Page 46

Chapter Forty-Six

Xavier

7 ,568,233.

That’s how many views the video of me singing Hollow Hall has on TikTok.

Seven and a half million .

It went viral overnight, hitting the hundreds of thousands, then two million by the end of the next day. A couple of celebrities shared it, and it skyrocketed. Now, four days later, it's still climbing.

I stare at my phone screen like it might short-circuit in my hands.

"Holy shit," Liam mutters for the fifth time, hunched over the counter, scrolling through his notifications."Holy actual shit."

“Dude, say another word, and I’m making it the title of our first album,” Tyler says, eyes glued to his own phone. “I need a cigar,” he adds, shaking his head. “Isn't this the kind of situation that calls for a cigar?”

“Or maybe a financial planner,” Cam deadpans, barely looking up as he scrolls. “Because if this keeps going the way it’s going, we’re gonna need one.”

I exhale sharply. The day after that TikTok hit two million, my phone exploded . Three A&R reps—basically talent scouts—called within hours of each other. Then a talent manager. A few booking agents. Two publicists.

And I am not built for this level of chaos.

Cam nearly dropped his coffee when I called him about the first A&R rep. Now, we’re all huddled around his kitchen counter, our screens lighting up faster than we can process.

“What’s the number at now?” Tyler asks .

Cam refreshes his screen. “Seven million, five hundred seventy-two thousand, eight hundred twelve.”

Liam makes a strangled sound and shoves a hand through his hair. “What the hell is happening?”

Tyler leans in. “We’re gonna be rock stars. That’s what’s happening.”

“OrXave’s gonna be a rockstar,” Liam teases. “And we’re gonna be his backup dancers.”

“Jesus, shut up,” I say, but my voice lacks conviction. Because even though this band has totally been a team effort so far, it’s my face plastered all over those viral videos. My voice people are reacting to.

Not sure how I feel about that.

Cam gasps suddenly. “What the—” He looks up from his phone. “Holy crap! Did you see who just commented on the video?”

“Who?” I’m still wading through thousands of notifications.

“Freaking Jasper Quinn .”

Liam freezes. “ The Jasper Quinn?”

“Frontman of The Fallout himself.”

“Are you messing with us right now?” Tyler breathes.

Cam flips his screen around, showing the comment: Haunting in the best way [fire emoji]

Liam grabs my shoulders. “Xave. Your voice just got Jasper Quinn’s stamp of approval. Do youget how insane that is?”

I nod, but I don’t think Idoget it. None of this feels real. Last week, I was worried about a chemistry test and whether I’d croak on stage at the Foundry. Now I’ve got record labels sniffing around and musicians I’ve idolized for years sliding into my DMs.

Cam leans against the cabinets. “Alright, so what’s the game plan? Are we calling these A&R guys back?”

Tyler smirks. “Maybe we should take a meeting on the Salt Vein private jet . ”

Cam throws a cheese puff at him. “We don’t even haveband fundsyet, dumbass.”

Liam grins. “Rockwell’s already got the jet.”

I roll my eyes. The guys hardly bring up my financial situation, or ask questions or dig or anything the way most people do once they find out who I am. That’s the thing about true die-hard musicians, I think. They might joke about making millions and the jet-setting lifestyle, but ultimately, nothing truly trumps their passion for the music itself. They geek out over that more than the money. Or fame. Or girls. It’s partly what I love about these guys.

“Hey, maybe we will be doing that world tour,” Tyler grins.

My stomach twists, excitement battling with something heavier. World tour. The words make my pulse spike, and not entirely in a good way.

Performing every night in a different city. Constant motion. Being away for months.

I swallow hard. It’s the first time I’ve let myself think past the initial thrill of holy shit, people like my music to what does this actually mean?

I want this. It’s beyond anything I’ve ever dreamed of—being able to do something large-scale with the thing I love doing the most.

But Finn is just starting to feel like he belongs. He’s counting on me. And needs me to be the one thing that staysconstant.

And Maggie? I need her. For the first time in my life, I’ve got something that feelsreal . Someone who sees through all my bullshit and actuallylikes what’s underneath. I love hanging out with her more than with anyone. I don’t want to leave her behind.

My gaze drops to my phone, as if staring at it will magically solve the equation spinning in my brain. I hate that this incredible, insane thing happening—has the potential to clash with the things I care about most.

I rub a hand over my face.

Cam nudges me. “You still breathing, Rockwell?”

I force a smirk. “Barely.”

Liam claps his hands together. “Alright. This is too much insanity. I need a break.” He scans the group. “Anyone feel like jamming?”

My muscles un-tense. “Hell, yeah.”

My mother called me three times during lunch today at school. I ignored each one. But now Denise is on my case. Texting with all caps, which means she's not messing around.

Denise

ANSWER YOUR MOTHER'S CALL.

The next time my mother calls, I pick up. Turns out Denise stayed true to her threat last night and filled my parents in on what's been going on when I failed to take action. My father was apparently already aware. Buzz, our security guy, filled him in when he had to up security because flocks of girls have been showing up at the front gate, waiting with their cellphones like I'm some hotshot celebrity. My father didn't see any reason to contact me about any of it though, clearly. It's not hard to read between the lines: he thinks the whole thing is silly and beneath him, and unlikely to last.

On the other hand, I can honestly say I have never heard my mother react so enthusiastically about anything before in my life. She is giddy with excitement. Biting at the bit to hear more about the celebrities who commented on the videos of me singing, which record labels contacted me, and what famous musicians they work with.

No surprise, she doesn't ask about the actual song. Or the band, even. "You never told me you're in a band, baby. How fun!"

She didn't even know I play guitar. Definitely didn't know I sing.

But she's thrilled at the idea of her own son getting so much public attention. Probably hoping I’ll be the next Mick Jagger, because being able to say she birthed a musical icon would be a few steps up from just being able to say she drank wine with one, I guess.

She wants to fly home tomorrow. But all I can think about is how much that would mess Finn up. And just when things are so good with him. I convince her not to come back yet, with the promise that I'll keep her in the loop with everything, and that I'll let her know once we've set up meetings with various managers and stuff so she can fly out then. You can't sign a contract with any of these agencies if you're under eighteen without a parent or guardian co-signing. I checked.

Whatever, it's fine. I'll sit through a few hours in a room with a bunch of record execs and my mother. Honestly, it isn't horrible to be doing something for once that she's interested in.

I wrote a song that resonates with people.

Might be the first time in my life I feel proud.

Still, I think of everything that's happened in the past few days, the thing that stands out the most is the fact that I wrote Hollow Hall about feeling alone in a crowd—and that ironically, over seven million people could relate to it.