Chapter Seven
LYRIC
The Next Night
Chase didn’t waste any time getting our date underway. I feel like this is moving along relatively fast, but I guess if I’m only searching for a good time, then I may as well get straight to it.
I’m FaceTiming my little sister, Aria, as I prance around my room, trying to figure out what to wear. Something to let Chase know I’m down, but nothing that screams, ‘Hey, I’m trying to be a slut.’
No, I don’t want that.
I hold up a little black dress to my body, showing Aria, while I admire the choice in the mirror.
Then I hear Aria giggle. “God no, Lyri. Are you trying to bore him to death?”
I grimace, throwing it on the bed with a huff before I drop down on the mattress. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Aria. I haven’t been on a date, a real date, in so long. I mean, I’m taking advice from my baby sister for crying out loud.”
Aria exhales. “Exactly why you need to get back out there. It’s been, what?
Five years since Zane? He’s long gone, Lyri.
By the sounds of it, this Chase guy is nothing like Zane.
He actually seems pretty cool. So, why do you plan on throwing yourself at him and not testing the waters first with this guy to see if it could be the start of something is beyond me. ”
My jaw jerks from side to side as I mull over what she’s said. “Zane lied to me, Aria. He had another girlfriend. It still makes me physically ill to even think about it.”
Her highly made-up face falls. “I know, babe. But you think every man out there is going to do the exact same thing? Give Chase a shot. Let him screw it up in his own way.”
I snort out a laugh. “Great pep talk there, sis. Even you think we’re doomed.”
“I don’t. I was joking. But seriously, don’t fling yourself at him. It will turn him off. You might be throwing something amazing away. Just let it play out how it will. Trust me. I might be the baby of this family, but I’m also the wisest one. Go figure!”
Aria twists and tilts her head like this is a photoshoot instead of just a FaceTime call, black eyeliner smudged thick around her eyes, shadowed so dark it could swallow the light.
Her lips are stained deep purple, the kind of color that dares you to look twice.
The nose ring glints when she tilts her head, same as mine, we got them together, but somehow hers screams grunge while mine still whispers rookie.
Her hair, dyed black and knotted into loose dreadlocks, has a streak of rebellion woven through it in the form of a single purple ribbon.
Every inch of her says she’s not just playing at rock ’n’ roll, she’s living it.
Me? I’m the opposite side of the coin.
My hair’s a tangle of sun-streaked waves, more beach-boho than grunge rebellion, and standing next to Aria, you’d never guess we share blood, let alone matching nose rings.
She channels the family’s music legacy through sweat and drumsticks, her rough-edged voice cutting through like it belongs on stage.
Me? I wear the same history differently, quieter, softer, like a melody that slips through the cracks when no one’s paying attention.
Then there’s Clef, stuck right in the middle of us like the chord that ties a whole song together.
He picked up a guitar at thirteen and never put it down, fingers always chasing riffs the rest of us couldn’t keep up with.
Now he’s off somewhere on the other side of the world, stringing out solos on a stage in Tokyo or Seoul, the indie-rock golden boy who turned garage noise into a passport.
I should be proud, and I am, but sometimes the silence he leaves behind feels louder than the music. I miss him more than I’ll ever admit out loud.
My family—the musical magicians.
Not me, though.
I thought about it for a short time.
But Zane? Yeah, he was my tipping point.
I was wavering, trying to decide where my life should focus.
Then I met him.
Lead singer of Hazardous.
Sex god.
Rock god.
I was burned alive until I was nothing but a pile of ash floating away with the coldest of winds.
A shell.
An empty void.
Because he promised me the world, and all he delivered was regret.
I thought for a moment, a brief moment, I could have made it in that music world. The world where my parents and siblings belong. A world I was made for.
Zane told me my voice was like an angel, an angel crafted by the gods themselves. He told me he’d never heard anyone sing like I could. He needed me on a track, so we recorded a duet. I even went on stage at his concerts and sang along with him.
The lights.
The crowd.
It was euphoric.
I understand the rush my family gets from it all. But it all turned to shit when I found out Zane had another girlfriend. At the same damn time, we were together.
I couldn’t perform with him anymore.
I didn’t want to be around him anymore.
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 be that girl 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 about him and 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.
My drum 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 can feel it.”
His orange eyes meet mine as he shakes his fluffy head from side to side. “Rawrr… get stuffed, get stuffed.”
I bite my lips together while holding the apple to his face.
He slowly brings his foot up to take it.
Then he wraps his claw around the piece of apple.
Bingo. My chest squeezes in hope as he brings it to his mouth.
He takes a bite, and elation flows through me as my heart hammers in my chest with pride that he’s finally going to eat properly.
Then he promptly spits it right back at me, the small chunk hitting me square in the chest.
I groan as he drops the slice of apple to the floor.
“Ha… ha… ha…” he lets out, fluffing up like he’s proud of himself.
I flick the piece of wet apple from the top of my cleavage as I glare at him. “I swear, Polly, one day… one day I will get you to eat your damn apples.”
He lets out a loud squawk. “Rawrr… seeds,” he replies, nudging the bowl of apple slices aside to get to his seeds.
“You’re going to have to eat apples, Polly Parton, so help me God. Or you’re going to get way too fat eating only seeds. You’ve gotta have your fruit. The vet’s gonna kill me if I can’t get you to eat it.”
“Rawrr… fuck off.”
I focus my gaze on him. “I’m going to punch Clef for teaching you how to swear.”
“Rawrr… love you,” Polly adds, sucking up.
This bird, really?
“Eat your damn fruit,” I demand, turning for the living room to grab my bag.
I hear a clang and turn to see that Polly has pushed the apple container to the bottom of his cage.
His head is facing away from me like he knows he’s done the wrong thing and is waiting for me to retaliate, but I know if I don’t leave now, I’m going to be late.
“Urgh, you’re lucky I love you, Polly. Now behave. Have a good night,” I tell him while grabbing my bag as he ruffles up his feathers.
I walk out to my truck, nerves hitting me like a tidal wave. I haven’t done this in so long. I’m rusty. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
I guess I just need to play it cool. I mean, I’ve spent hours alone with Chase already, and it’s not like I don’t know how to talk to the guy.
So, relax, Lyri.
I slide into the truck and make my way to the restaurant off Obama Boulevard.
Here goes nothing.