Page 95 of Saints & Sailors

The thought made me nervous.

“What if I suck?” I bit my cheek, staring at the lens apprehensively.

Dreux looked back at me after he made sure the camera was stable and secure. “You won’t.” He said it matter-of-factly, giving me a boost of confidence.

He came back and sat beside me. With a wink, he began to play.

I gathered his unlocked phone and searched Google for the lyrics. After a deep breath, I found myself looking Dreux’s way one final time before I began to sing.

At first, I worried over my pitch and the overall sound of my voice, but then because I did love the song, I got lost in it.

At one point I felt Dreux look up from the keys and watch me. His heated stare made me almost stumble, but I kept my focus down on the lyrics on the screen before me. He never looked away and I never stopped singing.

The entirety of Cowboy Carter was truly phenomenal, but what I loved most about “Just for Fun” was how raw and real it felt when Beyoncé sang it. The emotion packed into each lyric, the lines themselves and what they meant. A song about persevering despite all the bullshit, all the grief and pain you could be dealing with, just to keep going and finding one’s purpose. Whatever that was.

Singing the record made me relate to it even more.

When I finished the last note, I blew out a breath, hoping I hadn’t sounded bad.

Dreux blinked, slowly peeling his gaze from me before standing up to stop the recording.

“Well?” I asked as he stood quietly going over the footage.

He lifted his head and regarded me seriously. “You’re amazing.” He shook his head, as if at a loss for words. “Your voice…your tone…you’re incredible, Saylor.”

I shrank a little, not expecting those words. “Really?”

“Yes!” Dreux rushed to say. “You gotta let me upload this. YouTube—hell, even social media.”

Singing was just something I did in the car, while I cleaned my room, or was out at a bar with the guys. If Dreux thought I was good enough to share, why not?

“Okay,” I agreed. “Who knows, maybe I’ll become a famous hobo when we graduate if it works out.”

Dreux’s brows furrowed. “Why would you end up a hobo?”

I shrugged. “I’m pretty sure I’m not going to college.” I focused down on my jeans. “Don’t really have any dreams or big aspirations either. I don’t want to save the world; I just wanna live in it. I mean, what else is there for me?”

Dreux considered my words, taking his time to form a response. “Why not college?”

“I don’t want to waste anyone’s time if I don’t have an idea or plan for myself,” I confessed.

Dreux set his camera down and came closer. “Education’s never a waste. Even if you go in without a major or idea, there’s no telling if you’ll be inspired or not. Or maybe you’ll take a gap year to really lock in. Either way, college isn’t the be-all and end-all. If you don’t go, that’s okay, too. You’ll find your niche.”

His words were gentle and encouraging. Free of judgment. Exactly what I needed to hear.

“Thanks. You always know just what to say,” I said.

Dreux looked on at me, soon lifting his chin. “What feels good?”

“This.” My cheeks heated and I was quick to add, “Music, I mean. Whenever things were shit back in LA, whether I was fighting with my mom or pissed at the world, everything made sense when I was lying in my room listening to music.”

“I know what you mean,” Dreux agreed. “How’s your room here? After going all Rolling Stones and painting it black?”

I laughed and gave him a thumbs-up. “Solid reference.”

Outside of painting the walls, I hadn’t yet really made my room my own.

I stood up, immediately feeling nervous. “You wanna see?”