Page 89 of Rookie Moves

“Eighth.”

Colby nods, glancing down at his soda as he runs his thumb over the condensation forming on the glass. The sudden turn in his energy has the hairs sticking up on the back of my neck.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

His eyes flick back up to mine, and that’s when I see it. He isn’t uncomfortable or anxious—he’s sad.

I rest both forearms on the table, bringing me closer to him. Lowering my voice, I ask, “What is it?”

His throat moves as he swallows.

“I didn’t realize how much I wanted this until now,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “Seeing these people be so free and comfortable to just be themselves… It makes me wish I wasn’t so afraid of what being myself will do to my career.”

My heart lurches, a deep-rooted ache that has a lump forming in my throat. I bite down on the inside of my lip, willing the burn in the back of my eyes to ease.

Reaching out, I place my hand on his forearm. “One day,” I promise, offering a hopeful smile. “One day, we’ll come back here, and you’ll get to kiss me before I get up on that stage in front of all of these people, knowing that you’re safe and loved by so many.”

Colby ducks his chin and tightens his hands around his glass as his bottom lip quivers slightly.

“I’m sorry for bringing it up. I didn’t want to ruin tonight.”

“Hey,” I say, nudging his arm until he looks back up at me. “You’re not ruining it, so quit thinking that. I get it, Colbs. I get your fears, and I’m never going to ask you to do something you’re not ready for. If we have to keep us a secret until you retire, then I will do that. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, so please don’t beat yourself up over this, okay?”

Sucking in a shaky breath, he nods a few times, then gives me a small smile. “I promise I won’t keep you waiting that long, but thank you.”

One corner of my mouth lifts in a crooked smile as I take my hand from his arm and pick up my glass.

“Good, because how else am I going to be able to declare my love for you on a sign during warm-ups?” I tease.

His face lights up as he laughs, eyes creasing with his wide smile, and the sight has warmth flooding through my chest.

Colby deserves everything good and pure in this world, and I want to be the guy who gives it to him.

We eat our food in record time, and when the lights are dimmed and the first person takes to the stage, Colby moves around the table to stand next to me. We watch each act, one different from the next, and as my turn nears, nerves bubble in my stomach.

The song I’ve picked to play is one that could be a reflection of us. There are many ways lyrics of a song can be interpreted, but to me, it’s about hiding our love from the world, and the pain and fear that comes with having to keep your true self locked away. The longing for one another and the willingness to sacrifice everything just to be with the person you love.

I haven’t told him what song it is, but I’m hoping he’ll hear my message loud and clear and know I’m singing every word from my heart.

When the seventh person leaves the stage, I pick up my soda with shaky fingers and swallow down the last mouthful, then take a deep, steadying breath.

“You’re gonna smash it,” Colby says with a hand on my lower back.

“Thanks,” I reply, hating the tremble in my voice.

Removing my guitar from the case, I take my hat off, leaving it on the table before heading over to the side of the stage where some guy called Paul hooks me up to the speakers.

“Give Derek the nod when you’re ready,” he says, pointing to the drummer, then claps a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got this. You’ve picked one helluva song.”

I let out a heavy exhale and nod. “Thanks.”

A woman with blue hair steps onto the stage and announces into the mic, “Next to the stage, please give a warm welcome to Tyler!”

Shaking my hands out by my sides, I suck in another steeling breath and walk out onto the stage to the sound of people clapping.

The lights aren’t as bright as I was expecting them to be, and my eyes instantly find Colby. He’s grinning widely, his hands pressed together in a prayer in front of his mouth.

My smile is crooked as I glance down and strum the strings with my pick. Closing my eyes briefly, I channel the same focus I have when I take to the ice before a game, then look over to Derek and give him a nod.