkwardness from the first few practices was gone—but still, it was far from perfect. It wasn’t something Lyric could put her finger on, and as it threatened to ruin the magic of the night, her face flushed with annoyance.

It wasn’t something she knew how to fix, not with a command or a stern warning or even something that could be corrected. But something was itching at the forefront of her mind, and as Nohen changed guitars, Lyric met him side stage, leaving the crowd behind.

“Hey,” she shouted, laying a palm on his shoulder. His shirt was damp with sweat, and he wiped his brow as he turned to her. His smile was contagious, and even with her blood pumping and determination screaming through her, she grinned back at him.

“Go for it,” she said.

His smile faltered for a split second. “You mean it?”

Lyric couldn’t count how many times she’d arrived at the practice space to find Nohen already picking at the strings, experimenting with different sounds to her own songs. She’d chalked it up to boredom or killing time, but listening to him play the same sheet music he’d been given to learn on stage… something told Lyric to give him the same freedom on stage that he’d loved in those early morning moments.

“Yeah. Don’t hold back.”

Nohen slung his guitar to the side and pulled her in. His sticky shirt clung to his skin, and she shrieked before pushing him away.

“Okay, okay, I get it! Show us what you’ve got.” Lyric gave him a gentle shove toward the stage, and he walked backward, shooting her a wink before the crowd lit up again at his reappearance.

Henry handed her a water bottle, arching an eyebrow and glaring until she drank half of it.

Then, finally, with his nod of approval, she entered the stage again.

Her gaze for some reason was immediately drawn to Emerson. Most of the set, he’d been cast in shadow, head down, focusing on the music. But now he looked up, a gleam in his eye that shined as brightly as the stage lights.

Her heart pounded, her blood pulsed, and she sucked in a deep breath as she approached the mic stand again. Desi began another count.

The music reverberated in her ears, through her veins, and spilled out of her lips. While the lyrics were more angry than happy, the music thrummed through her, invigorating her with new energy. She wrapped her hand around the mic and tapped her heel against the stage, singing with all her heart.

Her eyes tried to drift close, but Lyric kept them open. She wanted to ingrain this night into her memory. On stage, with thousands of people in the crowd. Singing along with her, screaming and yelling as the music flowed around them.

A smirk touched her lips as she sang about karma and payback. The music curled around her, wrapping her in a cocoon of safety, and she let herself go. Pulling the mic out of the stand, she bounced on her feet as the chorus approached, and when the beat dropped, she danced and sang. Gliding over to Nohen, she grinned and let the music pour out of her as it spilled from him. It was angry, and loud, and as Nohen added his own flair to the music, everything fell into place.

Like puzzle pieces suddenly locking together, or a stubborn key finally sliding into place. She wanted to scream, or cry or even—oh, fuck it, she wanted to kiss Nohen right on the lips.

But she didn’t, too aware of the thousands of eyes on them, but she was certain he could read the thought in her gaze as he dipped his head, gazing up at her with a smirk as he strummed the strings.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, walked around him, and held eye contact until the very last second. Then, while it tested her voice control, she danced with him, back-to-back, before Emerson caught her eye.

As the strange energy filled her, carried her across the stage toward him, she forgot to be afraid. Forgot to fret over stage presence or appearances. Singing, music, was about having fun and letting go. She stopped only a foot away, pointed at him as she sang, but kept her distance because the energy coming off him was as dangerous as the alpha himself.

Seeking something—someone—safer, she found Adra.

Adra was smiling, vibrating with the intensity from the song, but he was so still. As her lips formed the lyrics, she placed one hand on the circular rail, propped one foot on the ledge of the platform, and pushed off with her other foot. They spun, and Adra had to catch his balance, but he continued playing. The stage, the lights, and the dark empty space of the venue circled around them until she carefully leaned back, holding herself up with the rail and dragging the toe of her sneaker across the stage. It slowed them to a stop, and then she bounced over to Desi, leaving Adra with a smile on his face.

Desi was slamming her passion into the drums and cymbals with a grin, her hair damp with sweat and flying around her face as she moved. Lyric didn’t distract her, instead, she drifted her fingers over the plexiglass frame of the stand and smiled.

As the song came to a close, she floated over the stage and back to the mic stand, gripping it with both hands as she clicked it back into place.

She swayed from side to side as she finished the outro, letting the music drift around them until it faded completely.