Page 32 of Seven Lost Summers
She plucks a few strings and my confidence caves in on itself. This isn’t just stage fright. It’s the brutal awareness that I don’t belong here.
For years, I’ve convinced myself I could do this, that I belonged in this world. That music wasn’t something I clung to, but something that lived in me too. But now, with her standing across from me, that lie unravels.
She’s about to hear me play, and nothing in me seems ready. I’m seconds away from every flaw laid bare, every ounce of fake confidence stripped down to what I really am — someone who’s been bluffing his way through all of it. One wrong note and the whole thing will fall apart. Every hesitation, every rushed chord, every slip of my fingers will give me away. She’ll hear it all. She’ll see I don’t belong in her world and exactly how much of a goddamn joke I really am.
I swallow hard, jaw tight, and grab the amp cable, shoving it toward her before I can think too much about it.
She takes it without hesitation, fingers brushing mine for half a second before she plugs it into her guitar.
The amp hums to life.
Nate pushes up from the bed and crosses the room, stepping behind his drum kit near the window.
He doesn’t sit. Doesn’t even glance at his sticks. Simply stands there, eyes locked on me.
He knows something’s off. Known me long enough to recognize when something shifts. There’s no hiding it from him, not when he can read me better than I read myself. This isn’t nerves, and he can see that. He knows I’m completely fucked up over this.
“So what songs do you play?” Nate asks.
She shrugs, adjusting her guitar strap with the same calm confidence that never seems to crack. “Anything you want to play, shout it out and I’ll see if I know it.”
Nate nods, casual as ever, but his eyes flick to me for half a second before turning back to her. “Theo and I have been working on Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes. Are you familiar with it?”
For the first time since she walked in, something eases. Relief creeps in. Nate fucking knew I needed this. Something solid that doesn’t make my stomach churn.
I know that song better than I know my own goddamn name. We’ve run it so many times I could play it in my fucking sleep.
All I hope now is that she knows it.
I turn my attention to Bianca.
She meets my eyes and then fucking smiles.
“Yeah,” she says, fingers flexing over the strings like she’s already halfway inside the song. “It’s one of my favorites.”
And just like that, something inside me finally fucking breathes.
Nate grabs his drumsticks and drops into his seat, spinning one in his fingers like he’s already hearing a crowd scream his name. Cocky fuck. Could probably fall into a trash can and still stick the landing with a wink and a drum solo.
I head for my bass, trying to act like my heart isn’t currently stage-diving without a safety net.
My hands are sweaty as I slip the strap over my neck. It settles across my shoulder and I take a step back. Not towards Bianca, but just out of range of whatever spell she’s fucking casting with those fingers.
Nate’s smirk is already locked and loaded.
“You gonna plug it in, genius?” he asks, eyebrow raised.
I glance down at the bass, still unplugged. “Nah. Figured I’d go acoustic today.”
He chuckles, tapping a stick against his thigh. “Bold move.”
“Wait ‘til you see the interpretive footwork I’ve planned. Shit’s gonna change lives.”
Nate shakes his head, grinning. “Just plug it in, rockstar.”
Bianca laughs, and straight away Nate and I both snap our heads toward her. Fuck. She’s smiling at me.
“You’ve got good timing, Theo,” she says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Sharp mouth too. I like that.”
