Page 32 of Grown

The van shrieks with glee, girls wiggling in their seats.

“OMG! She totally slays.” Mackenzie grins, bumping my shoulder.

“Totally,” Hannah says. “OMG, Enchanted! You HAVE to sing this!”

“Yeah! Next talent competition.”

Do they know ANY other singers besides Beyoncé and Ariana?

I wince a smile as a text buzzes. Korey.

Can’t wait to see that pretty ass smile of yours tomorrow. Wear something that shows them curves

Chapter 20

Your Eyes

“Don’t take off your coat. We’re taking a class trip,” Korey says, slipping on a leather jacket. “Tony’s already in the car downstairs.”

“Where are we going?” I ask, catching up to him. Mom just dropped me off. She’ll have no idea we’re going somewhere... alone.

He smirks. “You’ll see.”

We enter the Beacon Theatre, way different while empty and the houselights on.

“The place where we first met,” he says with a dimpled grin.

“What are we doing here?”

Despite meeting Korey, I don’t have good memories of this place. The wounds from the audition are still raw, and I’m itching to run back home.

“You have to get used to performing. Only place to do that is onstage. We have an hour. Let’s get to work.”

We pick a song from my favorite Whitney Houston album. A song I’ve sung a million times over. As I sing, Korey circles me, hand on his chin, deep in thought. Meanwhile, I’m loving the change in scenery. My voice seems to carry farther onstage than in the studio or my bathroom. Without the audience, my nerves aren’t a tangled web. Still, Korey is here. Korey Fields! Every few seconds I want to pinch myself to check if I’m dreaming.

I’m knee-deep in the song when Korey pauses the music.

“What’s up?” I ask, winded.

“You’re... stiff.”

“Huh? No, I’m not! I’m singing from my diaphragm,” I say, poking my stomach. “See? Like you taught me.”

He shakes his head. “This song. The way you sing it, is different than the others.”

I shrug. “It’s just a song.”

“It’s more than that. Your smile... this songmeanssomething to you.”

I swallow but hold a straight face. “OK... so what exercises you got for that?”

“Simple,” he says. “You gotta sing from your heart, Bright Eyes.”

I huff. “And how you expect me to do that?”

He pauses, as if considering his next move, and pushes hesitation aside to take my hand. For a split second, his fingers thread between mine before he places my hand on my chest and holds it there. I gulp at the fire sizzling in his eyes. He feels larger than the theater, maybe the entire city.

“Aight, your heart is nothing but a muscle. It contracts and expands, working just as hard as any other muscle. The difference is, the blood pumping through it pumps through your entire body. That blood holds memories. Things you try to forget but it won’t let you. You have to use those memories, use that blood to fuel you. But that blood can’t move through you unless you relax. Release your hand, Bright Eyes.”