Page 3 of Cadence
“Want me to message her? I mean, it’s worth a try?”
Placing my hand over his phone, I push him back. “No.”
“But she’s talented as hell,” Eli whines, like I’m purposely stopping him from meeting his hero.
“I don’t care how good they are. We don’t want some wannabe who’s too afraid to show their face.”
Agitation claws at my chest as I spin the ring on my thumb, faster, harder, as it bites into my skin, my eyes glancing at the door until, finally, it opens.
I don’t need to look at my bandmates to know we’re all watching, the entire room turning still as our final auditionee walks in with a palpable quiet confidence. Not cocky, exactly, but not shy either, just…self-assured.
Her black boots hit the floor with soft thuds, one hand in the pocket of her leather jacket, the other gripping the strap of her beat-up bag slung over her shoulder with long, slender fingers. Twin drumsticks poke out from the front pocket, their tips rough and splintered from heavy use.
Something prickles at the base of my spine as my eyes sweep over her again; long hair cascading down her back, the color somewhere between brown and red, sharp cheekbones, full lips, thick mascara framing eyes that scan the space.
It’s not obvious; nothing I can name, at least. But there’s something…familiar about her, something that sends a strange jolt through me.
I sit up straighter, my eyebrows knitting and unknitting, like my body’s trying to figure her out before my brain can. A flicker of dread, unearned and unexplained, flashes behind my ribs before it can take hold.
“Oh shit,” Eli says under his breath, shifting forward, eyes fixed on her. “You know her, don’t you?”
“I—”I don’t know.“Do you?”
“Don’t think so. Maybe?” Shrugging, he sticks out his lower lip. “Kinda gives me that feeling when youthinkyou know someone, but it’s just ’cause they look like that actress from that one movie.” He gestures vaguely. “Know what I mean?”
I do. But I don’t think that’s it. Or maybe it is?
“If this is gonna be weird, say it now,” Beau says flatly, drumming an impatient finger on the table.
“No, it’s not—” Trailing off, my gaze stays locked on her as she stops in front of us, pulling a folder from her bag and handing it out, looking at each of us in turn with a cool calm.
“I’m Paige Erikson, here to audition,” she says when none of us speak. “You were expecting me?”
The guys move simultaneously, the sound of scraping chairs and mundane small talk barely registering as they round the table, shaking her hand and taking the folder from her before setting it down.
I stay planted, not moving to greet her. Instead, the chair creaks beneath my weight as I move, bracing my forearms on the table, studying her. A spark ignites somewhere deep inside me that I can’t place, déjà vu sinking sharp teeth into my senses.
I swear I’ve seen her before.
“Eli James, bass guitar,” Eli says, giving his signature lazy grin and jerking a thumb toward Beau. “Beau Fletcher, guitar, backup vocals.”
She waits, rocking slightly on her heels, expecting me to speak.
I don’t. My fingers twitch against the table as I just…stare.
“You’re still looking for a drummer, right?” she asks, voice just shy of a rasp. It scrapes down my spine, the timber low and rough, enough to make my blood stir.
What the fuck is happening?
Eli and Beau exchange a glance.
“Still looking,” Beau says, then nods toward me. “And this is Maddox Knox. Lead guitar and vocals.”
“Nice to meet you,” she says, her teeth catching her bottom lip.
“Have we met?” The question comes out harsher than I mean it to, my voice low, guarded even. Accusatory.
She startles, her eyebrows pulling together before shaking her head. “I don’t think so?”
