Page 102 of Run Away With Me

She was bright and beautiful and, sure, I could have a crush on the way she looked, but that wasn’t it anymore. I knew the quiet girl, the funny girl, the talented girl. The girl who had protected me, who had looked to me to protect her, too. The Brooke who had made me Jessie, instead of Mouse, and how could I do anything but love her after that? She’d rewritten me. Remade me.

I set the guitar down for our last song, ‘Thunder Road’. This was Brooke, all Brooke, and I just provided harmony. Her sexy, soft, deeper voice worked perfectly for this, and I felt us connect across the stage: my voice and hers.

It was a cliché to say I was startled by the applause at the end of our set, but for a moment I’d totally forgotten we were on stage. Everyone else had stopped mattering.

Brooke came and wrapped me up in a tight hug, too tight, and then she dipped into a little bow for the crowd, and I dropped a curtsey, appreciating the few laughs that drew from my invisible audience.

And then it was over.

I couldn’t admit to Brooke that it wasn’t as bad as I’d been expecting, because she’d never let me forget that if I did. And if I was being honest with myself, I’d almost enjoyed it. Being on stage with her, feeling that connection, the crowd’s reaction to how well our voices blended together, all created a heady mix that I could easily get addicted to. I held her hand tightly as we stepped down off the stage and went back to our seats, accepting congratulations from the other performers.

‘You guys were great,’ the woman next to me said.

‘Thanks,’ I replied.

The next band starting up saved me from having to say any more.

I sent the woman a polite smile and turned away, back to the stage, as a guy with a beard and a guitar checked his mic.

It took me half a second into his song to realize that this was the guy Liam had told us about – the one who alwaysperformed ‘Graceland’. He was good. His voice had that kind of husky tone that was super popular, and he was attractive, too.

Under the table, Brooke put her hand on my thigh. Even though I thought the heat from her palm would burn me, I didn’t squirm, and she left it there for the rest of the night.

We didn’t win.

That was okay.

From what Liam had told us, I wasn’t expecting to, and there were some people playing who were clearly open mic night regulars and objectively better than us. It didn’t really matter. Brooke had dragged me into it because of the prize money, and I’d agreed to it because, sure, five hundred bucks would have nicely topped up our funds. But I’d taken more away from the night than the prize money.

When we stepped onto the street, it seemed to have its own atmosphere and buzz, even though it was after midnight on a weeknight. People spilled out of the bars to smoke, and I could hear music from multiple venues.

‘You did it,’ Brooke said, slinging an arm around my shoulders.

‘And I didn’t puke!’

She laughed. ‘I knew you wouldn’t. You were pretty amazing up there, Jessie.’

‘You were too.’

I leaned into her side and she squeezed my shoulder, and for the first time since leaving Seattle, I let myself breathe.

17

Dangerous– Michael Jackson

The bathroom was so full of steam I couldn’t see myself in the mirror, and when I wiped off a neat square with the edge of my towel, it misted over again quickly. It didn’t matter. I could put my pajamas on and brush my teeth without seeing my face.

I was still riding the stomach-clenching high from performing, even though a couple of hours had passed. It didn’t really seem possible, or even plausible that I’d actually done it. For years, I’d hidden at the back of our school choir so no one could see me on the stage, and I’d sung for a bar full of people? Mouse could never.

When I went back into the bedroom, Brooke had switched on the TV and was sitting on the couch watching Fox News. Which wasn’t like her.

‘Sorry, the bathroom’s all foggy,’ I said, rubbing my hair with a clean towel. ‘Give it five minutes and it should clear up.’

Brooke didn’t say anything.

‘Brooke?’

She was still wearing her black jeans and my top, staring at the TV, gripping the remote so hard her knuckles had turned white. A muscle was twitching in her jaw.

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