AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He glances toward the front of the bar, then refocuses on me. “I want you to sing.”
I laugh, startled. “What?”
Kyle tilts his head toward the stage. After the bands performed, it changed to karaoke. Right now, a couple in their thirties is onstage, enthusiastically belting out lyrics to a song I’ve never heard before. Most of the bar is paying them no attention, the music fading to white noise.
“I want you to sing,” he repeats.
“You’vegotto be kidding me.”
He grins. “Nope. You gonna give me what I want?”
We’re talking about music.
I know that.
But it feels like we’re discussing other things too.
His arm brushes against mine. My heartbeat becomes a chaotic, unpredictable rhythm, rapid pounds registering the warmth. Familiar and foreign andconsuming.
Kyle Spencer is consuming.
The more time I spend around him, the more space he takes up.
In my thoughts, in my fantasies, in my emotions.
“I don’t think that’s how gifts work. You’re supposed to accept, notdemand.”
I reach past him, snagging the half-empty glass on the table in front of him. My throat feels dry at the prospect of getting up onstage. The last time I performed in front of a crowd, I was in college. Shortly after deciding I didn’t want it enough to pursue it, I stopped singing anywhere, except the shower.
“It’s just soda,” he tells me, watching me drink.
“I know.” I down a healthy gulp of it, the bubbles burning my throat. Exhale. “Okay. Fine.”
I savor the surprise—the pride—that appears on Kyle’s face before I turn and push through the crowd until I reach the side of the stage. A woman with a pink bob is standing next to the karaoke machine, snapping her gum.
“Hi. I’d like to sing a song,” I tell her.
She hides a yawn behind one hand. “What song?”
“Uh, can I see the options?”
A thick binder is passed to me. I flip through the laminated sheets quickly, trying to decide what I might be able to pull off and conscious of my audience. I want to sing something the crowd will know. I settle on a song right as the couple who was performing walks offstage to short, scattered applause.
“You’re up,” the woman says, then snaps her gum.
I inhale a deep breath, trying to pull in some courage with the smoky oxygen. Whiskey Cowboy might no longer allow smoking indoors, but they clearly did at one point.
The shouts start as soon as I’m up onstage.
“Woo!”
“Go, Piper!”
“Hell yeah!”
My cheeks burn at the attention, but the support feels good too. I pray I’m not about to embarrass myself as I stare out at the hundred or so expectant faces, wondering how the hell Kyle performs in front of audiences so large that they fill up stadiums.
The music starts playing. It’s a little better once I start singing. There’s something to focus on, to distract me from the eyes on me. I start to enjoy it, the few minutes passing faster than I expected.
