Kissing the Shy Guy - Stephanie Street Page 0,25

to be some incentive for him. But what? I wasn't so delusional to think he'd be swayed by the privilege of spending time with me.

I snorted at the idea as I walked the short distance between the school's main entrance and the choir room. Parents and other guests mingled in the common area waiting for the concert to begin. I threaded my way through, searching for my dad and Melly. I didn't see them, but there was still plenty of time before the concert began for them to arrive and find decent seats in the auditorium.

The choir room bustled with noise and confusion. Girls touched up makeup while Ms. Jackson straightened ties and fixed collars. Each section found separate corners of the room to warm up. A group huddled around the piano singing scales.

Lydia and Bella sang with the altos who'd congregated in a corner to my right. I had the range and could sing alto, but Ms. Jackson kept me with the sopranos. I joined them in the corner opposite the altos. We warmed up until it was time to line up off stage while Ms. Jackson spoke to our assembled audience.

I'd glanced at my phone one last time before leaving it with the rest of my stuff and heading backstage—nothing from my dad. Taking a deep breath, I followed the girl in front of me onto the risers on the stage and hoped they'd made it.

The concert had gone without a hitch—well, almost. One of the small ensembles had stumbled in the middle of their number, causing the tenors to laugh before Ms. Jackson's narrowed glare got them to stop, but that had been the worst. No one but a few on the back row had noticed that idiot Jarom Jones kicking the guy in front of him, making his knees buckle. Asher sang a solo, accompanying himself on acoustic guitar. He'd received the most applause, and rightly so. The guy was incredible. I wondered if the rumors about him were true, that his mom was somebody famous. If so, he'd done an excellent job keeping it under wraps.

My solo went well. I was happy with my performance. I hadn't spotted Dad and Melly, but the auditorium had been dark during the performance and the curtain had fallen over the stage before the house lights had been turned back on.

I hurried to the choir room to get my stuff. The commons area was stuffed to capacity with students and families. Several girls held bouquets of flowers or helium balloons. People stopped to pose for pictures, and there was a general din of excitement.

After five minutes of searching, I finally found a quiet corner at the edge of the commons and checked my phone. I read the waiting text and let out a deflated breath.

Of course.

Melly had had a meltdown when Dad picked her up from her friend's house. Dad had tried to console her, but apparently, she'd worked herself into a frenzy of sobs and tears. Once he'd calmed her down, she'd fallen asleep in the car, so he'd taken her home.

His explanation had ended with you know how she can be, and I'm sorry. Good luck. No one had come.

Over the years, I'd learned not to resent Melly for things she couldn't help, but that didn't stop the disappointment. I'd wanted her there as much as my parents. Instead, I'd had no one.

Trying not to feel sorry for myself, I hitched my bag higher on my shoulder and slowly headed for the exit. I'd seen Lydia and Bella with their families. Lydia held an enormous bouquet of red roses while Bella posed for photos with her grandma.

With my thoughts a thousand miles away, or maybe only the five it took to get to my house, I didn't pay much attention to where I was going. Bodies jostled me off my course toward the door, but I didn't care. I wasn't in a hurry, anyway.

Until I ran into something solid.

Two strong hands grabbed my shoulders. "Are you okay?"

I put a hand to my head and looked up. "Adam?" What was he doing here? And why did I keep running into him like this?

He eyed me worriedly. "Seriously, are you okay? You hit my shoulder hard.”

I rubbed the spot on my head where we'd connected. "Ouch." Feeling mildly disoriented, I couldn't decide if it was because of my head, residual frustration with my family, or Adam's close proximity.

Still holding onto me with one hand, Adam brushed my hand away