Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 152064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
My dad is the first to find me. He’s beaming with pride, and that settles my nerves a fraction. “What an incredible performance! You were wonderful up there.” He pulls me in for a hug. “I’m so glad I could be here for this.” He presents me with an excessively large bouquet of roses.
I bring them to my nose and inhale their soft scent. “Thanks, Dad. These are beautiful.”
He tucks a hand in his pocket, his smile sheepish. “Your mom picked them out.”
“I just suggested the color, the rest was all your dad. You were perfect as usual.” Mom’s smile wavers a little, like she’s on the edge of emotion. “I’m so proud of you. You’ve come so far.”
“Thank you for always supporting me and being my cheerleader.”
“Always and forever, sweetie.” She squeezes me tightly, and I return the embrace.
My mom and I have always been close. With my dad on the road three quarters of the year, it was often her and me looking after Ties and Fenna.
Eventually Mom releases me and I look to my siblings. Ties is on his phone, and Fenna is picking at a loose thread on her cuff.
I tap my sister on the shoulder, and she pulls out one of her noise-cancelling earplugs. She’s sensitive to noise in large crowds. “Do you have your scissors in your purse?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you get them out and I’ll fix that?” I nod to the loose thread. Usually, Mom would be on top of that.
“Okay.” She retrieves them for me. Her face brightens as I trim the thread and pass the scissors back.
“Thanks.” Fenna has some sensory issues, and that thread has likely been frustrating her for as long as it’s been loose.
“I’m sorry I didn’t notice that, honey,” Mom apologizes.
“It’s okay. Tallulah fixed it for me.” She turns to me. “I liked the song choice.”
I grin. “I thought you might.”
Fenna’s in grade nine, plays the cello, and basically lives and breathes classical music.
Ties, who is in his final year of high school, drags his eyes away from his phone long enough to give me a thumbs-up. “Good job.” He has a robotics competition next week and being here is probably cutting into his preparation time.
“Once this is all wrapped up, we’ll go for dinner.” Dad glances at Mom before refocusing on me. “Does that sound good?”
“That sounds amazing.” It’s rare enough that my dad can make it to a performance, let alone stick around to celebrate after. I haven’t seen much of him over the past few months because of school and his schedule, so I can’t pass up the opportunity.
My girlfriends step in to give me a huge group hug and a shower of compliments.
“That was flawless.” Fee, my roommate and one of my best friends at Tilton U, makes prayer hands and bows. “You are wildly talented.”
“What she said. You are the music when you’re out there,” Cammie agrees.
“So awesome.” Enid nods her agreement.
I glance around, stomach in knots as I search the crowd. Flip and the other Terror guys are being bombarded by fans, which is not unusual. But he’s still here. Did he feel like he had to stay because everyone else was?
He’s wearing black dress pants, a pale blue dress shirt, and a dark tie. His hair is still a little too long, curling around his ears. He looks handsome and delicious and remains my favorite fantasy and eternally out of reach. Eventually he makes his way over, a bouquet in his hand.
My mouth goes dry, and my palms start to sweat. It’s not like he’ll bring up our last conversation in front of all these people, but the residual mortification is overwhelming.
Still, I take a step forward, though I don’t know what to do or how to act around him now. “Thanks for coming.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. You owned that stage,” he says.
“Thanks,” I croak, and struggle with what to say. He brought me flowers, so maybe we’ll be okay. “We worked really hard on that number.”
“It absolutely showed.” He holds out the bouquet, which is a fraction of the size of some of the other flowers I’ve been given tonight, but they’re stunning blooms in shades of pale blue and white to match my costume. It’s like he picked each one with intention and knows all my favorites.
Or maybe I’m projecting.
I bring them to my nose and inhale. “These are beautiful.”
“They match you, then.”
My eyes flare as he wraps his arms around me. I awkwardly pat his back, and my nose mashes against his armpit because I didn’t turn my head in time. He squeezes my waist, chin bumping my temple.
I break out in an anxiety-riddled sweat.
He steps back, his expression is both gentle and amused, but also... “You should be really proud of yourself, Talls.”
I’m flustered, and I want to apologize, but we’re surrounded by our friends and my family. I wave a hand around in the air, then grip the flowers to stop my flailing. “I had a whole team out there with me.”