Writing Our Song by Emma South Read Online (FREE)
Read Writing Our Song: A Billionaire Romance by Emma South (Our Song, #1) full novel online for free here.
There’s a quiet terror just before walking on stage to sing. Out there in front of a couple thousand people, anything could go wrong. What if the equipment malfunctioned? What if I forgot the words? What if they didn’t like our music?
As I stood on the steps leading up to the stage I could feel my heart absolutely thundering in my chest while my knuckles turned white on the handrail. I couldn’t go out there. They’d have to send in the fire department with the Jaws of Life to cut me free, because damned if I was letting go.
I turned to face my dad, who had stepped in as our roadie and helped set up our equipment over the past several hours. Without him we might not have got the gig here at this annual event celebrating Seattle’s cultural history. We were just a high school band after all, but we were cheap. Our sample had been impressive enough to whoever makes the decisions and so here we were at the Seattle Days Festival.
He’d be crestfallen about what I was about to say but I just couldn’t do it, not in front of this many people. My mouth was open but no words had yet come out when he put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a snippet of the kind of sage advice that I’d come to know him for.
“If you don’t get on that stage and knock this one out of the park, you’re grounded for five years,” he said, successfully keeping a straight face. “And I might not love you anymore.”
In an instant I felt the terror give way to laughter and my fingers released the handrail. I could do this, I’d practiced too much to quit now. The band, my band, was already on the stage, I couldn’t let them down. With a glance around to make sure nobody was watching, I gave him a hug.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said and then turned to climb the few remaining steps.
The crowd had cheered when we were announced and other members of the band had stepped on to stage, only to quieten again while the three boys tinkered with their instruments and I had my little moment out of view to the right. The applause began anew when I walked out and they saw I was heading for the microphone at front and center.
I stared resolutely ahead, focused only on step-one, which was getting to the mic and taking refuge behind whatever shelter the thin pole it was attached to could provide. Once in place, I grasped the stand and stared at my feet for a moment before looking up.
We weren’t exactly playing to a packed stadium or anything, but to me it looked like an endless sea of expectant faces. Expectant… not hostile or critical. In fact, some of them looked downright enthusiastic, having taken advantage of the refreshments tent throughout the course of the day.