Page 36 of For One Night Only

GHOSTS

ALL THE LIPS YOU KISS

SPARKS

OVER THE BULLSHIT

CAFFEINE DREAMS

NEVER WALK AWAY

SUMMER SUNSET

FALLOUT

MAKING MEMORIES

STILL DANCING

11

Valerie

I can’t tell what’s louder—Keeley’s drumming or my heartbeat.

As we’re singing perfectly alternate lines of the bridge on “Ghosts,” every nerve in my body is alight with tension. This is what I was afraid of back at karaoke—that we’d sing together and it would feel like this.

Like fucking foreplay.

It would be so easy to fall for Caleb again. We’re not alone, but I only have eyes for him, and his are sparkling back at me across the microphone.

Sharing a microphone makes me want you.

I remember him whispering that in my ear in the middle of the night all those years ago. But no, that’s not what this means. He’s playing a part.

We both are.

We’ll let everyone think we’resomethingso the buzz around this reunion gets even hotter, and then The Network won’t be able to do anything except renewEpic Theme Songon my coattails.That’s the goal here, and I need to focus on it. Not the sweet nothings of the past.

I’m sure Caleb forgot he ever said those words to me.

He agreed to help me, so he’s playing it up for the people footing the bill. But when we’re in the cramped studio singing like this, so tightly in sync we’re practically reading each other’s minds, it’s hard not to wonder if there’s still a spark there.

But it’s probably just old feelings. Residual static. A sense memory in my body that will pass.

I gasp as I lose focus, trying to keep enough air flowing through my vocal cords for the high notes. Caleb made it very clear that he’s done after the concert. He has an entire life he’s built away from the industry. In what world could we make it work, even if this thing between us still lingers? It wouldn’t be fair to him to act on it.

Not that it’s there. Obviously. I’m just horny and reacting to old feelings.

Once we finish the bridge, I tear my gaze away from his, rushing back to my own microphone. This last chorus is subdued, like I’m telling the audience a secret, and I do everything I can to really sell it. Caleb layers in a harmony, so sweet and soft and full of longing that it almost makes me look back at him, but I don’t. I focus on the music, remind myself why I’m here.

Wade flashes a covert thumbs-up as we finish the last line, and the notes ring out despite the terrible acoustics. The executives give us a polite round of applause, but there’s something on Gina Choi’s face that I really don’t like.

She’s calculating.

“That was really nice work, kids,” she says. It’s fine when Wade calls us kids, but from Gina it feels condescending—especially since she’s not much older than we are. From Wade, it’s affectionate. But from Gina, it’s like we’re children to be managed instead of adults who have something of value to offer.

How Label Records has always treated us.

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