Page 67 of Before We're More Than Friends
“You see,” Hayden said, folding his hands on the table as if he were a school principal asking me to do something, “we don’t have a lead singer.”
I blinked so hard that my eyes almost watered. “You can’t be serious,” I said, anxiety rising in my chest. “You’ve heard me sing one lyric, Hayden.” Maybe he’d heard me singing to the animals at the shelter, but even that wasn’t the best representation of my voice.
“Sheesh, not everything is about you.” Hayden rolled his eyes.
“Oh.” My cheeks grew hot. “Sorry.”
He bit his lip as he collected my pages.
I sighed. “You were going to ask me to do it, anyway, weren’t you?”
He dropped his hands on the table. “But you’re so good!”
“You’ve never even heard me sing a full song.” I shook my head. “I know you’re desperate, but this isn’t how you ask someone on a date.”
“Maybe I should take a few tips from Oliver,” he muttered. “But seriously?—”
“Hayden.” I reached for my milkshake, though the idea of singing made me sick to my stomach. “It’s not happening. There are other people so much better for that role.”
He sighed. “Well, it was worth a try.”
“Thank you.” I had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last of this, but there was no way I could start singing again. I used to love playing the guitar, but I got so nervous doing it in front of other people. The last time I’d tried was for a talent show in seventh grade, which resulted in me dropping my guitar and bolting off the stage, seconds away from pissing myself.
That type of stage fright happened to second graders, notseventhgraders.
“Still think about it, though,” Hayden said as he ate his croissants.
I grunted. “You really can’t take rejection.”
He let out a soft chuckle. “Too bad there’s a spark between us.”
CHAPTER 18
Raina
Going back to school the Tuesday after my dad’s arrest was as miserable as I’d expected. People stared at me like I was half-dressed as I walked down the halls, making it obvious that they were whispering about me. A few classmates and teachers gave me genuine apologies, that dreaded look of pity in their eyes. I thanked them for caring, secretly hating it.
It was like my dad had died.
Well, his reputation had. I was now the daughter of Manuel Vermont, criminal millionaire of April Springs. Fantastic.
I reached my breaking point at lunch. Gracelynn’s less-than-kind dance teammate, Tracey Simmons, sat at the table next to us and told her friends all about my dad’s scandal.
“I always thought the Vermonts were strange,” she whisper-shouted, knowing we were listening. “Like, it was kind of suspicious that their dad was so successful, you know?”
“I wonder what other secrets he’s hiding from his family,” a bleach-blonde said. “Men always keep more than one.”
Tracey scoffed. “Please, he probably has a second wife inanother state. He’s been lying about his taxes to have more money to support her.”
“It’s probably your mom since she’s always in affairs with married men,” Gracelynn snapped, causing a few heads to turn.
Tracey’s cheeks flushed as if she was surprised we could hear her. “Obsessed much?”
Now Gracelynn scoffed. “Says the girl who’s talking crap about my friends. Don’t you have hobbies, like coming up with ways to cover your big forehead?”
Arielle and I snorted.
Tracey grumbled something I couldn’t hear. She flipped us off and left the table with her friends, the heat on her face still present.
