He lifted a folded twenty out to get the attention of either of the harried bartenders.
What a relief to hear it wasn’t just me. “That’s an understatement.”
“I’m so nervous about tonight, I decided to hit the bar a bit early. I might live to regret my decision.” He spoke fast, charged with energy.
“I considered that last week but worried it would only lower my inhibitions and make me do something I’d regret. Onstage. In front of an audience.”
His face dropped. “Oh, my God. I hadn’t even thought of that.”
His reaction made me snort. Despite his profession of terror, his eyes twinkled kindly. Before I’d left for the night, Aida had commanded me to check out the other guys at the bar, so I gave Zane a once-over. He was smartly dressed in a high-quality, light-blue button-up shirt that contrasted well with his ginger hair. His lips passed kissable muster, aided by the slight smirk he wore, like he was seconds away from a sarcastic observation. He seemed easy to talk to. It wouldn’t hurt to show some interest.
I leaned forward and confessed, “Honestly, I almost didn’t come back tonight.”
“What? You?” He straightened up, his whole face registering cartoonish shock. “Girl, my boyfriend says you’re the one to beat.”
Oh. Never mind the flirtation, then. I relaxed, weirdly relieved I didn’t need to keep performing for Zane. Maybe I could make a friend instead.
Zane waved his twenty a foot higher, and Miranda appeared. Damn, she was really pretty. “What can I get you?”
He placed his order, and I asked for another club soda and lime, never knowing when I’d see another server.
When we each had our drinks, Zane said, “Come sit with us!”
I glanced at Marco, prepared to turn Zane down, but Marco lifted his half-empty bottle and said, “Go on. I’m probably going to head back home anyway. Call me when you need an escort.”
The walk home was only a few blocks, but Aida was convinced there were shady bad guys hiding behind every plastic trash can and azalea bush, waiting to cart me off to some sex dungeon. She’d read too many terrifying Facebook stories. But like Marco, I was more afraid of Aida than kidnappers, so I agreed to text when the contest was over.
I followed Zane through the crowd to his table and recognized the guy sitting there from the week before. His face lit up. “Hey! If it isn’t the girl with the secret weapon!”
Zane politely introduced us, saying, “Bryce dragged me here last week, and I swore I would murder him if one of us doesn’t win the money after all this.”
Bryce dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Promises, promises.”
I took the extra seat, wondering what he’d meant. “What secret weapon?”
Bryce leaned way forward so he wouldn’t have to shout. “You brought your crush with you! Did you plan that?” I shook my head, but he didn’t even pause to catch a breath. “Oh, my God. Everyone cringed so hard for you last week. You should have gotten first for that performance alone, but then that boy was here?” He giggled. “Priceless.”
Zane slipped his hand into Bryce’s as he turned to me, head shaking. “Seriously. I hope you don’t bring that kind of secondary mortification every night, or we’ll never beat you.”
“I think you can relax,” I said. “I didn’t even win last week.”
“That’s only because while you were reading nobody knew a bomb was about to go off.” Zane lifted his beer, but just before it hit his lips, he said, “He stole the glory that was rightfully yours.”
I sat up a little taller. Glory? Because of my embarrassment? Aida was right. I was in my element, like a level-forty Paladin fighting a swarm of crypt fiends in the Ghostlands. I grinned, enjoying their praise.
“Look at this.” Bryce flaunted a sparkly silver journal with a bright rainbow arcing across the cover. “You made me pull out the big guns.”
“What is that?” I’d fallen into the spell of these two. If they could go onstage as a duo, they’d bring the house down.
“Junior high. Puberty. I’m going for broke, thanks to you.”
They were making me rethink what I’d planned to read. There were entries in my journal that had nothing to do with Tristan, and I’d found one that was only slightly embarrassing, but it was sure to disappoint my two newest fans.
I took out my notebook and turned to a page I’d originally ruled out, but now they’d left me aiming to impress. Thankfully, I’d documented a horrifically shameful moment from that semester. Not the most shameful, but good enough for tonight. And bonus, it referenced Tristan. Maybe I could coast on my newfound brand—she whose past had come back to haunt her.
Someone thumped my back, and a second later, Tristan was gliding around the table, spinning a chair around to straddle it. “Sara! You made it.”
My heart hammered from the shock of his boisterous arrival. “Hey, Tristan. Do you know Zane and Bryce?”
Tristan reached out a hand to each of them. “Most excellent to know you! You’re both in this tonight?”
Zane pursed his lips into a prune of a frown, then condescended to utter, “Indeed.”
He and Bryce shared a knowing look before they each picked up their drinks and began sipping at the same time, simultaneously turning to face the stage, where Miranda sorted through some cards.
Bryce said, “God, I hope we don’t go alphabetically every week.”
Zane said, “Amen.”
Tristan leaned closer to me. “Guess what I found?”
With Zane and Bryce demonstrably shutting us out now, I had a private audience with Tristan. “What?”
His left hand appeared from where it had been hiding below the table, and he slapped a Mead notebook almost identical to my own on the table. The cover had been turned into a work of art, with profiles of what I assumed had been the other kids in our class. In the center, in block letters, were the words Comm 1000.
“Oh, wow.” It would be fun to hear what he’d been thinking that semester, and I wouldn’t feel so alone with my own journal. “Solidarity, huh?”
“Exactly.” He half-smiled in an endearing way and added, “I found something in here I think may have been about you.”
I stammered, “Wh-what?”
My stomach went into free fall. Confessions about someone in the audience had been my secret weapon, according to Bryce. If I was the target of Tristan’s reading, that might dilute the impact of my own journal. Even worse, if his diary centered on me, he was going to expose me somehow. My heart clenched at the possibilities.
“No worries.” He lifted up so he could sling his leg around the chair and face forward. As he did so, he said, “It’s all flattering.” That smile again. “For you, anyway.”
I locked eyes with Zane, who’d been listening despite his pretense otherwise. “Don’t let the competition get to you. You’ve got this.”
As Miranda stepped up to the microphone, I felt a light tap on my shoulder and looked over to find Alfie crouched beside me. Somehow seeing him calmed my nerves, probably because he’d given me such empowering advice twice now. “Everything okay? You ready?”
I winced. “I think so.”