“She’s not a coward,” I shot back. “She’s sick.”
“Ah, yes. How convenient.”
Just then Wyatt walked up, carrying the hot tea I’d requested. “Hey,” he greeted, placing an arm around my shoulder after handing me the tea. “Who’s this?”
“This is Jenna,” I said. “She was just leaving.”
Jenna huffed a little laugh. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it,” she added under her breath.
Wyatt cocked an eyebrow at me. “What was that about?”
“That was Lola’s nemesis. We don’t like her.”
He grinned, nodding like the good boyfriend he was. “Noted.”
I sipped my tea as Wyatt eyed our competition. “What about her?” he asked, a mischievous grin carving his lips as he pointed to a blonde nearby. “Do we like her?”
My eyes caught on a dancer nervously chewing her fingernails. It was Lillian Preston. I’d seen her warming up earlier, without her partner, which explained the nerves.
I didn’t really know Lillian that well, but we’d met at registration and had chatted a bit in the Diva Squad group. She was gorgeous. One of those girls who just looked like she was born to be a prima ballerina. But the routine I’d seen her doing during warmups was anything but ballet. It looked incredible though. I loved that she was just going for it. Her routine was different than what I’d been expecting. I’m sure it would surprise a lot of people.
I looked adoringly at Wyatt—sometimes, different was good.
“We like her,” I finally answered.
“Okay,” he seemed to like this game, and so did I. Plus, I needed the distraction right now. “What about her?” he asked pointing to Rose Parson.
Her hair looked different from the last time I saw her, but she was just as stunning as I remembered. She had star quality written all over her. Of all the Diva Squad, I connected with her the most and was really rooting for her to win in her category. But if for some reason she didn’t, I still had every faith that I’d end up seeing her name on the big screen one day.
“That’s Rose,” I said to Wyatt. “We like her, too.”
He laughed. “Where’s your competitive spirit, Penny Layne?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not supposed to like the competition.”
“Well, I’m not really competing against them.”
“Okay. How about her?” Wyatt asked pointing to the songwriter who was scheduled to go on right before me.
I sighed. “Fine, you’re right. I don’t have a competitive bone in my body. That was always Lola’s territory.”
Wyatt put his hands on either side of my shoulders. “Come on, I know there’s a fighter in there somewhere. Where’s the girl who’s not afraid to call me out when I’m being a wanker?”
I laughed. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.” I winced as I looked at the hopeful faces of my competition. “I guess because I know if I win, it means they don’t, and I hate the idea of taking anyone’s dream away from them.”
Wyatt’s face got that dopey smile I loved. It always accompanied his declarations that made my knees weak. I wasn’t sure I could handle that right now. My knees were shaky enough as it was. But Wyatt didn’t seem to notice. He just went about being dashing and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “How on earth did I ever get so lucky?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re beautiful, funny, smart, talented and kind. And the fact that you’re so unassuming about it, just makes you even more special.” He placed the softest kiss on my lips, drawing back to take my face in his hands. “It’s okay that you don’t have a competitive nature. You don’t have any competition. No one else in the world is on your level. Just go out there and be you, and you’ve already won.”
My lips began to quiver as I felt the emotions I’d barely been containing finally burst. I threw my arms around Wyatt’s neck and held him tight.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what?”
“For being you, for seeing me, for making me feel special.”
“You are special, Layne.” He grinned. “And we’re gonna go out there and show everyone just how special your music is.”
Wyatt held me until my shaking stopped and I was able to rein in my emotions. I was actually glad I’d gotten a few tears out. I felt more solid now as I watched the first girl in the songwriter group get announced. She took the stage to massive applause.
I harnessed the energy from the butterflies in my stomach as I listened to her songs. She was good. Really good. But I knew that didn’t mean I wasn’t. I leaned back into Wyatt’s chest and let him wrap his arms around me as we both watched the next performer take the stage.
A calm settled over me as we stood there together sharing in this special experience. In a few minutes it would be even more special when we took the stage and sang together. There was nothing else in the world quite like making music with the boy I loved.
When it was finally our turn, Wyatt grinned at me and held out his hand. “You ready, Penny Layne?”
I nodded, slipping my hand into his. For the first time in my life, I truly was ready to go after my dreams. I grinned at Wyatt. It didn’t seem half as scary now that one of them had already come true.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Wyatt
I couldn’t help grinning as I watched Layne. She was in her element strumming her guitar. I was so happy that she’d carried that same confident grace I knew she possessed onto the stage today. I’d seen a lot of talented performers bomb in front of a live crowd. It was different than being in a recording studio. But Layne looked like a seasoned pro as she took the mic, thanking the crowd after the applause for our first song died down.
Bent was up next. It would be the second and final song of the audition. We’d planned to sing it together, but I caught the twinkle in Layne’s eye when she turned to me. My heart swelled, because I knew what she was going to say even before she spoke, and I’d never been more proud of her.
“This next song, I wrote for someone very special. I wrote if for myself, so I think I’m going to do this one by myself if that’s okay.”
I gave her a nod, grinning so big it hurt. “Knock ‘em dead, Penny Layne,” I whispered, giving her a wink as I got up from the piano and hurried off stage.
I dashed down into the audience as quickly as my Franken-boot would allow, grabbing one of the seats up front that had been reserved for the performers. I blew Layne a kiss and she began to play.
As usual, watching her sing blew me away. She seriously had no clue how powerful her songs were with her voice behind them.
The lyrics to Bent drifted through the auditorium almost lazily. That’s how good Layne’s slow, honeyed voice was. It seemed effortless. And to her, it probably was. That’s what made her one of the rare talents in this room. She was born to do this.
She sat up there on a stool, so small and unassuming. If you didn’t know her, it was easy to see just a tiny girl—someone easy to overlook. I could see how a lifetime of that perception had shaped her into someone who was scared to show that she could be more, do more, have more.