Risky Rockstar: A Hero Club Novel, стр. 30

I was happy to spend the night on my couch watching the Oscars. I love award shows; I love seeing what everyone is wearing and what they were nominated for. I especially love the Golden Globes and the Oscars since I’m not the one waiting with bated breath to see if I’ve been nominated or if I win. No jokes, when I won the Grammy, I was silently hoping I wouldn’t the entire time because nerves for giving a speech are unlike the nerves I get when I’m onstage performing. I legit wanted to vomit the entire time I was sitting there.

“I’m calling you to give you some good news. LP-45 are in. They agreed to make the album with you. Their label already drew up a contract. It’s for the nine-song deal you proposed, including the one you made as a test, and if things work out, a possible tour. I read over the contract and had Marcus look over it too. He’s pretty happy, and for a lawyer that says something. Hayley, you’re golden here, girl. These boys are the real deal, everything is on the up-and-up.”

“Are you serious?” I squeal down the phone. “They said yes? This is incredible!”

“It really is. I’m sending the contract over now with DocuSign. Have a run through it when you’ve got a minute, and we’ll get it all finalized.”

“Oh my God, I’m so excited. I’ll look over it now. And Sam, thank you. I know I didn’t include you in the first place, but I have a good feeling about this.”

“Me too, doll. Have a look and sign the docs. Then I’ll get the ball rolling.”

I grab my laptop and settle in to read through the contract. It’s pretty standard with everything cut down the middle for LP-45 and me. There’s no fine print, and the only clause is that we each get to continue on with our pre-existing commitments—those being their latest album and the second half of my tour. We’re going to be busy, but the contract is pretty cut-and-dried and I’m excited about it. Kade and I are going to work on another song together, and if we can’t make it work within thirty days, the contract is canceled without penalty. It really is a sweet deal, one I’ve hardly ever heard of in the music industry. It feels good that my feelings on something were right. Lately, with the whole Ethan mess, it’s been hard for me to believe I still have good instincts.

I’ve just signed and sent off the contract when my phone buzzes. I look down and see it’s a number I don’t recognize, but the text makes me smile.

UNKNOWN: This is Kade from LP-45. I hope this is okay, I got your number from the contract. I just wanted to say I’m stoked about working with you. We all are.

I ignore the flutter in my belly when I read Kade’s words. Stupidly, we didn’t exchange numbers after we worked in the studio together. Telling myself to be cool, I think about what I’m going to type. When I’m this excited, I tend to do gushy, and gushy isn’t always professional.

ME: This is more than okay. I’m excited too. Thanks for not screwing me with the contract.

I hit Send and groan. Well done, Hayley. Not only did I use the word “screwing” in a text to Kade freaking Tennick, I also sound totally overeager.

I save Kade’s number so I’ll have it and see the jumping dots on the screen.

KADE: Is it lame that I’m already thinking about a song?

Call me giddy, but the thrill I feel over Kade being eager about writing a song with me is the most excited I’ve been in a long time. I flop back against the couch and grin like a loon. I’m legit so excited I can’t stop my fingers from shaking.

ME: Not at all. What are you thinking?

I sigh with relief when I manage to get a semi-sane text out. Kade and I text back and forth for over forty-five minutes, the sound of the Oscars in the background a nice backdrop to this conversation. Kade has some incredible ideas, and I’ve been tempted to suggest a phone call, but I’m suddenly nervous of hearing his voice again after the other day and possibly saying something stupid to embarrass myself. It doesn’t make sense, but the nerves are real. We finally decide on something upbeat and fun, a high-tempo song about new adventures. I see the dots at the bottom of my screen and Kade’s name flash. Every time I see those dots, things happen in my body that sends currents to my belly. This, just brainstorming with Kade, has me so energized.

KADE: I better let you go, I’ve monopolized more than enough of your time.

ME: Not at all. It’s been fun.

More jumping dots.

KADE: It has. Enjoy the rest of your week. Any fun plans?

I legit need to stop myself from crawling up the back of my couch when I read Kade asking me about my plans. I don’t get it, I really don’t. I shared lasagna and beer with the guy, so why am I now all first-date jittery when he’s just being polite?

ME: I’m doing a concert tomorrow.

My fingers hover over the keys, and I’m reluctant to share the next part. I hate that I’m about to lie to Kade, but he’s probably going to hear about it, and as much as I’d like to tell him the full story, it’s not my story to tell. I can’t betray Kevin’s confidence.

ME: It’s sort of a coming-out show for Kevin and me.

This time it takes a lot longer for the text to appear. Like a full five minutes.

KADE: You two look good together.

His response fills me with…disappointment? That can’t be right? I shrug it off. Tonight is not the night to dwell on this. Tonight is all about the good things. We say goodnight, and I spend the longest time reveling in this really incredible moment. I’m