Page 102 of One Week Wingman

The Mavericks group crowd in to congratulate me. “Nice job,” Charlie cheers, slapping my back.

“How come we didn’t know about this talent of yours?” Dash asks, handing me a beer.

“Oh my god, you were incredible up there!” Jenn cries, hugging me—and almost spilling said beer.

I take a long gulp, still flying. I can’t believe I just did that—or that performing could feel so good. But there’s still only one person I want to see.

I search the crowd for Sebastian.

“Roxy, right?”

I turn. A cool-looking woman is approaching me. She’s got a bleached pixie cut, and she’s wearing a leather skirt with a baggy Blondie shirt. “You were really great up there,” she says, smiling.

“Thanks.” I pause, recognizing her. “Wait, don’t you play in that band—”

“Pixie Sticks,” she finishes, naming the band whose flyer I’ve had sitting on my kitchen counter for weeks now. “Yup.”

Oh shit.

I gulp, suddenly full of nerves. “I’ve seen you play, you’re really great.”

“We’re actually looking for a new singer,” she continues. “What kind of stuff are you into?”

“Uh, everything,” I blurt. “Sixties folk, Laurel Canyon, and Eighties trash punk all the way through Nineties Britpop. With a side of Phoebe Bridgers and Taylor Swift.”

She grins wider. “That’s just our style. Let me give you my number,” she adds, pulling out her phone. “You should come meet the rest of the band sometime, hang out, maybe play some songs. See how you’d fit.”

I gape. Is this seriously happening?She’sinvitingmeto audition? “I… I would love that!”

She inputs my details, and then smiles. “I’m glad we could connect. Your friend was right,” she adds. “You’re definitely our vibe.”

My friend…

The woman heads out—but not before pausing by the door, and saying something to Sebastian.

And I realize: there was no other band scheduled to perform at the bar tonight. There was no last-minute cancellation.

He set this all up—for me.

My heart stops.

Sebastian looks up and sees me. He cuts through the crowd, and says something, but I can’t hear him over the sound of our customers, who have all decided to try and order drinks at the same time.

I grab his hand, and pull him down the hallway, into the back office of the bar. My pulse is racing as I close the door behind us, and finally,finally, find myself alone with him, for the first time since our terrible fight.

“Seb—” I start, but he cuts me off.

“I know you said you weren’t ready to sing in front of everyone,” he says immediately. “And I didn’t want to rush you, but you’re so talented,” he insists, gazing down at me. “I wanted you to see what I do, just what you’re capable of. That your music, it’s made to be shared. To be played!”

“I… I know,” I swallow, still reveling just in the sight of him, up close. The way his eyes crinkle at the edges, the way his sweater sleeves are pushed up, revealing his strong forearms. Like gravity, I just want to throw myself into his embrace.

I’ve missed him so much.

“And I’m sorry about what I said, everything, I didn’t mean it.” Sebastian’s gaze turns imploring. “I know nothing happened with Jason. I just freaked out, seeing you together. I’ve never felt like this before,” he adds, pacing, dragging a hand through his hair. “And… I don’t know, it triggered all my insecurities, feeling like I wasn’t good enough. That you’d seen the real me, and figured I wasn’t worth the trouble. That you didn’t feel the same way.”

Hope surges through me at his words.Feel the same way.

Does that mean…?

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