Page 88 of For One Night Only

“Hi, friends!” Valerie says, before she strums her guitar once. The audience absolutely roars in response. “It’s good to see you again!”

I grin, taking my cue. As I approach my mic, the rest of my lingering anxiety melts away. I know how to do this.

“Good evening, and welcome to the Glitter Bats reunion show at Hollywood Stadium!” I pause to let the cheers around the room sink in. We’re surrounded by people who want to hear our music, and it’s the best feeling in the world. It’s why I wanted to make music in the first place—connecting with people. Telling truths.

I don’t think I realized just how much I needed to be in the band again until this exact moment. On the video screen, I catch my own gaze, and I’m almost startled by how happy I look. But I flash the crowd a sly smirk as I lean into my mic again, starting us off. “My name is Caleb Sloane—”

“I’m Valerie Quinn.”

“Hi, I’m Jane Mercer.”

“Riker Maddox.”

“And I’m Keeley fucking Cunningham!”

“—and in case you forgot, we are the Glitter Bats!” I finish. Warmth and adrenaline wash over me as I take in the moment. On this stage with these four people who are my family? I feel at home.

It’s an unexpected bliss. This makes sense. Me, my instrument, Valerie at my side, my band around me. I want to live in this moment forever.

“If you’re all up for it, we’re going to get started with a fan favorite,” Valerie says.

She plays the guitar intro to “Ghosts” with razor-sharp precision, like she was born for this moment. The fans gasp and shriek, the palpable excitement running through the stadium like anelectric current. We all only have eyes for Valerie. She’s so incandescent with that violet hair in the glow of the lights that I have to remind myself to layer in the bass line as the rest of the band comes in.

But thank god for muscle memory, because my fingers know exactly what to do.

Valerie croons on the verse, singing and swaying and entering that magical state that happens to her onstage. Even staying close to the mic stand, she takes up space, using every movement of her body to engage with the crowd.

And they’re eating it up, singing along with every word, jumping up and down, waving their hands.

A thrill runs up my spine. I never liked the fame, but I liked knowing someone loved my song. Valerie and I cowrote “Ghosts,” like nearly everything we recorded, and the audience response after all this time feels so personal.

When I jump in on the on-the-nose chorus, I grin.

ten years from now will we be here

or will we just be ghosts?

spirits of love who never call

’cause it’s been way too long

oh if there’s space between us then

promise you’ll haunt me right

oh if this can’t be our forever

let’s be shades of night

It’s all a cheesy metaphor—it’s why Keeley callsBittersweetour “goth rock phase”—and I sing it with my entire chest. I’m proud of this song. I’m proud of everything we’ve done, not just in the past, but this summer. It took a lot to come together again, and here we are in an arena full of thousands, proving we can and still rock together. Hard.

My chest warms as I glance around at my band, and then the roaring crowd in front of us. After the first few shaky rehearsals, we’re better than we ever were. Valerie plays her guitar solo with cocky grace, swinging her hair around in a way that completely mesmerizes me. Thank god Riker is doubling my vocals on the bridge, because I almost forget my part—I can’t look away from the rock goddess beside me.

Keeley takes the high harmony, giving Valerie time to regroup before the quiet chorus, and I nod my head at her.

The fans are expecting it—why make them wait?

“I’ve got the bass line if you want to go for it,” Jane says, whispering into the monitor mic, sensing what we’re doing.

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