Page 123 of Broken Romeo
He winks, then disappears into the crowd.
My heart pounds in my throat as I take my place at the microphone and I slide a look to Nolan, whispering, “I don’t think I can do this.”
“You can,” he says, his hand covering the microphone. “You have to.”
Amy’s fingers dance over the keys of the piano, and the opening riff causes my heart to stutter clumsily against my ribs. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, wrapping my hand around the base of the microphone.
It’s just another rehearsal. It’s just another rehearsal.
As I sing, I focus on my breath. On my support. On the lift of my soft palate and the resonance of the sound. I cling to the emotions around the notes and in my words, pouring my soul into every vowel, every consonant, until I’m singing the final note—ending strong with Nolan singing the harmony.
Applause roars through the room. Opening my eyes, I exhale, as the nervous tension from performing melts from my shoulders.
Before I can react to the standing ovation and whistles from the crowd surrounding us, Nolan clasps his hand in mine and whispers, “Take your bow, Katie.”
Every set of eyes at the party is fixed on me as I dip into a small curtsy. But it’s only one set of eyes I’m searching for in the crowd—Holden’s. And it’s the one set I can’t seem to find.
And then I see him. Standing to the side of the crowd… with Missy. Although they aren’t touching, they’re close. And talking. Or rather, she’s talking. Holden’s listening intently.
She lifts a hand and brushes her thumb to his bottom lip in a gesture so intimate that it knocks the air from my lungs.
Push her hand away, push her hand away, I think to myself, trying to will it to happen.
But Holden doesn’t. He just stands there and lets her caress his face like he’s hers to touch.
It’s a sucker punch, and yet, even I can admit I’m not all that surprised to see it. If history always repeats itself, then a betrayal from Holden shouldn’t be a shock to anyone. Least of all, me.
Nolan sweeps me into his arms, lifting me off the ground and spinning me in a tight embrace.
“That was fucking awesome,” he whispers in my ear.
Even though I’m numb on the inside, I hug him back as the warmth of a good performance floods my belly and collides with the cold realization of what I saw.
I close my eyes and let the applause and whistles from the audience feed my soul. Heal my wounds.
This is why I do this. This is why I put up with grueling auditions and tedious rehearsals and nepotism and heartbreak—the applause. The satisfaction of a good performance. The release of acting like someone else and pretending, if only for a few minutes, that these strong emotions that consume me aren’t my own.
“Ready for the encore?” Nolan asks.
My entire body clenches. “Encore?” No. No one mentioned I had to do two performances. “I can’t. I barely got through our one song—”
Nolan gently releases me to the floor. “Trust me. This one’s easy. And the crowd and the media are going to fucking love it. Don’t freak out. And remember, we’re just friends. This is acting.”
“What are you talking abou—”
Before I can finish the question, Nolan cups my jaw and draws my mouth to his, kissing me.
I barely have a moment to register the kiss when I feel Nolan jerk back away from me.
Holden’s voice snaps between us, and his fists clench into the lapels of Nolan’s jacket. “What the fuck are you doing, Brooks?”
“Dude, relax—” Nolan seems genuinely surprised and attempts to untangle himself from Holden’s grip.
“Holden, stop!” I cry just as his fist launches across Nolan’s jaw with a deafening crack.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Holden