Page 32 of Chasing Lyric
My jaw jerks from side to side as I mull over what she’s said. “Zane lied to me, Aria. He had another girlfriend. It still makes me physically ill to even think about it.”
Her highly made-up face falls. “I know, babe. But you think every man out there is going to do the exact same thing? Give Chase a shot. Let him screw it up in his own way.”
I snort out a laugh. “Great pep talk there, sis. Even you think we’re doomed.”
“I don’t. I was joking. But seriously, don’t fling yourself at him. It will turn him off. You might be throwing something amazing away. Just let it play out how it will. Trust me. I might be the baby of this family, but I’m also the wisest one. Go figure!”
Aria twists and tilts her head like this is a photoshoot instead of just a FaceTime call, black eyeliner smudged thick around her eyes, shadowed so dark it could swallow the light. Her lips are stained deep purple, the kind of color that dares you to look twice. The nose ring glints when she tilts her head, same as mine, we got them together, but somehow hers screams grunge while mine still whispers rookie. Her hair, dyed black and knotted into loose dreadlocks, has a streak of rebellion woven through it in the form of a single purple ribbon. Every inch of her says she’s not just playing at rock ’n’ roll,she’s living it.
Me? I’m the opposite side of the coin.
My hair’s a tangle of sun-streaked waves, more beach-boho than grunge rebellion, and standing next to Aria, you’d never guess we share blood, let alone matching nose rings. She channels the family’s music legacy through sweat and drumsticks, her rough-edged voice cutting through like it belongs on stage.Me?I wear the same history differently, quieter, softer, like a melody that slips through the cracks when no one’s paying attention.
Then there’s Clef, stuck right in the middle of us like the chord that ties a whole song together. He picked up a guitar at thirteen and never put it down, fingers always chasing riffs the rest of us couldn’t keep up with. Now he’s off somewhere on the other sideof the world, stringing out solos on a stage in Tokyo or Seoul, the indie-rock golden boy who turned garage noise into a passport.
I should be proud, and I am, but sometimes the silence he leaves behind feels louder than the music. I miss him more than I’ll ever admit out loud.
My family—the musical magicians.
Not me, though.
I thought about it for a short time.
But Zane?Yeah, he was my tipping point.
I was wavering, trying to decide where my life should focus.
Then I met him.
Lead singer ofHazardous.
Sex god.
Rock god.
I was burned alive until I was nothing but a pile of ash floating away with the coldest of winds.
A shell.
An empty void.
Because he promised me the world, and all he delivered was regret.
I thought for a moment, a brief moment, I could have made it inthat music world. The world where my parents and siblings belong. A world I was made for.
Zane told me my voice was like an angel, an angel crafted by the gods themselves. He told me he’d never heard anyone sing like I could. He needed me on a track, so we recorded a duet. I even went on stage at his concerts and sang along with him.
The lights.
The crowd.
It was euphoric.
I understand the rush my family gets from it all. But it all turned to shit when I found out Zane had another girlfriend. At the same damn time, we were together.
I couldn’t perform with him anymore.
I didn’t want to be around him anymore.
