Raveling You (Unraveling You 2)

This is how it’s been between us for the last week. The moment we look at each other, we start making out and are unable to keep our hands off each other. I seriously feel like I have no control over myself anymore, and I’m kind of glad. I love, love, love losing myself in him.

I always have to be careful, though. Ayden has no problem with touching me, but I can’t even slip my fingers up his shirt without sending him into a panic attack.

“You guys about ready to go on?” Uncle Ethan’s voice instantly puts a lid on the moment.

We push apart, our breathing ragged. We turn to the side, and Ayden immediately withdraws his hands from my waist the moment he catches sight of Uncle Ethan’s questioning expression.

“Um…” Ayden struggles with what to say.

“You’re on in five.” Uncle Ethan’s attention flicks between the two of us before he hurries off toward the hallway where the rest of the bands are hanging out.

“Do you think he saw us?” Ayden asks worriedly as he faces me again.

I shrug. “I’m not sure. It kind of looked like it.”

“What are we going to do if he did?”

“I don’t know. He might not say anything to anyone. This is Uncle Ethan we’re talking about. He rarely says anything.”

“Yeah, but us about to kiss…” Ayden makes a wary face. “I kind of doubt he’ll keep quiet about that.”

I open my mouth to tell him not to stress about it when Sage and Nolan come strolling up.

“This is so fucking awesome.” Nolan bounces up and down on the balls of his feet, pumped up.

Sage leans around me to get a glimpse of the crowd. “Dude, the place is packed.”

Place.

Crowds.

People watching me.

Watching me sing.

What if I suck?

I’m suddenly reminded that I have bigger problems than whether or not Ethan is going to out my and Ayden’s relationship.

My stomach churns. “I think I’m going to throw up.” I slap my hand across my mouth and push past Ayden, running into the restroom. I lock myself in the stall, drop to my knees, and puke up every ounce of the chicken I ate for dinner.

My belly is empty by the time I sit down on the floor.

“I can’t do this,” I mutter. “I really can’t.”

A moment or two ticks by, then I hear the click of heels on the other side of the stall.

“Lyric, are you in here?” my mother hisses.

“Yeah,” I say with a groan. “I think I’m too sick to go on stage, though.”

She gives the stall door a shake. “Open up. Now.”

I kneel up and unlatch the door then sit back down. She walks in with a glass half full of wine, and I notice her eyes are a little glazed. She takes one look at me then shuts the stall.

“You have to do this.” She tears some tissue from off the roll and hands it to me.

“I know. I know. Or Dad will hate me.” I dab the sides of my mouth and under my eyes then toss the tissue into the toilet.

“No, because you’ll regret it if you don’t.” She pats the top of my head. “Trust me, your dad will forgive you if you bail. Will he be upset? Probably for a while, but he loves you too much to stay mad at you. But trust me when I say that regret is much harder to get over.”

“You’re speaking from personal experience, aren’t you?” I stare up at her, the woman who shares the same eyes as me and is probably one of the coolest persons I know. I look up to her for living her dream of becoming an artist.

She nods. “I am. There’s a lot of stuff I have and haven’t done in the past that I wish I could do differently.”

I heave a weighted sigh. “Fine, I’ll do it, but only because your pep talk is scaring me.” I get to my feet, and then we exit the stall. I stop by the sink to wash my hands while my mom sets her wineglass down on the counter to fix her lipstick. While she’s not paying attention, I pick it up and take a few swallows.

“Lyric Scott,” she scolds, but I can tell she’s working hard to be angry. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Okay.” I hand the glass back to her as the alcohol swims through my veins. I feel slightly mellower, but not a whole lot. I still manage to exit the bathroom and walk backstage where Sage, Nolan, and Ayden are waiting.

“You going to be okay?” Ayden asks, brushing my matted hair from my forehead.

I nod, but don’t say anything as vomit burns at the back of my throat again. “No regrets. No regrets. No regrets,” I chant under my breath.

“What are you saying?” Sage asks, semi-distracted by the stage.

“Nothing.” I turn my back to him and keep chanting until we’re called out.

“This is it,” I whisper to myself. Then I raise my chin, square my shoulders, and march out onto the stage.

The lights are blinding, the crowd is eagerly cheering, even though they have no clue who we are. I remember all the times I’ve cheered bands on and wonder if this is how any of those singers felt, as if they’d swallowed a thousand butterflies on crack.

Ayden and Nolan plug their guitars in and do a quick tuning and sound check. Sage does a few warm up beats while I stand in front of the microphone and adjust the height of the stand an unnecessary amount of times.

Then the strum of a guitar ripples through the amp and floats over the crowd. The entire room silences and people stare at me, waiting to be dazzled by my talent.

I’m supposed to say something. My dad told me what it was, but I can’t remember.

“Um… we’re Alyric Bliss,” I murmur into the microphone, and my dad’s words gradually come back to me. “And thanks for coming out. This one’s called ‘Raveling You.’ ”

Something as easy as a few sentence makes my knees threaten to buckle. I grasp the stand with my sweaty palms as Sage taps his drums. Then the three of them are playing, creating a flawless tune that swirls together and kisses the air. I just hope I don’t fuck it up when I open my mouth.

The intro is pretty long, so I have to wait a seemingly endless amount of time before I sing, but the moment finally arrives.

I take a deep breath and part my lips.

“I never knew it could be like this, never thought such desire was possible, kissing the air from his lungs.” My lips quirk at my slight word variation. “And the heavens rain stars down on us, pieces of shimmering gold around us, pouring warmth all over us. Kiss me until I can no longer breathe. Raveling me up with you until I can hardly think. God, please fucking kiss me before I crumble to pieces.”

I move back as Ayden’s guitar takes over. I suck in a few breaths, feeling less nervous. My voice is balanced, surprisingly smooth. Although, the next part will test it. The words move fast, and I have to push my voice to a near scream. In practice, I rocked it, but I’m worried now. My throat feels like sand paper after puking.

I step up to the mic again, grip the stand, and run my fingers through my hair as some guy whistles at me from the crowd. “You make me weak. You make me strong. You make me ache. You make me feel so wrong. You make me burn for just a taste. You make me, make me, so fucking insane!” My voice carries flawlessly over the room.

And I can’t help myself.

I smile, realizing this dream of mine just might be possible.

I create magic for the next forty-five minutes, and by the time we’re finished, I feel like I’m glowing.

“Thank you!” I shout into the microphone then bounce off stage with the biggest smile plastered on my face.

My skin is damp, I reek of sweat, and I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time. I hug Sage and Nolan after we make it backstage, and then I throw my arms around Ayden and hug the crap out of him.

“That was so much fun,” I say, then throw my head back when he lifts me up off the ground and spins me around and around.

“You were amazing,” he whispers in my ear, sneaking a bite of my earlobe.

“So were you.” I kiss his cheek, and then he plants

my feet back down on the floor.

“Who wants to celebrate?” Sage’s pumps a fist into the air, grasping a bottle of champagne.

“Where’d you get that?” I ask. “Did you steal it from one of the other bands or sneak it out from the bar?”

“Does it really matter?” He moves to pop the cork, but to no avail, showing his lack of experience with champagne bottles.

“Dammit, let me go find an opener.” He strolls off, putting swagger in his step as he passes by a few older women batting their eyelashes and grinning at him.