He has amazing talent that doesn’t always get to shine because of boy band dynamics, but it’s his voice that made me fall in love with him once upon a time.
His voice is the reason I gave Eleven “Someone Else’s Perfect.” I mean, the royalty option helped in the decision-making, but it was Harley who sold me on it.
When we get to the chorus of “Tennessee Whiskey,” I join in on the harmonies.
And this is the part where I hate having a connection to Harley. When we’re singing and messing around with our music, there’s an undeniable connection between us.
We complement each other, and I feel the emotion of the song in my bones.
I guess I’m lucky he picked a song that has negative connotations for me. Anything that reminds me of Tennessee and my upbringing is enough to turn me sour.
During the next chorus, Harley moves closer. Glaring at him and mentally telling him that’s a bad idea goes unheard.
We come so close we share the one microphone, and I hate how magical it feels as we sing the powerfully effortless lyrics together.
The label is going to have a fit over this, and it’s the type of moment that will go viral. But it’s not as if Harley gave me a choice here. What am I supposed to say about him hijacking my stage? Get back in your corner, bitch? That’d bring more attention than singing with him.
We finish the song and breathe heavy, and he stares at me in the way that used to make it easy to get lost in him.
While we were singing together, I felt that bond I’ve always had with him, but right now, there’s something missing.
That connection’s severed.
It’s like we used to be wired together, but when we were torn apart, we spent months trying to fix us the wrong way. Now, it’s as if those wires don’t even match up anymore.
Harley steps back, away from the mic. “You can’t tell me you and your hockey player have even half as much chemistry. You can’t fake what we just did.”
My gaze flies to Soren, where he has stood for the last three shows. Even with his arms folded, pissed-off look on his face, and flushed red from jealousy or anger or maybe both, Soren makes butterflies swarm in my gut.
Harley’s wrong about one thing. While Harley and I have undeniable chemistry, Soren and I have something fundamentally deeper. So much so I don’t even know what to call it.
And Harley pulling this stunt might’ve put all of it in jeopardy.
Harley exits stage right after waving to the crowd again, and I’m left with a total mind blank. I need to do something. Like sing, maybe. I guess. Fuck, what song were we up to on the set list?
We can’t leave the stage without singing our closing song, which is “Hat Trick Heartbreak,” so my fingers do the work for me and start the song on my guitar.
Both Benji and Freya look at me weird because I know I’ve skipped over a couple of songs, but I need off this stage ASAP.
We kinda fumble our way through it. The backup band sings more than I do, but we get there in the end.
In a bit of a zombie state, I leave the stage unsure if I even tell the audience goodnight.
Just like in Seattle and Vancouver, Soren’s right there, waiting for me. Only tonight, he looks unamused.
“Are you okay?” His frown is deep.
I try to shake off the encounter with Harley. “I’m fine. Just … taken off guard. Let’s get out of here.”
Luce appears out of nowhere like he always does. “Jay, there are reporters who want to talk to you about the impromptu duet.”
“Damn it.”
“They’re in your dressing room.”
We move as a group and meet two journalists waiting for us.
“Y’all are gonna miss Eleven’s opening song.”
“I just want a quick quote,” one of them says. “Did you know Harley was going to do that, or was it spontaneous?”
“Definitely spontaneous, but that’s Harley for you. He was probably bored backstage waiting for his turn.”
“You sing amazingly together,” the other says.
“We’ve become friends being on the road together for two tours now. We jam sometimes.” Even I’m impressed with my casual tone.
“So, the rumors of a rift between you and Eleven aren’t true?”
I huff. “I know not to bite the hand that feeds me. I don’t have a problem with anyone from Eleven.”
“But they have a problem with you?”
Ugh. Reporters.
Luce makes a slashing motion at his neck.
“If y’all will excuse me, my boyfriend needs me.”
Luce pushes Soren closer to me, and the reporters turn and stare. Soren does this adorably awkward wave. It takes all my strength not to laugh at him.
“I’ll let you guys get back to the concert.” I take Soren’s hand and walk out before they get a chance to ask any more questions.