by Mia Harlan
“Took your breath away, didn’t we?” JJ winks at me.
“Um…” My cheeks burn.
“Ignore him,” Tate says. “What did you think so far?”
“Well…” I stall. How do I tell him the truth when he rescued me and took care of me and gave me a place to stay? He invited me to the rehearsal. How can I possibly tell him the performance sucked?
“We don’t have time for this bullshit,” Silas snaps. “The audition’s next week. We need to rehearse and not stand around and wait for some spoiled princess—”
“Silas,” Charles snaps. “I think you should go cool off.”
They glare at each other for a few seconds while my heart races over the word princess. Then Silas throws up his hands and storms out.
As soon as he’s gone, it’s like this physical tension seeps out of me. My shoulders relax and I smile. Tate smiles back. He stares at me hopefully and I can’t bear to hurt his feelings. I cast a desperate glance at Charles. He scratches his beard.
“We want your honest opinion, Roonie,” JJ says. Charles nods.
If they want me to be honest, then I guess I owe them my honesty. But how do I do that without hurting their feelings? Maybe, like a fairy godmother.
This summer, I binged a cartoon about fairy tales. It was kind of silly, and definitely meant for kids, but the cute songs sprinkled throughout were actually quite useful.
In this one episode, the princesses were practicing archery. Most were hitting the bullseye, but one particular princess wasn’t very good. No one wanted to hurt her feelings and tell her, so Fairy Godmother sang about making a criticism sandwich. You layer a compliment, then some suggestions for improvement, and then another compliment. It was meant to help the girls improve their aim without giving up, but it should work well enough here.
“Your voices are all very beautiful,” I say carefully, setting down the first metaphorical slice of bread, “And you’re good at projecting your sound. Plus, the fairy tale theme was…there.”
“However?” Charles fills in like he’s reading my mind.
I clear my throat. “Every performance piece has its strengths and weaknesses,” I say carefully.
“That bad, huh?” JJ teases.
“No, no,” I assure him. “It’s not bad. It just needs…Um…”
The guys stare at me expectantly: three knights awaiting word from their princess.
“It has a lot of potential. There were just some parts that maybe need a little more work.”
Charles scratches his beard and nods as he considers my words. “Which parts?”
I gulp. “Um…”
“All of them?” JJ supplies helpfully. “Because our whole performance sucks?”
“Of course it doesn’t suck!” I cry. “I never said that.”
“But you were thinking it?” Tate slides onto the piano seat next to me. He leaves a little bit of space between us but sits so our legs touch. Like at the Campus Health Center, I’m not sure if he’s even aware of it.
“It’s fine if you don’t like our song, Roonie.” Charles moves to my other side. I try to shift over to give him space, but it’s a small bench that definitely can’t fit three people. Especially when one of those people is Charles.
He places his huge hand on my shoulder and the heat from his touch seeps in through my sweater. He doesn’t try to sit, but even standing at my side he still leaves me pinned between him and Tate. It reminds me of last night and I gulp.
“We know our audition’s terrible,” JJ drawls. “Tate and Charles invited you here so you could see for yourself.”
“But why?” I turn from him to Tate and then crane my neck to look up at Charles’s towering form.
“We were hoping…” JJ steps forward and takes my hand in his.
Once again, all three guys surround me. This time, instead of comforting and consoling me, they’re asking me for my help. JJ is in front of me, holding my hand. Charles is on my right—instead of on my left like he’d been last night—his huge hand on my shoulder. Tate’s on my left, his leg still pressed casually against mine.
My heart stutters and resumes at breakneck speed. When JJ flips my hand over and draws a circle on my palm with his thumb, I barely suppress a whimper. “We were hoping,” he repeats, his voice dropping an octave, “that you could help.”
“With your song?” I ask, feeling a bit lightheaded.
“Would you?” JJ breaths.
“I…I guess I could suggest a few changes.” Even if I can’t think of what they might be at this moment. I’m not sure I even remember my own name.
“Actually…” Tate draws my attention even as JJ continues to run his thumb along my palm, “we were hoping you’d let us use your song from last night.”
It takes me a second and then my eyes widen. “You want to audition with my song?”
I can understand asking me for some pointers. They’ve gone over this song so many times they could probably use an outside opinion. Honestly, they could use any opinion. And possibly a girl to hit a few of the higher notes. Obviously not me, since I don’t have a great singing voice, but I can hit considerably higher notes than JJ. And I'm sure a princess dress would look much prettier on my apples as opposed to his.
A lot of things would look incredibly hot on JJ, but a princess dress is not one of them. I picture the pink frilly thing stretched across his broad, muscular chest, the empty cups stuffed with spare socks. The cotton cleavage in my head overflows into a forest of chest hair, the effect so absurd that I shake my head to make it go away. It's so not a good look on JJ.
“He was misunderstood, but so was she,” Tate suddenly breaks into song. It takes me a second to realize that he’s not talking about JJ. He’s singing my song.
“They were both all alone in misery,” Charles croons. It’s the first time I get to hear my words in his voice and my heart melts.
“And then one day their paths crossed, and it was fate,” JJ continues, making the sweet line more flirtatious than I’d intended. To be fair, it is JJ, and he can make anything sound flirtatious.
I get lost in the moment—in their voices—as they take turns singing my song, line by line. I feel like I’ve crash-landed in a dream, a fairy tale, where I’m surrounded by princes who serenade me.
That they do so with my words, which they’ve memorized, floors me. I’m also equally shocked that they sound good together. I know it’s not true a cappella since they’re not harmonizing, but it’s so much better than their rendition of Apples.
“It’s a really good song, Roonie,” Tate tells me when the three of them have reached the end of the verse.
“You don’t have to say that.” I know this particular song isn’t all that great. It was just something silly I made it up on the spot.
“It’s true.” Tate stares at me intently. “And it’s way better than what we have now.”
I nod. Practically anything is better than what they have now. “I know it’s just an audition, not an actual performance, but…”
“It’s not just an audition,” Charles says seriously. “It decides whether or not we get to represent the school in the regional tournament.”
“It’s a really big deal,” Tate adds in agreement.
“Then why ask me? Especially when you have Silas?” And his gut-wrenching song that spoke to my soul.
“Silas is still working on the same song he’s been trying to perfect since September,” Tate explains.
“Yeah, but can’t you use one of his other songs?” I ask hopefully. It’s not that I don’t want to give them my song. I’m just terrified that the judges will hate it. That I’ll be the reason the guys fail their audition.
“None of them are about fairy tales. The competition is themed, so if we use anything else the judges can disqualify us.”
“Can’t you just change some of the words?”
“We tried that, but his songs…they’re…” Tate looks at the other guys for help.
“
Different?” JJ suggests, running his thumb along my wrist. I shiver.
“They just don’t work.” Tate sighs.
“Which is why we need your help,” JJ murmurs. He squats down so we’re at eye level and places a warm hand on my knee. “Please, Roonie? Can we use your song?”
JJ stares at me with puppy dog eyes and my heart melts.
If the guys are so desperate for a song that they’re willing to audition with my mediocre chorus for Beauty and the Beast, it’s the least I can do. I nod. “But…” All three guys tense, and I rush to explain, “it really isn’t a great song. It’s just something silly I came up with.”
“It’s not silly.” Charles scowls.
“I’m just saying I’ve got better songs.” They weren’t good enough to get me a scholarship at LUV Academy, or even regular admission—not that I could have afforded it if I did get in.
But I didn’t.
Granted, I’d sung them all in my whiny voice. Maybe with the guys singing it, it would actually be good enough.
“Can we use one of them?” JJ presses, his eyes locked on mine.
I nod and he breaks into a grin. Tate does, too, and even Charles smiles happily.
JJ pulls me to my feet and all three guys close around me in a group hug. Their hard, muscular chests press in all around me and strong arms pull me close. I feel safe and warm and happy. I can’t believe they want me to help them with their song. For the first time in my life, I feel like I belong.
Chapter 27
The guys walk with me as far as the clock tower before we part ways. The plan is for Charles and me to work on the song while Tate and JJ meet up with their study group.
It’s just another reminder that, unlike me, the guys all go to college, but I try to focus on happier things. Like the fact that the guys want me to help with their audition song. And that Silas isn’t around.
A part of me is glad the Dark Prince never came back after he stormed out of rehearsal, but I know he’ll be back. It makes me nervous, but I also can’t stop thinking about the moment we met. Wishing he didn’t hate me.
“I’ll see you tonight, Roonie.” Tate wraps me in a tight hug. He holds me against his chest for a few sweet, heart-pounding seconds and then he abruptly lets go. “I can’t wait to hear the song you decide on.”
“You sure you want to work on this with Charles?” JJ asks, throwing an arm around my shoulder.
“Y-yeah.” I blush as he pulls me into his side. “Why?”
“Because…” JJ wraps a strand of my hair around his finger and gives it a tug, “you’d have a lot more fun working with me.”
“Cut it out, JJ.” Tate pulls him away from me.
“Ignore him, Roonie.” Charles grunts in agreement and moves to my side.
“Or you could ignore both of them and spend the night with me.” JJ winks.
Tate rolls his eyes. “Thank you for coming to our rescue, Roonie.”
“Me?” My eyes widen.
I’ve written songs about princesses who rescue their princes. I just never thought I’d be one of them. Then again, I never expected to meet the three princes, so maybe fairy tales can come true?
“We owe you one,” JJ agrees. He gives my hair another tug and leans closer. “I’d be more than happy to repay you. Personally.”
I don’t think his offer is sincere—there’s no way he’d actually be interested in me and I doubt he’d hit on me so openly in front of his roommates unless he was just playing. I know all that but heat still travels up my neck all the way to the tips of my ears.
JJ chuckles.
“If you need a guitar, you can borrow mine,” Tate says, and my embarrassment is quickly replaced with panic. Another thing I’ve screwed up.
“I, um, don’t need a guitar…” I shake my head emphatically. “Because it’s a cappella. You know…singing without instruments?”
“You’re the artist.” Tate shrugs. “But hey, if you change your mind, Charles can show you where I keep it. There’s also a piano in the music room.”
“You have a music room?” My eyes light up. Then I remember that I’d just said I didn’t want instruments. “Not for today, of course. I really don’t need any instruments today.”
“There’s one in the music building. It’s got tons of instruments and great acoustics. I’ll take you there sometime.” Tate gives me another hug, which I definitely don’t deserve. “We better get going or the others will think we’re no-shows.”
JJ gives my hair another tug and slaps Charles on the shoulder in parting. Then he follows Tate, leaving me completely alone with the Beast.
“Come on.” Charles places a huge hand on the small of my back and steers me away from the apartment.
“Where are we going?” I ask nervously. I may have gotten lost on the way to rehearsal, but I can practically see the apartment building. “Shouldn’t we be going that way?”
“I thought we’d grab something to eat first.” Charles stops and waits for me to agree before leading the way.
We turn onto a narrow path, which barely has enough room for the Beast’s huge frame, let alone both of us side by side. He wraps his arm around me, pulling me close, and somehow, we both fit.
You’d think that after running all over campus, trying to find the rehearsal space, all these paths would start to look familiar. They don’t. I definitely would have noticed the giant sculpture of the frowning man that I see to my left. Birds perch on his head and white droppings trail down his surly face. I know there’s a song there somewhere, but Charles’s nearness makes it hard to think.
“Hear that?” he asks.
I catch the faint trickling of water in the distance and nod.
“It’s one of my favorite spots on campus.”
We turn the corner and I see why.
A large fountain graces the center of a paved quad. It’s tiered like a wedding cake, layer after layer of concentric circles. Water cascades down each level like a miniature model of a waterfall flowing down the face of a mountain. There’s something magical about it and I barely resist the urge to sing.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper instead.
Charles nods and leads me across the quad. Fancy shops line all four sides, and he stops in front of a charming bistro. The elegantly stylized sign out front tells me it’s Chez Caviar, the place Charles ordered from last night.
Shielding my eyes from the glare coming off the huge windows, I peer inside. The back wall is lined with shelf after shelf of spotless wine glasses. Burgundy tablecloths drape over minimalist tables, each one home to a bud vase with a single rose.
“We’re eating here?” I ask, eyes wide.
I can see why the Beast feels at home here, but I’m no Beauty. Even in my new, expensive clothes, I feel underdressed. I finger-combed my hair this morning but I’m wearing zero makeup. Another girl might be able to pull this look off, but not me. I’ll probably knock something over before we even make it to the table.
“We can dine in if you like, but I was thinking takeout. That way we can eat while we work.”
“Definitely takeout.” I nod in relief.
Charles holds the door open for me and we step inside. As fancy as this place looked from the outside, it is even more unbelievable on the inside. The air is perfumed with the delicate scent of fresh herbs. The tiles sparkle beneath my feet, making me feel like I’ve been transported into a magical world.
A waiter decked out in a burgundy vest and matching bow tie is folding cloth napkins into ruffly formations. He’s dressed like the delivery man who showed up at the apartment last night, and an identically-clad woman crosses the room with a tray of silverware. It’s all polished to a mirror shine and for a second, I wonder what songs the spoons, forks, and knives would sing if they were enchanted.
“Takeout or dine in, Mr. Harrington?” the woman asks. I gawk. They know him by name here?
“Takeout, please. I’ll have my usual and…what would you like Roonie?”
&nbs
p; “Menu, Miss?” the waitress adds. She grabs a leather folder that matches her vest from the nearest table.
I open it and frown. Canapés, foie gras, canard. I don’t know what any of this stuff is. I’m not even sure it’s in English. I glance at the prices instead. They make me feel a little faint, but Charles is waiting for me to order. I skim the numbers and pick the cheapest option. I can’t pronounce it, so I point and tilt the menu for Charles to see.
“Escargot? Good choice.” He nods approvingly and adds a few more things to our order.
The only thing that sounds at all familiar is caviar, like the restaurant name, and my eyes widen. “That’s too much, Charles.”
“The portions are quite small, Miss.” The waitress smiles like ordering a hundred dollars worth of caviar for lunch is no big deal. Maybe if you’re Charles, it’s not.
I’m still a bit overwhelmed when he leads me back outside to wait for our order. We sit on a bench, listening to the soft splashing from the water fountain. I press my hands against the soft wood, which has been warmed by the sun, and take in the sensation.
“You alright?” Charles pulls me into his side.
I nod. I’m surrounded by warmth—from the sun, the bench, his body—and I close my eyes and enjoy the moment.
“Do you know which of your songs you’d like us to use?” Charles asks, his chest vibrating against my side.
“Not really.” I shake my head.
I’d told the guys I’ve written other songs, from my all-time favorite about Cinderella and her princes, to the little mermaid song I wrote when I didn’t get into LUV Academy. They’re all objectively better than the song Tate sang to me before our first kiss, even if that tune now means the world to me. I’m just not sure any of my songs will be good enough. What if the guys bomb their audition and it’s all my fault?
I really want to believe that my song, coupled with the guys’ voices, will be enough. But we’re talking about a college-level competition here. I submitted my best songs with my application for admission and still got rejected. Why would this be any different?
“I don’t know if I can do this, Charles,” I say, my panic reflected in my voice.
