Page 33 of Chasing Lyric
Any chance of record deals on my own went out the window. Refusing to perform your only song, a hit song at that, with the other artist kind of gives you a bad name in the industry, even though people didn’t really know me.
I was just a girl, with this one song, that one time.
It scared me.
For life.
The thought of singing again terrifies me to the core.
It’s why I never, ever want to bethatgirl again.
“Lyri? Lyri,” Aria yells down the line, snapping me back from my thoughts.
I glance at her worried face. “Shit! Sorry. I was a million miles away.”
She grimaces. “I know. I saw.Stop!Stop thinking abouthimand concentrate on this great new guy who could be amazing for you. Or not. Just don’t put pressure on it, Lyri. Have some fun.”
I internally pump myself up again for this date I’m looking forward to. Quickly, I grab a bright yellow dress out of the closet. “How ’bout yellow?”
Aria cheers a little too aggressively. “Fuck yeah! Now that’s what I’m talking about. Something to match your fun personality. Not the boring black, formal, and predictable bullshit.”
“Says the girl wearing boring, black bullshit,” I tease, pulling the yellow dress on over my white lace bra and leopard-print panties while Aria flips me the bird. “So, little sis, tell me… how are you enjoying touring?” I ask because this is her band’s first big break. They’re currently on a bus driving around North America.
She exhales. “Livin’ the dream. Our family is built for this, Lyri. You’ll remember that fact one day. Anyway, gotta go. Mydrum kit’s awaitin’. You know how my bandmates can get. Love you. Don’t fuck him tonight. At least wait for date two if you actually like him, okay? Be a good girl. Not a slut like me.” She laughs loudly.
“Aria!”
“Love you. Bye, big sis.”
“Bye, little sis.” I end the call and drift toward the mirror, trying not to feel like a contestant on some makeover show about to be judged. The yellow dress catches the light, easy and sun-bright, the kind of thing that says end-of-summer casual without screaming I spent an hour deciding. I slip into my flats, flexing my toes like I’m proving a point. I’m going for approachable, not prom queen.
In the bathroom, the reflection staring back is still me, just sharpened around the edges. My blonde curls spill loose down my back, soft and a little wild, the California sun having kissed my skin into a glow I’ll claim as natural. The nose ring glints when I tilt my head, a reminder that at least I can commit to something, even if it’s just a piece of metal through cartilage.
My makeup’s light, the kind of casual glow that takes longer than I’ll ever admit to nail. My eyes have just enough shadow to make them pop, like maybe he’ll notice without realizing why. I tug a few curls free and pin the rest half up, half down, like I can’t decide between carefree and effort, so I split the difference.
And still, the nerves hum underneath it all. Because what if Hallmark takes one look at me and sees right through the polish?
What if he catches me trying?
Or worse,what if he doesn’t notice at all?
I chew the inside of my cheek, steadying my breath.
It’s just Chase.
Gorgeous, infuriating Chase.
And I’m just me.
I step back, taking in the whole picture. Not all-out glam. Not careless either. Just me, spun a little tighter, heart running double-time. A melody tuned sharp and waiting, hoping, he’ll hear it.
I nod. “Better,” I tell myself as I turn, walking out to the sunroom.
“Rawrr…holy fuck,” Polly squawks, then wolf whistles as I walk past him to grab him some apple before I head out.
I place the pieces in a bowl, then take it over to his cage, positioning it at his feet. He promptly hisses at me, turning up his beak. With an exhale, I pick up a piece. “C’mon, Polly, just one slice? Today’s the day. I canfeelit.”
His orange eyes meet mine as he shakes his fluffy head from side to side. “Rawrr…get stuffed, get stuffed.”
