Page 7 of Heartbreak Honey
Before
YOUR SONGS ARE DECENT, but you’re nothing special.
That was what the asshole at the record label had said to him.
And then the worst part: You look like you should be in a boy band.
Maybe Trevor should feel good about him saying his songs were decent. Except he suspected the guy hadn’t given the demo anything more than a cursory sixty-second listen.
No, you know what? Fuck that guy. He wasn’t even an executive. He was just a lame assistant.
Because Trevor couldn’t get any label execs to look in his direction, let alone talk to him.
So, okay, maybe he shouldn’t be so hard on the assistant.
But seriously, fuck that guy. A boy band? Wasn’t the boy band craze long over?
He had to give it a try though. He was desperate at this point. He’d been trying to get signed since he graduated high school last year, making him basically an L.A. cliché, but whatever. His mom had supported him giving it a shot at first, but now she was saying if nothing happened for him by the summer, he either needed to go to college or move out. The first option, he didn’t want, and the second, he couldn’t afford.
So here he was, auditioning for a fucking boy band.
He had a suspicion getting selected to be in a boy band had more to do with how you looked than how well you could sing. Which was mildly insulting but could work in his favor. With his blond hair and blue eyes and the way he dressed, he was aware he looked like a typical California surfer dude. Only he didn’t surf. He played guitar instead.
Not that it would do him any good here, since the flyer had said that playing an instrument wasn’t required. Which was also mildly insulting.
He’d made it through the first phase of the auditions quickly, and now he found himself waiting in a large room with a lot of other guys so he could go onto a makeshift stage and perform his song for an entire panel of people. Well, not his song. He wasn’t allowed to sing one of his own.
In the middle of psyching himself up for his turn—because yeah, this wasn’t his ideal path into the music industry, but it was the furthest he’d come so far, and he didn’t want to screw it up—loud, full-bellied laughter suddenly broke out over the din of the crowd. Trevor turned, eyes zeroing in on a skinny guy with unruly, dark, wavy hair who was clutching his stomach, bent over slightly as he continued to laugh with his whole body. The few guys standing around him were laughing too, though not nearly as raucously.
Trevor couldn’t tear his eyes away from the guy. He was gorgeous. He didn’t think he’d ever described a guy that way before, but there was no other word for it. Even from across the room, Trevor could see his huge dimples as he finally stopped laughing but remained grinning. The happiest person in the room.
The guy was skinny, but his tight jeans hugged over a pretty nice ass, and—
Wait.
What the fuck.
Why was he checking this guy out? It was one thing to notice his objectively good looks. Another to want to march over to him, fist his hand through the guy’s hair, and wrap his other arm around his small waist to pull him flush against him. Which… was what Trevor wanted to do. Fuck.
Even though he’d only ever dated girls, he’d suspected for a while now that he might also be attracted to guys. But he’d never felt an attraction to a guy strongly enough to seriously consider acting upon it.
Until right now.
“Trevor Blue? Trevor Blue?”
Oh, shit.
“Yes, here, I’m here,” he called out, raising his hand like he was still in school. How long had the woman been calling his name?
As he followed her, he had to walk right past his damn bisexual awakening. He did his absolute best to avoid looking at him again, but before he left the room, he couldn’t resist stealing one glance back. And this time the guy was looking at him too.
Trevor whipped his head forward and hurried to catch up with the woman who led him onto the stage. He was still flustered when he opened his mouth to introduce himself.
Fucking hell.