Page 59 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

“Shut the fuck up,” the small woman before me growls.

I hesitantly take a step back in confusion. “What? Why?”

“I’m not going to sit here while you lie to yourself like that, Percy.

How dare you talk about yourself in such a shitty way? You should

never talk to yourself like that.”

“Like what? I am a failure, dammit. I just proved that! I broke

sobriety.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose, though. That doesn’t mean you’re a

failure or that you even broke it at all. It’s not like you sat down at the

bar and had a beer, Percy. It was an accident, and you stopped

drinking it when you realized the truth. It’s okay. You’re not a failure.

Even if you did break sobriety, that doesn’t make you a punk.

Everyone relapses sometimes. It’s normal to pick yourself back up

again and start over.”

I feel at ease with her words, almost more ashamed that I had

freaked out so much over something that seems so insignificant now.

She’s right, too. I didn’t want to drink vodka. I just happened to sip

from the wrong glass. Mistakes happen.

She’s so collected with her confidence that I hate myself less when

she talks so highly of me.

“I’m sorry about that,” I groan, pressing my face into my palms. “I

feel so stupid right now.”

“Don’t, Percy. It’s okay. Now, get back out there and play another

song because everyone is probably getting super impatient.”

I pull her in close and hug her tight, feeling her warmth like she’s an

aged bourbon soaring down my throat. I shiver and smile at the same

time, pulling her in for a long minute before I know I have to get back

out on stage. I take her hand and pull her with me as we get back to

the show.

Picking up my guitar, I feel more confident than I have in forever. It’s

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