Free More Than Music by Elizabeth Briggs Page B

alternative band I didn’t recognize. Lissa was the only one who buzzed for them, which explained why I hadn’t seen them yet. The auditions continued, and we all made comments about who was good and who was probably just filler while Jared took notes on his laptop. There were always a few bands that would obviously get weeded out early on. They weren’t bad, but they didn’t have the skills or experience yet for the show. I really hoped we weren’t one of those bands.
    I finished my pizza and tossed the plate. This time, my thigh touched Jared’s when I sat back down, but he didn’t react. I settled against the pillows and watched the show, but left my leg there to see if he’d do anything and—if I was honest with myself—because touching Jared woke up every inch of my body in a way I couldn’t resist. He didn’t move his leg, but he didn’t make any other moves either. I must have imagined that he’d sat closer to me earlier. And now that I wasn’t eating, I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I tried different positions—crossing my arms, leaving them at my sides, and finally settled on lacing my fingers in my lap.
    After an hour, we were finally on. We all sat up straighter and Kyle said, “Shh!” even though no one was talking. They showed part of our interview first, when we all introduced ourselves, and then they cut to a clip of us waiting before the audition with the other bands. I hadn’t realized they’d been filming us, but there was Jared singing to me in front of everyone and the look on my face of pure longing made me cringe. Was I always that obvious? They followed that clip with the interviewer asking if there was anything between me and Jared and my quick denial and then went to commercials.
    “Wow, you looked horrified by his question,” Jared said.
    “I know!” Kyle said. “Did you see her face when he asked that?”
    “Yeah, hilarious,” I said, trying to make light of it so they would move on as soon as possible.
    “Is the idea really that bad?” Jared asked.
    “No!” I said, a little too loudly. “I was just surprised when he asked me that.”
    “I love it.” Hector cracked up. “Maddie’s the one girl disgusted by the idea of dating you.”
    “Ha fucking ha.” Jared threw a crumpled–up, oil-covered napkin at Hector, who tossed it back at us. Naturally, it landed on my lap. I threw it at Kyle, and it bounced off his head and hit the floor. He gave a mock-growl, and we all laughed.
    Our laughs cut off instantly the second the show was back on. The stage turned, revealing me clutching my guitar like it would protect me from the audience somehow, and Jared looking confident and sexy as usual, a man born to be on stage. Hector started us off, and he was an animal on the drums. His muscular arms pounded away while sweat dripped down his forehead, and his energy fueled the rest of our performance. Meanwhile, Kyle bobbed his head to the music, sometimes playing the keyboard one-handed and getting the crowd going. I hadn’t seen either of them when we performed, and it was fun to watch them now.
    And then there was me. Stiff. Wide-eyed. Looking like I was about to bolt off the stage. It was obvious who the weak link in the band was, and even worse, this was on TV for the entire country to see. I might have been playing the song, but I just wasn’t bringing it.
    The mentors began buzzing for us, and on the bed, my fingers dug into the sheets, itching to get back on stage with my guitar and relive that moment. Jared’s hand slipped between our bodies, and he tangled his fingers with mine, sending a jolt under my skin. I wanted to look at him, to see his face when he squeezed my hand, but then it would make the moment too real. Instead, I kept my gaze on the screen while Jared’s thumb brushed against the spot on my wrist where my pulse raced, making my lips part with a silent sigh. None of the other guys noticed, too busy watching the mentors fight over our band on