Page 33 of I Would Die for You

“You OK?” asks Cassie, as Luke fires up the opening chords of the new album’s title track. She can’t help but notice the look ofdisdain that Ben throws Michael as he heads to his place behind the drums.

“You could have given me a heads-up,” says Amelia, before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

“That’s not funny,” whispers Cassie. She likes Amelia but she doesn’t want to be associated with her sordid behavior. What she and Ben have got is poles apart from the shallow relationship that Amelia and Michael share.

Ben catches her eye and smiles, as if he’s heard her thoughts, and as the bass guitar kicks in she wonders if he might sing this song to her. She flushes when he winks in her direction and happily imagines a hundred pairs of eyes burning like lasers into the back of her head, wishing they were her.

Girls sigh and swoon at the line, “I want to lay down beside you, and do what we do so well.” But he’s only looking at one person and her insides have turned to jelly.

“That was incredible,” breathes Cassie heavily into his ear as he comes offstage. She’s praying they don’t have to endure much more of this tireless sucking-up exercise before they can get out of here.Where will we go?she wonders, as desperate to be on her own with him as he clearly is to be with her.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he says, brushing her hand with his, careful not to linger too long for fear that someone will see.

Now that she’s in this position, Cassie can begin to understand why any relationships the boys have need to be kept under wraps. It would break the hearts of a million teenagers if they thought Ben had someone special in his life, though how she’s expected to keep the secret to herself, she hasnoidea.

“I’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready to leave,” she says as he goes to walk away.

He stops short and turns back to her. “What?”

“You know… I’m ready, whenever you want to go,” says Cassie, hoping that he catches on this time. There are a lot of peoplejostling to get to him and she doesn’t want to make any of the other girls feel bad.

He gives her a secret look—one that saysBe patient—and her insides soar with a power so all-consuming that she feels as if she could grow wings.

16

“OK, this is the last song of the night,” says Nicole, as she stares past the spotlights into the thinning crowd at Dallinger’s. Being last on the bill means she’s often playing to an empty room, the couples having long since retired to bed and the bigger groups having moved on to somewhere livelier. She doesn’t mind, though—she’d only be singing to herself in her bedroom otherwise, and at least this place gives her a hot meal at the end of her set, which is more than she gets when she’s at home.

“This is a song that’s been in my head for a long time, but I’ve only recently got it down on paper. It’s about the woman I love most in the world—and it means even more to me now than I could have ever thought possible.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and she struggles to compose herself. “This is called ‘I Would Die for You.’”

As soon as she starts singing, the emotion that had almost caught her out is swept up into the melody as she loses herself in it.

“There are things I could never teach you, no matter how hard I try

Because only you can decide how high you fly…

I can set you on your way and catch you if you fall

But only you will know…”

It’s somehow a lot easier to sing your sorrow than speak it. And when Nicole strums the final chords on her guitar, a lone round of applause ripples through the darkness.

“Thanks,” she says, smiling, always grateful for any appreciation shown, especially for a song that means so much.

“That was quite something,” comes a voice out of the shadows.

Nicole holds a hand up to shield her eyes from the bright stage lights, but it doesn’t help her much. “Thanks,” she says, making her way down the steps to the floor. She gets ready with her excuse for what she fears is coming.

“Would you care to join me for a drink at the bar?” the man asks.

“I’m sorry,” she says, without even looking in his direction. “I’ve been on my feet all day.”

“We can sit,” he says.

If she wasn’t so tired, she’d smile. She hadn’t heard that one before.

“I have to be up early,” she says, hoping he doesn’t have another suitable retort.

“Ihave to be on a 5 a.m. flight to Munich,” he says, the amusement as prevalent in his voice as the sarcasm. “Where doyouhave to be?”

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