Page 55 of Rocked: The Price of Dreams

Kyle leaned forward and covered my hand with his other palm. The warm of his touch fueled the fire rippling underneath my skin. I wanted to enter this competition. The doubt on his face morphed into a subtle smile. Golden sparks flared in his eyes. “If it gets us out of here, I’m in.”

“When does it open?” Hunter grabbed and perused the page.

“In a few weeks.” I sat back. “At the beginning of April. Finalists are announced just before we graduate.”

“Wouldn’t that be insane?” Hunter sucked in a deep breath, filling the air with his electric energy. “Finish school and land a record deal.”

Yes. It would. Dreams filled my head and heart. “Whether we win or not, we’re still moving to New York.” My unrelenting hunger to succeed swirled in my belly. The three of us wanted the same thing. I pointed to the page. “Let’s enter. Let’s work out what songs we want to cover and submit. We’ll never know our luck unless we try.”

“Okay.” Kyle nodded. His smile was as stunning as a starlit night. “I’m in.”

“Yay!” I squealed. Clasping onto both guys’ hands, I squeezed tight. “No one wants this more than we do. We’re gonna make our dreams come true. Deal?”

“Abso-freaking-lutely.” Hunter high-fived us with his free hand.

“Yep. It’s ride or die.” Kyle swiped the cup of hot chocolate off the table and drank the last mouthful. He winked at me. “Forever.”

“Hell yeah.” I flattened my hand over my tummy to stop the jitters. There was something about this contest that seemed right.

I didn’t want to get my hopes up. After a gazillion rejections, I was prepared for failure and elimination. But we’d work our asses off. With Hunter’s flare, Kyle’s talent, and my ambition, nothing would stop us. SureHaven had to notice us.

They had to.

I had a good feeling about this.

Chapter 19

Prom. Prom. Prom. From the first day back after spring break, every conversation I overheard consisted of girls talking about dresses, shoes, and hairdos. The guys joked about asking girls to the dance, then gloated about a yes or shuffled along the hallways and hid if rejected. Thankfully—and to my relief—no one dared to ask me. The evil glares I gave most of the guys kept them at a distance.

One afternoon, I leaned against the wall outside the school’s main entrance. I shot Kyle a text:

Hurry up! We’ve got tunes to play.

Students rushed toward cars and buses, and hollered their daily goodbyes to friends—but Matias, the bully who’d made Kyle’s and Hunter’s lives hell during our freshman year, lingered by the front door. I froze. He glanced my way, then turned away, then came another few steps closer, raking his fingers through his buzz cut.

The blood drained from my face. Fuck. I’d seen that nervous look on guys’ faces over the past week—the reddened cheeks, the fidgety hands, the sweaty brows. Shit. Was he going to ask me to prom?

Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t.

He’d been tolerable and apologetic after we’d played at the community fair. He’d even said he liked our music. But I didn’t like him. Not the slightest. Muscle-bound, brutish footballers didn’t do it for me. I still hadn’t forgotten that he and his buddies had picked on Kyle and Hunter.

My heart pounded. Tightening the hold on my backpack, my palms turned clammy. I straightened. My heels connected with the brick building behind me. This wasn’t going to happen. When Matias stopped six feet away, I clenched my teeth so hard, the muscles in my jaw ached. I cut him a scathing glare and shook my head.

His mouth fell open as if he wanted to say something, but no words came. Fear flashed in his eyes. Time stood still as his eyes locked onto mine. Nausea flooded my stomach. I saved him the trouble.

“No,” I said. “Not gonna happen.”

“Oh. Um. Okay.” With a nod, he turned and sped across the parking lot toward his truck.

Thank fuck. I let out the breath I’d been holding and collapsed against the wall.

Kinda cool I’d scared him off.

Besides, I already had a date to prom. Since Kyle had hooked up with Vicki before spring break and had asked her to the dance, Hunter and I would go together...as friends.

With four weeks till the dance and eight weeks until we graduated, my focus should’ve been on finals, but it wasn’t. Every day I checked my cell phone at least twenty times to see if our submission for the SureHaven contest had been successful. The contestants would be announced this Friday, but I’d hoped we’d hear something before they posted the details on social media. No such luck. Maybe we hadn’t been chosen.

Fuck.

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