Page 124 of Fly with Me

“Traitor,” Olive said with mock sass, while grabbing her best friend in a fierce hug.

“I figured checking something off your list and watching your friends make fools of themselves singing would be a perfect compromise,” Derek said.

Olive gulped her shot. “Compromise?” she said feebly.

Derek handed her another. “You never want to celebrate your birthday, and I do.”

“I think you need to look up the word compromise.”

Stella’s excited expression faltered. “You didn’t say she didn’t like her birthday…” Uneasiness tinged her words.

Olive turned and smiled, stifling the urge to wrap Stella in her arms and kiss her senseless. “I think I’m going to really enjoy this birthday. Usually, I just never want anyone else to be inconvenienced. December birthdays are annoying for everyone.”

Derek shook his head at Stella. “She’s always been like this.”

“Well, this year we just have to spoil her, then.” Stella’s happy expression returned. “Planning this was fun.” She took a shot from the tray. “All right. Should I start with Selena or Dolly?” She pointed to the microphone in front of the screen.

Olive laughed. “Selena.”

Derek grabbed a catalog from the table and pushed it into Olive’s arms. “We’re going to get you drunk enough that we can check this off your list, so pick a song while you can still read.”

Olive scrubbed her face, wondering exactly how much alcohol that would take.

Both Derek and Stella were passable singers, and despite what they said, neither made a fool out of themselves. Olive was in that happy playground of a mind space where she didn’t have the spins yet, but the world seemed perfectly splendid. She’d had two pieces of the champagne cake that was indeed her favorite.

Olive grabbed a fry and chewed slowly. After finishing her glass of champagne, she gulped some water. She stood, wobbling a little but not slurring. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Derek’s eyes went wide.

Olive huffed out a breath. “Okay.”

After snapping the binder shut, Olive went over to punch in the track number. She loved this song and was surprised it was in the catalog. She used to belt it out in the car—when she was alone. Since childhood, she only ever sang alone. Her baseline stage jitters were being strongly overruled by the booze and the presence of the beautiful woman. Her parents had pushed her into singing in public when she was little, but her shyness as a child had overwhelmed all their efforts.

The familiar intro of Brandi Carlile’s “The Joke” played over the speakers. It wasn’t a typical choice, but it was a song she’d loved for years. She knew Stella would like it too.

She held up the mic and began to sing.

Stella’s face lit up with shock.

Derek shook his head smugly. He’d caught her singing several times, so he knew.

Olive focused on a spot in the back of the room, not daring to look at either of her friends. But a graceful movement stole her attention, Stella’s shiny black hair catching the light as she leaned forward to listen.

The terror she normally felt when someone listened to her sing didn’t materialize. Sharing this long-hidden part of herself with this woman felt right. It was easier for the drunk side of her brain to ignore the fact that they were “friends” and that despite all the sex, nothing indicated that would be changing. But with Stella’s dreamboat eyes glittering up at her, Olive was happy. And most shockingly, not in any danger of panic-puking.

Being here with her felt right.

As soon as the song finished, Stella leaped out of her seat and applauded. “Oh my god, Olive.”

“You’re such an asshole.” Derek mussed her hair. “Showing us up.”

Stella looked in danger of exploding with enthusiasm. “Why were you afraid of karaoke when you could sing like that?”

“Well, I don’t like standing up in front of people. My parents used to make me sing in church and for family functions until the time I threw up on the front row of pews.” Olive chuckled, and yeah, she might have been slurring now. “And also, when you can sing, you get labeled as that asshole who came to karaoke to show off.”

Stella’s grin was wicked. “I liked hearing you sing.”

“I sort of liked you watching me.”

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