Chapter 35
“Five minutes,” the stage manager calls, making us all jump.
“Christ, I’m nervous,” Harry says, pulling on his collar. “This feels a bit bigger than usual, no?”
“I feel it too,” Skull grumbles from the corner, tapping his sticks against his thighs.
“The crowd looks massive,” Kale adds, craning his neck to see around the sound equipment and up the stairs we’re sequestered behind.
Deja beams at us. “Y’all are gonna kill it.”
“Unless the panic kills me first,” Darcy mumbles, cracking her fingers with her thumb as she paces.
“I’m really proud of us,” I blurt out. Everyone turns to look at me, and I cringe. I’m not one for motivational speeches, but I feel like I need to say this. “Like, really proud. We’ve done something pretty incredible with the hand we were dealt.”
I look around at the band, my friends, and slowly they each nod in agreement. I want to say more, I could write an entire book on how lucky I feel to know them, but the stage manager is back, his hurried tone interrupting my thoughts.
“Two minutes,” he says. “Please come with me.”
We file up the steps and hover behind the giant curtain, the humid, sunny day beating on our shoulders. We’re a late-afternoon show, the bigger bands closing out the night. The crowd is loud all the same, and we hear their cheers and chatter from our spot at the base of the stage.
“Maybe you know their folky sound from the backdrop of your moody social media posts … or maybe you know them from a certain juicy love triangle,” the emcee says, the audience erupting in screams. “Regardless of how you found them, they are one of the hottest bands of the summer to follow. So give it up for Tea Time Tantrum!”
We run onstage to the booms of cheers, taking our spots and waving at the giant crowd.
The sun digs into our skin, and I squint, taking in the enormity of what we’re doing, the sheer number of people here to listen to us play.
We pick up our instruments and the world pauses for half a second—everything going still and silent as our eyes meet from where we’re spread across the stage.
Each of our faces is etched with the same thought: Holy shit, how did we get here?
Then, with a deep, shared breath, reality rushes back in—the heat and the sun and the screams—and we do what we do best.
We start to play.
Because we aren’t a headlining act, our set is shorter than usual, but I’m glad for that, as we’ve poured everything we have into each note.
Harry and I share a mic as we sing the final verses on our second-to-last song.
The energy is electric, and while our performance isn’t perfect, it’s one for the books.
The notes fade, and the audience cheers. Harry drops his forehead to mine, both of us breathing hard, as we take it all in. There’s an eruption of screams.
He pulls away and his smile is knowing. He tucks his lips against his teeth like he can barely hold back the secret.
Like he can’t wait for the world to hear it.
My heart twists up into my throat, and I have to check the impulse to hug him.
I might not love Harry romantically, but I love him just as deeply, just as genuinely.
And I know he loves me back in equal measure.
He retreats back to his keyboard, and I’m left alone at the front with the mic, bare-boned and raw, my guitar the only protection from the mass of eyes staring at me.
My pulse pounds in every joint, blood rushing in my ears as I look at the sea of people, all of them waiting for me to fulfill the role they cast me in. I clear my throat and lean in.
“You all were promised a new love song tonight,” I say, and the screams are so loud, it’s like I’m blasted out of my body.
A small quiver runs through my frame as I try to find steady ground. I turn to my left, gaze locking with those midnight-blue eyes. In an ocean of a million people, Darcy will always be the one I land on.
“I’ve been thinking about love a lot lately,” I say into the mic, eyes still fixed on my best friend. The audience whoops, and my stomach dips in response. I start strumming my guitar, giving my nervous fingers something to do.
“Been thinking about it more than I’d like, if I’m being honest.” I glance at the crowd, hoping, at least for a moment, they really listen to what I have to say. “See, I was forced to suffer the aftermath of a breakup very publicly. Very embarrassingly.”
No whoops this time, and I physically feel the energy dim. I don’t care. It’s everyone else’s turn to be uncomfortable. I keep plucking some basic chords.
“Love, I’m learning, is never what you expect it to be.” I turn back to Darcy, and she’s beaming at me, heart on her sleeve. I give her a quick wink.
“You search for it in the places you think you’re supposed to find it, twisting until you break your back to fit what you think it’s supposed to look like.”
The sun and the spotlights are heavy. I close my eyes for a moment, Darcy’s face burned into my retinas.
“But that’s not real love,” I say into the mic.
“Love doesn’t hurt you. It doesn’t break you down into pieces with sharp edges that are impossible to carry.
Real love, true love, strips you bare and holds you close, never asking you to be more than the person you already are. ”
I play the first few notes to our new song, preparing my fingers.
“You all were promised a love song,” I repeat, my voice rough as I turn back to the audience. “You were given hints that it was about a certain Irish fella with blue eyes that would tempt Jesus to sin.”
The crowd cheers, hooking back on to my words, safe ground to fulfill their fantasy of what my relationships should look like. A small echo of Harry’s name rolls through the venue.
“Well, this is a love song,” I say, a laugh in my voice. “It’s probably my favorite song I’ve ever written.”
I clear my throat, trying to calm my racing heart as I give words to the important part.
“But it’s not about a boy.” A small murmur rumbles through the crowd, and I let their questions build.
“It’s about the person I love the most. The person I don’t want to spend a day without.
In fact, that person helped me write it, helped me pluck every word from my scribbly brain and create something beautiful.
” I strum another few chords. “That person is Darcy Burton. She’s my muse and my torment and my best friend and the love of my life. And this song is for her.”
With one more deep breath, the noise of the crowd sinking away, I step up to the mic and start to sing.
Heartbeat flicker of the twin flame,
So lost in you, can’t remember my own name,
But that’s okay. I don’t need it anyway.
I’ll wear yours no matter what they say.
My eyes are fixed on her, only her. It will always be for her.
You’re my anchor, my heart, my crush.
Quick rush, slow burn, each twist, each turn
Led me to your door …
You’re the only home I need anymore.
My fingers dance along the neck of my guitar. The band waits another verse, then joins in. Skull first. Then Kale. Harry’s keyboard rounding off the sound as I continue through the song.
You are the storm, you are the fire,
Breathe me in, fuel my desires.
Darcy stares at me as I continue to sing, her lips parted and tears in her eyes, hands limp at her sides as her bass section comes and goes. I grin at her.
You dance us across the tightrope,
I beg, don’t drop my heart of hope.
The verses loop twice, then we flow into the bridge, and I take a shaky breath as I open up the vein. I love you, I mouth before I lay it all out there.
And you know I slice through life like a knife.
My pain is impatient and I get complacent.
Pacing my room all too consumed
Of how I’ll mess up and lose you.
But you hold me close, you fight off my ghosts,
And tell me, baby, it’ll be okay.
And this time I don’t overthink it,
I chain up my demons, we dive in the deep end.
The music slows and quiets, my voice coming from some part deep inside of me.
Because, for once, my happiness isn’t pretend.
I strum the chord progression again, singing the chorus one last time, playing the final notes. The music fades, tears rolling down my cheeks. Even from here, I can tell Darcy is crying too.
It takes me a moment to process the sound that breaks around us like a wave crashing on the shore, loud and forceful.
It’s applause.
I flinch as I reenter the world, eyes scanning the crowd of intruders, their unexpected cheers at me handing my heart over to the girl I love.
My gaze flashes back to Darcy’s spot, needing to see her, needing to be anchored back in our connection.
But she’s already at my side, lips wobbling as she stares at me with those big blue eyes.
Then she smiles, the moment splitting open, my heart erupting into a thousand butterflies.
I take the two steps separating us, one hand snaking to her lower back, the other dragging through her hair, cradling the back of her head.
Our eyes lock, happy tears streaming down our cheeks.
“I love you,” she whispers, voice shaky.
“I love you.” I say each word with conviction, using my thumb to tilt her chin up.
Then I kiss her. For all the world to see.