Page 2 of Off The Rush
“Of course you are,” Tessa insists, her hazel eyes twinkling with confidence. “But first, we need to make sure you look the part.”
Before I can ask what she means, Tessa disappears into her room across the hall and returns with an armful of clothes and makeup. She dumps everything on my bed and mutters to herself as she begins rifling through the items.
“Let’s see… this dress will show off your shoulders and hug your curves just right,” she muses, holding up a silky white dress. “And for makeup, let’s go with a natural look – you know, to highlight those stunning green eyes of yours.”
As she works her fashion magic, transforming me from a groggy mess into someone who looks like they belong on a stage, I can’t help but feel grateful for Tessa’s unwavering support. She has always been there for me, ever since we were little girls playing dress-up and dreaming about our futures.
“Remember when we used to put on shows in your backyard?” I ask, my mind drifting back to those carefree days. “You’d dress me up in your mom’s old clothes, and I’d sing my heart out while you danced around like a maniac.”
Tessa laughs at the memory. “Yeah, those were the days! We always knew we were destined for greatness, didn’t we?”
“Thanks to you,” I say, giving her a sincere smile. “You’ve always believed in me, Tess, even when I didn’t believe in myself.”
She shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but I could see the emotion shimmering in her eyes. “That’s what best friends are for, right?”
“Right,” I agree, feeling the love and gratitude swell in my chest. Best friends forever – it was a promise we’d made countless times over the years, and one I knew we’d always keep.
With Tessa’s help, I feel more confident than ever as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My makeup is flawless, and the outfit she chose makes me feel like a star.
“Alright,” I said, taking a deep breath and meeting Tessa’s gaze in the mirror. “Let’s do this.”
I leave the house and make my way across campus to the music building. My hands are shaking but when I can see the all-white exterior, I shove all my nerves to the side and force confidence to flood my body. I push my shoulders back and open the door, stepping inside the air-conditioned building.
The door to the auditorium is open and I can hear someone else singing a duet. They sound incredible but I don’t let that affect me.
I check the time on my phone and see I have fifteen minutes until my audition so I slip into a seat in the back and watch the two acts before me.
“Emma Delaney,” the dean of the college announces.
I stand up and smooth down my dress as I make my way up the steps of the stage before settling in front of the microphone.
“When you’re ready,” the dean says.
I open my mouth and sing. I’ve always been the type of person who thrives on passion. It is like a fire that burns within me, driving me to push my limits and become the best version of myself. And when it comes to singing, that passion consumes every ounce of my being.
I close my eyes and let the music guide me, feeling each note resonate deep within my soul. Over the years, I have poured countless hours into perfecting my craft, and now, it is as if my voice has finally become an extension of myself. The high notes that once seemed unattainable are now a natural part of my range, flowing effortlessly alongside the rest of the melody.
I am doing incredible when some idiot bangs through one of the side doors and draws everyone’s attention. I haven’t even gotten to my high note yet.
The crashing boom echoes through the room and the note dies in my throat as I stop and stare at him like everyone else.
With the lights shining I can’t see his face from the stage.
“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Clearly, I have interrupted something so I’m just going to sit down and you can pretend I’m not here.” His voice is silky smooth but it does nothing to calm my anger.
A chair squeaks and I assume he sits down.
“Should I continue?” I ask after a moment of uncomfortable silence.
I can see the dean from my spot on the stage but she’s staring over at the man still. I’m assuming she’s about to tear him apart for interrupting her auditions. She’s a stern woman, but she shocks me when her voice goes up an octave.
“Is that Alec Campbell? Oh, how wonderful. My husband is a huge fan and we’ve been to almost every Eastwood Knights hockey team home game. We are big fans of yours.”
She stands up and walks over to him as she speaks, leaving me standing on the stage completely unsure how to continue.
My mouth hangs open. I can’t believe this just happened. She left?
When the dean grabs him and exits the auditorium I turn to my mentor and favorite teacher, Professor Martin.
