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My eyes roamed over the box one more time, fingertips brushing along the brochures, the several printouts I had for Ashton. The different programs were listed on the front, an enticing thought as my eyes scanned them for the millionth time.
I placed the lid back on my box of dreams and what ifs and shoved it as far back as I could, taking one long reset breath. The residual feeling of dull dread, though, didn’t really subside.
I never thought I’d be walking into Crushed Beanz as Destelle, but I stared up at the teal awning in my pink peacoat and heeled boots, feeling five kinds of freaked out.
“I’m so excited!” Grace squealed from beside me, all but bouncing across the street as we crossed. “Oh, my gosh, Destelle, they’re so good. A friend played me their music last week, and I just loved it. Ooh, do you remember that server from Le Petit Bateau? The hot one with the tattoo? That’s the lead singer! Small world, huh?”
I was too overwhelmed to muster a good fake smile. “Small world.”
Thankfully, Grace didn’t know that arriving early was imperative if she wanted to get a seat in a booth near the stage, which meant we were destined to stand in the back. Out of the direct line of Harry. Small victories. And even through the glass, I could see they stood onstage, could see Harry pulling his guitar strap over his shoulder. Perfect.
I could hear Harry’s voice before we pulled open the door. “We recently asked you all what your favorite song of ours was, and a lot of you said you loved our new one, ‘Dance Floor.’ We thought we’d open with that tonight.”
Jonathan looked up when we walked in, offering us a smile. “Hey, welcome to—” He faltered then, confusion swamping his expression. “Crushed Beanz.”
Jonathan had never seen me as Destelle before, but heknewmy secret, so I wondered if that had any sway over his recognition of me. Then again, Addy hadn’t known my secret and she still had seen the similarities. It made me that much more worried about Harry spotting me.
“Thank you!” Grace said to Jonathan with a wide smile, unbuttoning her coat. “I can’t believe there aren’t more people than this. Destelle, you’re going tolovethem.”
Jonathan’s face cleared, confusion wiped away.Destelle.
Really, I thought to Grace.Because it feels like I’m going to throw up.“I can’t wait.” The lack of enthusiasm was astounding.
Grace didn’t seem to notice it. “Can you hang on to my coat for me?” she asked, stuffing it into my arms without waiting for an answer. She wore a pretty gray sweater, one that made her blonde hair appear more vibrant. “I’m going to see if I can get closer.” And then she hurried off, squeezing into the tight spaces between the crowd, her slight frame disappearing.
“Yeah,Destelle,” Jonathan mused once I walked closer. “You’re going to love them.”
I laid her jacket down on the countertop, and my Claire-Haute was quick to follow. The band began playing their song, the one Harry claimed he wrote about me. It made my insides feel even more unsettled. Two worlds merging.
“I’m freaking out,” I whispered to Jonathan, plopping down on one of the barstools and covering my face with my hands. “What if Harry recognizes me? You did. Within, like, point-five seconds.”
“That’s because I was waiting forStellato walk in, so I was already thinking of your face. It’s not like you to miss two nights in a row.” Jonathan picked a coffee mug from the rack, moving toward the espresso machine, working on my unspoken order. “I’ll be honest, though, itiskind of funny how different you look. Almost like Stella is your sister rather than your alter ego.”
I nodded my head slow. That was a good thing. Addy had thought the same thing when she asked me about it, back when she’d seenDestelleat the gas station. She told me I had a doppelgänger.
I looked Jonathan in the eye. “Harry almost kissed me yesterday.”
Jonathan set down the mug, his jaw all but dropping. “What do you mean,almost?”
“I pulled away.”
The shock morphed into impatience. “Details, girl. Now.”
He leaned in close while I told him about yesterday, down to Natasha showing up. I told him about the hug and how it almost led to a kiss, but I couldn’t. How could I kiss Harry without being honest? The longer I drew out the secret, the harder it would be to come clean.
“I don’t really understand,” Jonathan said after a moment, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “Help me understand: Why is Stella such a big secret? Why are you nervous to tell him?”
Gosh, the million-dollar question. “It started out as an escape from my normal life,” I told him, glancing around as if someone were going to overhear me. “To be someone else. What if…what if he doesn’t get that? What if he thinks I’m fake for doing that? A coward?”
“A coward?” he repeated, unconvinced.
“People can judge Stella and it’s no big deal. But I don’t think I could take it if they judgedme.” Harry’s voice cut between my words then, and Vincent’s drumbeats accented it perfectly, building the tension to the notes. A shiver worked its way over my skin, slipping down my spine. “IfHarryjudged me.”
“If he judges you, screw him,” Jonathan said simply, and then frowned. “Figuratively.”
I almost smiled. “And then there’s the fact that we are so different. Harry and Stella are similar, but Harry and Destelle are…different.”
Without warning, Jonathan pinched my arm, making me jump. “You are Stella.”
