Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
STEVIE
Today is the day. Callbacks. The day I have been waiting for, for weeks, is finally here.
I’m sitting in the hall where everyone’s waiting to get called on. Brad is next to me, tuning his guitar, and I can’t help but look over at him every five seconds. I already read with one of the directors earlier, that’s always the easiest part for me. Singing is still a challenge.
Why did we need to make the song so complex?
“You’re going to give yourself an aneurysm there.” Brad winks at me when I stick my tongue out. “Have you spoken to any of your friends today? Maybe they can ease your nerves.”
Brad stays focused on his guitar, and I know he’s referring to Levi since he’s the only person I’ve been texting during our rehearsals.
It’s been a little less than a week since the fight between him and Andrew.
We haven’t seen each other much due to my being with Brad on campus till the wee hours of the night, fine-tuning everything so it goes seamlessly.
Brad’s going to be onstage with me, and he had to make sheet music for the rest of the band.
Honestly, I couldn’t have done this without him. Yet I can’t help but wonder if the amount of time I spend with Brad is the reason Levi’s been in his bedroom every night I’ve gotten back. That is, except for Saturday, when he didn’t come home.
I was deep into rehearsal with Brad after we had a light lunch, and someone working on the show was picking up our sheet music, when I got a text.
Levi: Hey, staying at Em and Kami’s tonight. Don’t get nervous when I don’t make an appearance for brunch ;)
It was sweet that he’d let me know. I barely wrote a response before Brad had given me notes on some things we still needed to work on.
Me: Thanks for letting me know. You’ll be missing out on eggs Benedict.
He only answered with a crying and heartbroken emoji.
It’s Monday now, and I haven’t seen him since Friday.
It’s odd how two people can live in the same place and rarely see each other.
Levi and I have polar-opposite schedules.
He’s teaching when I’m at home, or he leaves early on the one day I happen to be leaving late.
We keep each other updated like any regular roommates would, except with some flirting here and there.
He sent me a “break a leg” text earlier.
Simple and to the point, like a friend would, except we made it crystal clear that we couldn’t go back to being just friends.
Correction, he said we were never just friends, which makes this so confusing.
The truth is, I’m scared and exhausted. What happened between us was big for me, and the fact that we aren’t together makes it even more confusing.
“Stephanie Winters and Brad Miller,” a woman calls out from the auditorium door. My heart drops to the pit of my stomach.
Brad takes my hand. “You’ve got this, Stevie. The hard work will pay off. You’ve. Got. This.” As we both stand, he gives me a nod. His confident look allows me to take in a deep breath, and I return the nod as we march into the auditorium.
Almost everything is the same as it was in the auditions. The same judges and stage, except now there are drummers, violinists, a pianist, and even cellos.
They went all out.
I’m not the first performer of the day. I heard some auditions from outside, but I guess not everyone is using all the instruments at once. Every person who auditioned was offered a list of instruments they needed for their song, hence all the ones available onstage.
For some reason, Brad said yes to the violinists, the drummer, and the pianist when I read him the email.
I decided to go with the flow and allowed him to write them back, knowing it would sound better with the extra instruments.
But being up here now, it doesn’t feel intimate like the song we wrote is supposed to be.
Once I step in front of the mic, I announce myself, the part I’m auditioning for, and the title of my original song.
Brad begins strumming the first chords as the drums start, counting down until I join in.
Closing my eyes, I allow the sound of the instruments to flow through me, and I belt out the first notes.
I go from belting to using my head voice, and when the chorus hits, the drummer takes off, making my eyes pop open.
This time, I smile, glancing back at the player who’s focused on the song but looks like he’s having a great time.
Then the violins and piano join in, and holy shit, people are playing a song that I cowrote.
The thought alone gives me more confidence as we go into the bridge and Brad plays the tiniest of solos before I belt the highest note, and the drummer goes halftime.
Every time I sing, it feels different. Each song is different.
This one, although meaningful, is fun. After days of practicing, I’m having fun, and that’s a major part of the character’s personality.
The lyrics tell my story—the heartbreak and the healing.
After the bridge that took me weeks to write ends, one more chorus passes, and I lighten my voice with the final verse while the drummer stops abruptly, the violins drift off, the pianist finishes, and Brad plays the last strings.
Looking back, I find Brad smiling and nodding, a reassuring sign that everything went perfectly. My shoulders slump in relief.
“Thank you, Stevie. We’ll be contacting everyone during spring break,” one of the producers says, and I may or may not be hallucinating, because I believe one of the directors is smiling.
“Thank you,” I say quickly and run off the stage with Brad on my tail.
We reach the lobby, and I turn to him, both of us silent. Next thing I know, I’m giggling like a schoolgirl, jumping, and clapping because, whether or not I get the part, people played a song I wrote.
Brad picks me up by the waist. “That was fucking awesome. You killed it!”
“Me?” He sets me down. “You looked like a damn rock star up there.”
He laughs. “Hey, that could’ve scored you some points, right?”
Nodding, I don’t correct him because, yes, Brad is charming and has a way with people.
“Seriously, Brad, thank you.”
As I pat his shoulder, he looks at my hand, then back at my face. “Go on a date with me.”
My hand stills, and I feel the color drain from my face. “W-what?”
Brad takes my hand and clears his throat. “Let me phrase that a little better.” This can’t be happening. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”
My mouth can’t seem to form any words, it feels like I’m short-circuiting. He looks at me with his big brown eyes, pure patience and hope lining them. A swirl of indecisive feelings pounds through me.
Levi and I sixty-nined last week, he confessed that he wanted me, kind of, sort of. Did he admit that? He wants me sexually and likes me in that way, but he still hasn’t told me whether he has feelings for me.
We aren’t exclusive. In fact, right now, I don’t know what we are.
So, what’s stopping me?
LEVI
Fuck, she looks amazing up there. So free and happy. This is something she’s wanted for so long, and now she has it. Nobody needs to tell me that she’s gotten the part, I know she has.
That woman is a bombshell, and I can’t wait to tell her exactly that once she gets off the stage.
I gave her space to rehearse and get through this while all of my annoying, but well-intentioned, friends convinced me to ask her out properly.
I’m not sure why the fuck I needed them to tell me to do it.
I knew in the back of my head since the first time we kissed that I would ask Stephanie Winters out one day. That day is today.
I jog lightly, holding a small bouquet of fresh lavender in my hand. It took four different stores to find a bouquet, but I found one. If I’m doing this, I have to do it right, and that starts with her favorite flowers. Turning, I reach the corner of the lobby.
“Would you like to go on a date with me?” My feet stop moving so quickly that I almost trip over my sneakers. Leaning over, I see what I’d been fearing since they started working together. Brad is standing in front of Stevie, holding her hand, waiting for her response.
I clench my fists, wanting to bash the fucker’s face in.
He beat me to the punch. Of course he did.
He’s had more time alone with her than I have, and we live together.
I’m surprised he didn’t ask sooner with his reputation.
Honestly, I thought he’d tried to hump and dump, but by the look he’s giving her, he likes Stevie. Genuinely likes Stevie.
She won’t say yes. She had me in her mouth a few days ago—
“Can I think about it?” Her voice is small, but the response still hits me like a gunshot.
Those five words drown out all the other noise in the room, and I know I’ve lost my chance.
How bad would it look if I went up and handed her these flowers in front of him?
I know it’d end badly, possibly in a fight, and after what happened to Stevie last week, there’s no fucking way I’m making that mistake again.
This is what I get for waiting. I deserve this. My friends were right.
If he is what she wants, I won’t stop her. She deserves to be happy. Stevie deserves everything.
But if the asshole hurts her, I’ll kill him.
STEVIE
“And he asked you out? Just like that?”
“Yeah, he wants to take me to the movies.” I reach the end of campus, approaching King’s Wolf to walk down the rest of the way home. After Brad asked me out, I told him I’d think about it and immediately dialed Jenny’s number for help.
“And you didn’t say yes because?”
My best friend doesn’t know the details of what happened between Levi and me last week.
She knows about our first kiss, but that’s about it.
We haven’t had much time to talk, with both of us being so busy.
In her head, Levi and I made one stupid, hormonal mistake.
She’s oblivious to the way we’ve been flirting, what he’s said to me, and what we did. So, I tell her everything.
“Hold the motherfucking phone, S. Levi did all of that and hasn’t asked you out yet?”
I shrug, now reaching the door of my building. “We’ve been busy. It’s not like I’ve said much either.”
Jenny throws what sounds like a utensil in her sink. “Bull. I call bull. He called Brad the fuck boy. Maybe he was projecting.” Jenny can get a little overprotective when it comes to me.
“Jenn—”
“Do you like him?”
Pausing and closing my eyes, I admit the truth. “Yeah, I do.”
Silence follows on the line, followed by a long exhale. “Oh, S, I don’t want you to get hurt again—”
“I know, Jenn—”
“Which is exactly why you’re going to march your ass up to your apartment, find Levi, and tell him how you feel,” she says as if she’s a coach hyping up their player.
“What?” I ask, confused. Team Brad one second and Team Levi the next?
She hums. “You heard me. See how he reacts. The worst he can say is no, and then you can move on and stop with the back-and-forth. Go and be the bad bitch I know you are.”
Snorting, I nod. “You’re the best, Jenn.”
“Best friend, best hype man, just best person all around, I know.”
We laugh. “Love you, J.”
“Love you, S. Let me know how it goes.”
After we end the call, I look at my apartment windows. Both of our bedroom windows and the living room window can be seen from here. All of them except mine are on, meaning he’s home.
“Be a bad bitch, be a bad bitch,” I repeat to myself as a couple walks by. I wave awkwardly. “Have a good night.”
Time to go up before I lose my nerve.
Turning the key to my apartment, I find Levi flipping through an issue of Rolling Stone magazine in his pajamas.
I take my coat off. “Hey.”
He gives me a tight smile. “Hey.” Levi goes back to flipping the pages.
That’s it? “Aren’t you going to ask me how callbacks went?”
My roommate takes a gummy bear from the bag we both share, and says, “I don’t have to.”
At that, I cross my arms. Um, rude. “Okay…”
“I was there.” He pops another gummy in and continues to read whatever is so damn interesting on the page. What? He was there? When? “You did a good job, it was a great song. You and Brad should be proud.”
His voice is completely indifferent. I don’t expect a party or anything, but the last time he saw me sing, he fingered me in a closet as a reward.
Tired of seeing him mindlessly turn the pages, I rip the magazine out of his hands. Finally, he looks at me, nothing but more indifference shining in those stupid, pretty blue eyes.
“Why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t you come and say hi afterward?”
He stands, towering over me. The smell of his clean-scented cologne surrounds me. Memories of us in bed flash through my mind, taking me away from the argument for a second, but Levi’s words steer me back in.
“I didn’t want to interrupt. You and Brad seemed to be having a private moment.”
Levi walks away to the kitchen. So, he saw us? Great.
“Levi—”
“He seems to like you, Stevie.” He opens one of the cabinets and grabs a glass. “You should go out on that date with him.”
My mouth falls open. He heard that? Shitty, shit, shit.
“Levi—”
“Give the guy a chance.” He sets his glass down and pours juice into one of the purple cups I bought before moving in.
Taking a step forward, I tilt my head. Maybe this is some sort of prank or test. I haven’t dated in a while, but this doesn’t seem like a healthy way to start something new. “And you don’t mind if I go out on a date with him tomorrow?”
Levi’s shoulders slump, and he meets my eyes. There’s a flash of something so fast I don’t have time to decipher what it is. “No.”
He isn’t joking. That one word is all it takes to confirm what Jenny told me to. The worst thing he can say is no.
Well, Jenn, he said it.
With that, Levi leaves for his room and shuts his door while I’m left here standing baffled, wounded, and angry. What happened to my friend? To the man who was texting me over the weekend and flirting with me last week?
Tears threaten to fall, but I refuse to let them.
Fine. I’m not going to remain here wallowing over someone who wasn’t man enough to tell me everything he was feeling. He had days, hell, weeks to ask me out before Brad did. Enough is enough.
Me: What time are you picking me up tomorrow?
Brad: Is seven good?
Me: See you then.