“Alyric Bliss?
“How’d you come up with that?” Nolan asks, unscrewing the cap from a bottle of water.
Lyric shrugs. “I just played with some words.”
“It has your name in it,” Sage points out with a bang of the symbol.
“So?” Lyric shrugs again. “My name is awesome.”
Sage considers the name, bobbing his head up and down. “I kind of like the sound of it.” He looks to Nolan, who shrugs.
“I’m good with it.” He takes a swig of water then sets the bottle down on the floor.
Sage glances at me. “What do you think?”
“I’m good with it.” I grab my guitar from Lyric.
“I’m also going to work on creating a band logo,” Lyric adds, cracking her knuckles. “Put my art talent to use.”
“You’re an artist?” Sage questions. “Since when?”
“Since forever,” Lyric replies. “My mom’s one, too.”
“A woman of many talents,” Sage muses thoughtfully as he taps a drumstick against the symbol.
“FYI, I put the A at the front of Alyric Bliss to stand for your name,” Lyric whispers to me when Sage isn’t paying attention. “Don’t say anything, though. Sage won’t use it if he knows. He’ll make us change it to an S.”
I can’t help laughing.
Sage raises the drumsticks in the air and hollers, “Alyric Bliss.” He moves to slam the drumsticks down, but freezes when the door swings open.
“Dad?” Lyric rises to her feet as Mr. Scott walks in. “What are you doing here?”
Sage’s eyes widen and his lips part, completely star stuck by the sight of the retired rocker. Nolan seems a little more at ease, but he still gapes.
Mr. Scott briefly glances at me, and I feel like somehow he knows what I was doing with his daughter, even though there’s no way he possibly could. Our parents are clueless about our stolen kisses and heavy making out. If they did know, I’m sure they’d start making us keep our bedroom doors open when we’re together and stop allowing Lyric to occasionally fall asleep in my bed.
Mr. Scott tears his attention off me and focuses on Lyric. “You said I needed to see you play. That, if I did, I would be begging for you to be in my lineup.” He drops down in a fold-up chair near the door, reclines back, and folds his arms. “So let’s see your awesomeness.”
Lyric looks at me helplessly. She’s terrified of messing up, of her stage fright, of not impressing her father.
With my guitar still in hand, I step behind her and lean over her shoulder. “You’ve got this,” I whisper, grazing my finger along the inside of her wrist. “It’s just like the first time you sang in front of Sage. Pretend it’s only you in the room.”
She turns her head toward me, our lips almost touching. “Can I pretend you’re in the room with me?”
I nod as my heart swells in my chest. Her words pierce my soul. How much she trusts me. How much I want her to trust me. How much I’m pretty sure we’re not just friends anymore.
We’re so much more.
Chapter 10
Lyric
I feel like I’m going to throw up as I raise the microphone to my mouth and prepare to sing in front of my dad. I’d rather run out the door and hide. What keeps my feet planted on the floor is what Ayden whispered in my ear.
Just him and me in the room.
No one else is here.
No one at all.
No one.
No one.
No one.
The music starts playing, a cover song we jam out to a lot. And with a deep breath, I open my mouth and sing.
Like the first time I sang in front of Ayden and Sage, my voice is slightly wobbly. I stabilize my tone quickly, though, and before I know it, I’m rocking out, putting on a show. I hit pitches I’ve never reached before and carry notes longer and more in control. Smooth is the first word that comes to mind when I’m finished. I performed smoothly.
“Well, what do you think?” I ask my dad after we finish the song.
I’m panting and sweaty like I always am after I sing. My heart dances lively in my chest as I wait in anticipation for his response. Usually, I can pick up what he’s feeling, but right now, he appears neutral. I start to grow worried that maybe he didn’t like it, that perhaps he’s trying to figure out a way to let us down gently.
Stop being so self-doubtful!
I square my shoulders while I wait. When a grin spreads across his face, I release a trapped breath.
“You guys have a name yet?” he asks, leaning forward in the chair.