Free Girl With Guitar by Caisey Quinn Page B

she could compete with his type anyways. Oh, wonderful…the last thing Kylie needed to be thinking about was competing with his women. Gross.
    Kylie felt like she’d been staring at Trace forever, but thankfully only a few seconds had passed. She knew she needed to say something, try to make things better—or at least less awkward. But no words came so she busied herself with balancing the laptop on her legs. There definitely needed to be a table in the media room.
    After she’d scrolled through her online profile, she Googled herself. All that came up was her new Facebook account, a YouTube video of her and Trace at The Rum Room that she’d already watched with Cora, and something Capital Letter Records had released about her being added to Trace’s tour. She clicked to the videos she and Cora had posted and was shocked to see that they already had several comments. She scrolled through them and tried not to freak out since Trace was still leaning in the doorway, eating an apple.
    Guess this is who Corbin is banging now.
    Girl can sing, hot little body too!
    She’s totally lip-synching! What a wannabe!
    Heard she was a waitress. Hello blondie, time to go back to your day job!
    I like her! She’s pretty and what an awesome voice! Heard she totally showed Corbin up at a sing off at a bar where she worked or something.
    How can you even understand what’s she singing? Sounds like she’s just repeating the chorus over and over. Nice tits though.
    And then there was one Kylie couldn’t even process. And not just because of the misspellings. It was posted by someone called CunTreeSux and it was awful. Kylie shuddered and started to slam the computer shut. Trace’s hand shot out and gripped the screen, startling her. She hadn’t even heard him come closer.
    She glanced at him quickly, noticing that his eyes were hard as he scanned the comments. His warm breath grazed her neck and the side of her face as he leaned in, setting her body on high alert.
    “Don’t Google yourself, ever. I mean it,” he said.
    “I just wanted—”
    “I’m not saying that the social media stuff isn’t great for your fans—it is. But there are some whack jobs out there and some just plain assholes that get off on slamming someone else. I mean, you see any of them baring their soul in front of several hundred people every night?”
    “No,” Kylie said quietly, sitting the computer aside and turning to face the man beside her. “Why do I even have to put this stuff out there if people are just going to write such horrible things about me?”
    Trace shrugged and took another bite of his apple, taking the time to chew and swallow before speaking again. “It’s supposed to be for people who like your music, but nine times out of ten the people who comment just want to tear you down. I don’t know why, but who gives a shit? It’s their problem, not yours.”
    She knew what he was saying made sense but the comment where someone had said they’d heard her sing and would rather hear baby pigs being tortured still had her cringing inside. And that one comment. Freaking hell. It made what Darla had said to her seem like a compliment.
    “Look, I know I’m the last person you want advice from, but you have to have a really thick skin for this. Like superhuman thick, because that’s what this is. You put yourself out there the night you got on stage at The Rum Room. And you will be out there from now on unless you decide to walk away from it.” Trace took another bite of his apple and stood. As he turned to leave, Kylie fought the urge to reach out to him for comfort. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her and tell her that everyone was crazy and those people were wrong about her.
    And if she was being honest? She was relieved that they were back on speaking terms. Even worse, she wanted him to look at her the way he’d looked at Cora. And probably Mia Montgomery. And maybe more than once.
    “Trace?” she called out just before he