Page 22 of Don’t Let Me Go
Riley wasn’t kidding about Audrey—the girl’s got some serious pipes. She’s only halfway through her rendition of “To Love
Somebody,” strutting across the stage in her black faux-leather jacket and high-heeled boots, and already all the people in
the bar are on their feet cheering her on like she’s a legit rock star.
“ In my pain, I see your face again, it’s burning in my mind ,” she wails into the microphone, her voice tinged with a raspy growl that earns her another burst of applause.
“Dude, she’s so good!” I shout to Riley over the music.
“I know!”
“How long has she been singing?”
“All her life! Her dad’s a singer—mostly local gigs—so she grew up performing with him. It’s in her blood!”
That’s for sure. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone own a stage the way Audrey’s dominating hers right now. When she gets
to the chorus, the entire room joins in. Even the very judgy drag queens, who up until now have been unimpressed with the
caliber of performers, are waving their wigs in the air.
In fact, the only person not singing is Tala. She’s too in awe of Audrey’s talent to do anything more than stare at the stage,
a huge, lovestruck grin spread across her face. It reminds me of the way Micaela used to look at me during my games.
“The wa -a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ay I love you!”
Audrey finishes with a vocal flourish that would put Kelly Clarkson to shame, and the whole bar loses its mind. It’s like being at the Super Bowl and watching your team come from behind to win the game with a last-second touchdown. People are legitimately losing their shit.
“Why did I agree to go on after her?” Riley groans beside me as he watches Audrey soak up the almost-deafening applause.
“Don’t worry,” I assure him. “You’re gonna be great.”
“No, what I’m going to do is hide in the bathroom until they skip me.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, not so fast” I say, grabbing his arm as he tries to slip away into the crowd. “You don’t get to trick me
into coming to a gay bar because you want to sing karaoke and then not sing karaoke. You owe me a show.”
“Rain check.”
“Nope. Sorry, dude. You’re getting up there.”
Miss Understood, the drag queen who thought Riley and I were a couple, takes to the stage and resumes her emcee duties, demanding
another round of applause for the vocal pyrotechnics of Audrey O’Shea.
“I can’t follow that ,” Riley pleads, looking like he might actually be sick. “I’ll get crucified. You saw how the drag queens made that twink
cry when he messed up the lyrics to ‘Jolene.’?”
I laugh and drape my arm around his shoulder to keep him from running off. “I’ll make you a deal. You go up and sing, and
no matter what happens, I promise I will cheer for you like you’re Harry Styles and I’m your biggest fan.”
Riley tilts his head and looks at me with surprised eyes. “You will?”
“Absolutely.”
Onstage, Miss Understood announces it’s time for the next singer. She looks at the sign-up sheet and calls Riley’s name.
“You’ve got this,” I tell him, giving his shoulder a squeeze when I feel him tense.
“You better clap your ass off,” he grumbles.
I give him an encouraging push toward the stage as Audrey returns to our booth. She joins Duy, Tala, and me in cheering Riley
on, but I can tell his confidence is still shaken. As he takes his place behind the mic stand, he keeps his eyes down and
his shoulders hunched. He’s shrinking into himself.
“Go, Riley!” I shout.
The opening chords of Queen’s “Who Wants to Live Forever” begin to play, and Riley takes a deep breath.
“ There’s no time for us, there’s no place for us ,” he begins, his voice coming out thin and hesitant. I’m hoping he’ll loosen up or at least sing loud enough for the mic
to pick up his voice. But even if he doesn’t, I’ll keep my word. I’m gonna cheer for him like I’m his number one fan.
Because I am.
Riley’s been an incredible friend since I moved to Orlando. I keep having to remind myself that I met him only two weeks ago
because I feel so comfortable around him. Like I’ve known him my whole life.
For some reason, the dude just gets me. And I get him. We click.
It’s actually a little disturbing how much we click. During our late-night texting sessions, I’ve told him things that I’ve
never told anyone. I don’t mean deep dark secrets. He already knows my secrets. I mean silly, stupid stuff. It’s like all
my life I’ve been storing up these stories about myself and now I finally have someone to share them with. Someone I want to share them with. And he wants to hear them. Just like I want to learn everything about him...
“ Who wants to live forever? Who wants to live forever? ” Riley sings, his voice growing in confidence as he reaches the second chorus.
He doesn’t have Audrey’s swagger or showmanship, but there’s something compelling about his performance.
He closes his eyes the way some singers do when they’re really feeling the music, and his entire body seems to relax and expand like the song is filling him up—likes he’s becoming one with the music.
Lost in his performance, Riley is more self-assured, more alive, more himself . It’s like getting a glimpse into his soul. A soul that is strong and beautiful and familiar ...
Something stirs in the back of my mind. A buried memory pushes itself to the surface. Images of people and places I only half
recognize flicker in front of my eyes like a flip book with the pages out of order.
It makes my head spin.
I try to steady myself against the table, to focus on Riley until the dizziness passes, but I can’t seem to concentrate. The
world is going sideways.
“Jackson?”
My legs give out under me. I collapse to the floor, the weight of my own body pulling me down as the world goes dark.
Somehow, though, I can still see Riley, his face leaning over me, his clear green eyes staring into mine.
Those eyes...
“Jackson?”
I’ve seen those eyes before.
“Are you all right?”
I’ve met Riley before.
“Can you hear me?”
I know him.