Tone Deaf(53)

His usual grin springs back onto his lips. “Great. And, yeah, no problem.” With that, he runs back to his keyboard, but not before stopping to give Arrow a kiss on the cheek. Arrow playfully swats at him and “accidentally” smacks his butt, which results in Killer laughing and tackle-hugging his boyfriend.

I hold my hand up briefly, giving the cue for the show to begin. The main lights come on, fully illuminating the stage and revealing us to hundreds of waiting Tone Deaf fans. They scream in excitement, and only grow louder as Killer throws his arms around Arrow’s neck and kisses him fully on the lips. Applause and whistling breaks out, and Killer finally pulls away, laughing from the excitement and adrenaline. Arrow grins like a maniac, and I roll my eyes at them, shooting Killer an exasperated look.

“All right, all right,” he mouths to me. As Killer retreats back to his keyboard, the crowd slowly quiets. I switch on my mic and plaster a smile on my face, but it doesn’t feel right. I’ve always felt happiest onstage, having hundreds of people watching me and knowing they’re here for my music.

But now I’d rather be with Ali. She might not be able to fully appreciate my music the way others do, but she appreciates me. I’d always thought those were the same thing, but as I fight off the longing to ditch the concert and spend the evening with Ali, I realize how much more precious her offering is.

I force in a deep breath, exhaling it slowly so it doesn’t cause static in the mic. Then I force my smile to grow and look up at the crowd in front of me. “Good evening, ladies and gents!” I call out. There’s a resounding response as the crowd breaks out in cheering and screaming. I strum my guitar, effectively quieting them. “My name is Jace Beckett, my band is Tone Deaf, and tonight we’ll be performing just for you.”

The crowd erupts in excited applause, and my smile feels a little less fake as the sound washes over me. My heart starts pounding, just like it always does during a performance, and adrenaline spreads through my body. I strum my guitar again and then pick delicately at the strings, sending music surging out the stereo system. It surrounds me, fills me, envelops me.

Just like that, the music and I are one, and the show begins.





25


ALI


I PAD DOWN the short hallway, using one hand to rub sleep out of my eyes and the other to rub my cramped neck. After I woke up from my nap last night, I tried staying awake until Jace came back from his concert, but I gave up around three in the morning and crashed on the couch. It didn’t quite seem right to sleep in Jace’s bed without him there, but now I’m regretting the couch. My neck muscles feel like someone’s wrung them out.

I’m not really sure where Jace went to—he’s probably with one of the other band members, or maybe still out partying. That’s what rock stars do after a performance, right? They party wildly? It’s strange thinking of Jace doing that—he’s so tightly wound, I can’t picture him at a party at all.

I jump in surprise as I step into the kitchen and find I’m not alone. Jace leans against the counter, munching on a toaster waffle as he peers down at his smartphone. I have no idea when he got back, although it was probably pretty recently, because his eyes are bleary and dark with exhaustion. But he must be in a good mood if he’s willing to eat something as unhealthy as a waffle, even though I’m sure it’s whole-grain and low-fat.

Jace waves at me with the hand holding the waffle, takes a bite out of his breakfast, and then goes back to typing on his phone. His hair flops into his face, and as he brushes it away, I realize with a touch of surprise that this is the first time I’ve seen his hair unstyled. Usually, it’s in that fauxhawk, but now it hangs loosely around his face. It’s kind of cute like this, with the dyed tips almost reaching his chin.

The smartphone is the same one I’ve seen him with before, only now it has a bright-pink case. Huh. I didn’t take Jace to be a pink guy.

Jace types for a couple more seconds and then winks. “Catch,” he mouths, and tosses the phone to me. A yelp strains my throat, and I hastily snatch the phone out of the air right before it hits the ground. I glare at Jace, showing him the full brunt of my annoyance. What if I’d dropped the thing? There’s no way in hell I could ever pay him back.

Then I notice the phone has little purple present bows stuck all over the back of it. I blink a few times, sure that they’re going to disappear any second. They don’t. Flipping it over, I glance at the screen and find that it’s open to the contacts page. There are only five programmed in: Arrow Beckett, Jace Beckett, Kilimanjaro Johnson, and Jon McKinley. My breath catches as I read the fifth entry: Avery Summers.

Clutching the phone to my chest, I turn to Jace. “This is . . . for me?”

He smiles, and it’s an unrestrained expression that wipes the tiredness straight off his face. “Killer grabbed it for you on his day off. We don’t want you to have to strain to lip-read all the time, so we figured this would make things easier. I was just programming in the numbers you’ll need. You’ll have to add in Avery’s yourself, but I’m guessing you probably have it memorized, anyway.”

I nod dumbly. “Thank you.” There are probably a dozen other things I could say, but none of them could even begin to express my relief and gratitude, so I don’t even try. I miss Avery more than I ever imagined, and my fingers are already itching to send her a text message.