I wasn’t the only one battling insecurities.
Rose’s posts really hit home. I felt a connection with her and wished she was a student at Northwood. I could see myself being friends with her. I decided to post a quick message of encouragement and wished her and the other divas good luck. Then I clicked back onto the scholarship page to scope out my competition.
There was a total of six songwriters in the competition. I could see all of them had their songs uploaded already but couldn’t see whose was whose. The mp3 files were ghosted out since the voting wouldn’t go live until tomorrow night, but my nerves prickled with anticipation.
I was all for being confident, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to psych myself out by listening to their songs before the actual competition. This whole owning my inner diva thing was new for me. Maybe I should take baby steps.
I stared at my boring old screen name and decided maybe that would be a good place to start . . .
Chapter Forty-Eight
Wyatt
“For what it’s worth, I think we should go with Bent. The song is incredible and it’s the most you.”
Layne sat in my car, chewing her lip as we drove to school Monday morning. The confident girl who’d left my house last night was nowhere to be found.
“Yeah. I think that’s my favorite song, too. I guess I’d be okay with using that track for the popular vote, but I like the version where we’re both singing.”
I sighed, hoping we were past this. “I respectfully disagree.”
“Why?”
“Because of everything I just said. The song is about you. It resonates more with just your voice.”
“Last week you argued it needed to be a duet.”
“That’s because I was trying to get you to sing. But after hearing you belt it out last night, there’s no going back. That’s how that song is meant to be sung.”
Layne rolled her eyes. “Well, I guess we’re just going to have to agree to disagree.”
“We have to come to some sort of decision. You have to upload a song to the voting site today.”
“I have until five o’clock,” she argued, like we’d somehow come to an agreement by then.
In the short time I’d known her, I’d learned that Layne was every bit as stubborn as I was, so I didn’t see either of us changing our minds. Short of dragging her back to see my grandparents again, I didn’t know how I could convince her that she needed to do this, but I was certainly going to try. “The song is just so much more vulnerable when you sing it by yourself.”
“That’s the problem,” she muttered.
Okay, I could see her point. Telling someone who was scared to expose their soul to the world that they’re more vulnerable singing alone wasn’t going to win her over. I needed a new strategy. “Think of it like this. It’s like having a favorite song, then all of a sudden learning the version you’d been listening to your whole life was a cover. And the original artists are The Beatles.”
She glared at me. “Are you seriously comparing me to The Beatles?”
“I’m just making a point.”
“Not a very good one, because I’m definitely not even in the same arena as them.”
I pulled into the school lot and parked my car, not turning it off right away. I could feel the frustration and fear building in Layne as she stared ahead through the windshield. Her big brown eyes were as thoughtful as ever, and she wrapped her arms tighter around her, crushing my leather jacket to her like it was protective armor.
I was grateful that spring was slow to come this year because I loved seeing her wear it. It reminded me what was at stake. I wanted to see if there was a future with this girl. And to do that, I needed to protect her heart, while still finding a way to help her succeed.
There had to be a way to do both.
I reached over and turned the music down on my stereo, letting my hand rest on the volume dial for a moment before gathering the courage to reach across and take Layne’s hand in mine. I always felt like she took me more seriously when we were physically connected, but each time I touched her it made it harder for me to remember my boundaries.
I threaded my fingers through hers, noting how perfectly her small hand fit in mine. I let my thumb brush a slow