Page 50 of Dream On

A beat passes.

My muscles tighten as I wait for the inevitable.

Hot.

Handsome.

Sexy.

But when her eyes lift all the way up, locking with mine, they soften into melted jewels. She smiles. “Like a star.”

Chapter 13

Stevie

The swing gently sways forward and back as I dangle precariously from ten feet above the stage. I can hear a pin drop as I wait for my cue, my fingers curled around the ropes as a harness keeps me tethered to the ceiling. The moment I think about dropping pins, I remember dropping off the stage last week, and then I imagine dropping right now, the ropes fraying, the harness snapping, the ceiling caving in on me while the audience shrieks and castmates scatter.

I’ve never been afraid of heights, considering my favorite place in the world to be is perched atop my roof at midnight. But I might be now. I easily could be.

Focus, Stevie. Center yourself.

The first note rings out. A strobe casts muted light across my body while the swing carefully lowers me from the ceiling. I don’t dare glance out at the audience, terrified I’ll become blinded and my words will tangle and skew.

Pulling in a deep breath, I part my lips.

And I sing.

Diamonds.

They are forever.

And so is this moment, as I’m gracing the stage in a sparkling blue dress. It’s a forever moment, one that will chase me in my dreams and follow me for years to come, reminding me that I was once brave and audacious, regardlessof where my future takes me.

I’m lowered to the stage floor as Lex approaches, wide-eyed and entranced. I find his gaze for a beat, though I’m not supposed to be singing for him. But he’s there, so I can’t unsee him standing beside me in his violet suit jacket and crisp white shirt, and all I can taste is the tension in the room as he watches me, hypnotized.

My eyes close as I daintily kick my feet on the swing and force everything around me to blur.

I sing my solo without a flaw or crack.

As the song fades out, Lex whispers softly, “I’ve never seen anyone like her before.”

The lights dim, curtains closing.

I pop off the swing as the audience’s cheers seep through velvet drapes. Blowing out a calming breath, I glance at Lex as he studies me, still looking oddly bewitched. Our eye contact holds for another stretch before he blinks, then shakes away the fog.

The show progresses in bursts of movement and color. Costume changes, makeup touch-ups. Coffee pours down my throat, followed by water, followed by a mouthful of hair spray, followed by more water.

Sweat trickles down my temple. I use a cloth to dab away the moisture, watching as Mr. Hamlin becomes a cloud of plum suspenders and waving hands.

Everything is go, go, go, and my heart is trying to keep up.

I observe from behind the scenes as Lex performs a song without me, and he’s flawless, effortless in his delivery. I don’t think there will ever be a day when I watch him like this, just as he is right now, and manage to hold back tears. That’s his power: spinning his art into something so pure, it reaches inside me and clutches my heart until all I can do is cry.

The next bit is “El Tango de Roxanne,” and my pulse jumps with the memory of our almost kiss. Jameson comes up beside me, nudging me with his shoulder.

“This is my favorite scene,” he says, vibrating with adrenaline. I feel it transfer over to me, sweeping through my limbs in nervous waves.

I peer up at him with a smile, blinking away the remnants of tears. “You’redoing great.”