Page 46 of Disharmony

Fuck this fucking place!

Fuck the Ashley Cooper they expect me to be!

Sweat drips down my forehead as the resentment leaves my body.

“Excuse me?”

A strange voice stops me mid-headbang. My neck snaps up. My hair is sticking to my face, and I brush the strands out of my eyes to see the person talking to me through my headphones. Someone is sitting in the mixing suite and peering through the glass separating us like they’re watching a science experiment.

I swallow hard.

It’s Zachary Royal. The Lionhearts front man.

* * *

I’m a hot mess. My body shakes from my outpouring anger, and I’m well aware that my mascara is smudged all over my face. It’s a good thing I’m not part of the Lionhearts fan club—theHeartiesas they like to call themselves.

“Do you need the room?” I ask lamely, dropping the sticks and standing, almost knocking over a precariously balanced guitar in the process. “It said it was free.”

What is he thinking? The golden boy of the most popular boy band has watched me lose my shit. Is this something he’ll report back to Jacqueline?

“I don’t need the room,” Zach says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “As a mentor, I like to see what campers are working on. Most people are grateful to have me around.”

I roll my eyes, unable to stop myself. He raises his eyebrows incredulously. Other people may be grateful to have a superstar in their midst, but he can keep his judgmental ass far away from me. He’s used to tweens passing out in front of him at concerts. That kind of fame gives people a god complex.

“I think I’m done here,” I say, heading for the door and hoping I can slip past him.

“Are you?” Zach presses. He walks through to join me in the recording space, blocking the only exit. He crosses his arms in a huffy way. What a diva. “Don’t you want my advice?”

Zach’s tall, around six foot three. He has sparkling blue eyes and reddish-brown hair, impeccably chiseled cheekbones and a jaw structure that wouldn’t look out of place in a superhero comic. He’s the kind of guy who looks famous. Even if he didn’t come from a family whose uteruses seem programmed to produce A-list spawns, Zach would have become a celebrity. Whateveritis, he has it.

“I shouldn’t be in here,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ears and trying to think how to get myself out of the situation without damaging the little reputation I have left. “What you heard me play was a one-off. It’s not what I usually play.”

He cocks his head to the side, looking at me in a way that makes me want to hide under my hair until he returns to his worshipping minions. “That was some song.”

“Yeah, well…” My voice trails off. “Some people have an eclectic taste.”

He laughs, taking me by surprise. His laugh is warm and deep, a real belly laugh that comes from the pit of his stomach. When he’s finished, he asks, “You’re a vocalist, aren’t you?”

“I’m a backing singer for Tiffany in the final show,” I say, then mutter sarcastically under my breath, “but I’m sure she has already told you all about that.”

Zach ignores my remark. Why am I suddenly being so bitter and defensive? I rarely sing the Basilisks covers in front of anyone—mainly because Dad or Brick never want to hear them—but knowing Zach has seen me perform as the real Ash makes me uneasy.

“How do you feel about being a backing singer?” Zach probes.

“How do I feel about it?” I plant my hands on my hips. “How do you think I feel about it? People don’t come to Camp Harmony to be a backing singer, but I expect you’ll tell me to be grateful for being included in the final show at all. Someone like you doesn’t get it.”

Zach frowns. “Someone like me?”

Have I overstepped?

“You were never a backing singer when you were here,” I say, trying to recover.

“No, but I’m in a band,” Zach replies. “Bands work as a team. We all have our part to play. I may be the one who is center stage, but it doesn’t make what the others do any less important. You should think about it that way.”

I scoff. “I’m not sure pretending to be one of the Lockets is going to help, but thanks for the advice.”

“Ashley.” My ears prick up. I hadn’t told him my name. He clears his throat and continues, “It is Ashley, isn’t it? The girl from the video?”

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