Page 3 of Just My Type of wrong guy

But I still don’t leave the stage because it’s time to transition from my set to the boys’ performance, and we chose to do it with a new song. Well, actually,a duet.

With a sly smile, I rest my guitar on the stool I was sitting on and run to the central runway, where the production team sets up a piano. Under moonlight and the glow of a thousand cellphone cameras, I catch the confused looks on every face.

I shift my gaze to the piano keys and run my hands over my dress before sitting down. It’s the first time I’m going to singMaybeoutside of a recording studio, my heart racing, and my breath heavy, as if I hadn’t been on stage for almost forty minutes.

The moment they catch a glimpse of A.J.’s silhouette crossing the stage, the noise becomes deafening, and that only makes me more nervous.

I toss my curls back over my shoulders and place my hands on the piano as the screams of “A.J.” and “hot” echo through the stadium. My throat scratches, my fingers tingle, and the moment A.J. stops beside me, I feel the sweat running down my back with the anticipation.

I need to start playing. I begin the song, then he sits down and plays his part. It’s simple, just play, but my fingers don’t move.

A.J. tilts his head and smiles at me, as if telling me exactly what I’m thinking, and I understand my nervousness: It’s not that simple. After this moment, everything will change.

Up until now, I’m the former bandmate of one of the members of Vicious Bonds, opening for their new band. After this song, I’m going to become the girl who has a duet with the most beloved member of the group.

A.J. sits next to me, with a huge smile, and I prepare to open my lips and let the pain of the song go:

Porque não há um manual do que fazer.

(Because there’s no manual on what to do.)

Quando o amor persiste, mas a confiança é quebrada.

(When love persists, but trust is broken.)

Quando a saudade é intensa,

(When longing is intense,)

mas a presença apenas tolerada.

(but presence is only tolerated.)

I’d thought they’d go wild when I sang that little snippet in Portuguese, but instead they stay silent, like they’re trying to catch every single word. The reaction makes me play the keys with more precision and impose my voice; if they’re memorizing this performance, I want to give them theperfect memory.

Quando minhas cicatrizes são tão reais, e suas desculpas quase banais.

(When my scars are so real, and their apologies almost trivial.)

Dessa vez, amar você talvez não seja suficiente para me fazer permanecer.

(This time, loving you might not be enough to make me stay.)

A.J.’s arm slides along mine, grabbing my attention. I lift my face and find his kind smile from ear to ear, as if he’s not about to sing one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard. Then he plays the piano keys without taking his eyes off mine:

I messed up and hurt you, but is it worth it to be a “maybe” forever?

Maybe I was just too young, too naive, too scared.

Maybe I didn’t realize how much I hurt you.

For a split second, A.J. takes his right hand off the piano and caresses my face, showing that, even though he’s smiling before singing something like that, he knows how to act. We make the crowd go even crazier as we repeatMaybe I didn’t realize how much I hurt you,sharing the microphone closely.

Our hands touch the instrument, our eyes meet, and I almost feel the truth of the words in his voice:

Maybe I wasn’t who you needed me to be.

But now I’m here, ready to fight for us.

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