Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 104498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
He waves politely to the adoring fans now swarming him on the dance floor.
“This one’s for you, boy,” the lead singer says and starts belting out Jet’s words.
“Hey, it’s our song.” Ollie wraps his arm around Lennon.
Sure. His and Lennon’s song.
It’s the logical connection. Jet wrote a song about Matt and Noah. Ollie plays hockey. “Hat Trick Heartbreak.” It makes sense. I’m not supposed to know Jet the way I do.
I watch Jet dancing to our song with that other guy.
I want to close the distance between us. I want that Aussie guy to stop trying to find every excuse to touch him. But most of all, I want to take back the night that made this song.
I can’t help wondering where we’d be tonight had I not gone to his show two years ago. This would be my first time seeing him since we slept together.
We could’ve started fresh.
The end of the verse catches my attention, highlighting why that might be impossible now:
You fit perfection
The ultimate hat trick
But you slipped and then you flaked
Now you’re nothing but my hat trick heartbreak.
“Yeah, there might not be any coming back from that,” I mumble.
“What?” Matt says beside me.
“Uh, nothing. Isn’t it weird hearing your brother’s songs?”
“It’s fucking awesome.” He leans in closer to me. “Jet deserves the world.”
Is that a lump the size of a puck in my throat? He can’t mean anything by that other than what he said. He thinks Jet deserves everything. That doesn’t mean he suspects …
I side-eye him, too scared to make proper eye contact, but he’s not looking at me. He’s focused on the band.
The song ends, and Jet tries to pry himself away to come back to us, but the lead singer and the ever-growing group of fans encourage him onto the stage instead.
He does the coy thing where he tries to refuse, but this is him in his element. There’s no way he’ll be able to resist, and I’m dying to hear him live again. Twice isn’t enough. I’d listen to him sing the alphabet on repeat.
After speaking with the band for a minute, as predicted, he takes the mic.
“Hey, Fiji!”
Everyone in the bar goes crazy but no one more than the group of guys I’m with.
Jet eyes us from the stage and lifts his chin with a giant smile. “I, uh, feel weird singing one of my songs without the rest of my band here, but I don’t mind hanging out for a bit.”
The guy he was dancing with sticks his fingers in his mouth and lets out a loud whistle.
Jet opens with Queen’s “I Want to Break Free” and like every gay bar that breaks into an LGBT anthem, everyone joins in. But Jet is louder.
Turns out, he doesn’t even have to be singing his own songs for me to get lost in his voice.
The rasp. The need in his tone. The soulful way in which he makes me experience every single word.
I feel it in my chest. In my heart.
When the song comes to a close, Jet thanks the crowd and hedges to get off the stage, but everyone loves him. Of course, they do. They scream for more, chanting his name … well, Jay anyway.
His eyes lock on mine, and his lips form into a thin line. I’m frozen in his gaze until he spins on his heel and says something to the band.
They look at him with arched brows and weird expressions, but Jet says something that looks like “Trust me” though I can’t tell for sure from back here.
Jet’s handed an acoustic guitar, and after he strums it a couple of times, he approaches the mic again. “This is one y’all should recognize.”
The opening riffs make me question that statement because I can’t place the song.
Jet stares down at his hands as he plays the guitar effortlessly. When he starts singing, it’s soft and he still doesn’t raise his head.
It takes a couple of lines to realize it’s a slower version of that pop song “Someone Else’s Perfect” by Eleven.
The song completely transforms coming out of Jet’s mouth. It’s no longer a teenybopper love song, but one of heartbreak and angst. I guess I’ve never listened to the lyrics before.
Under your spell,
Living in hell,
You say I’m perfect,
Too good to be someone’s reject,
But that’s what you did when you walked away,
You left me to find myself
Something niggles at me. Whether it’s the way he’s singing it or that we both relate to it, I don’t know. It’s like he’s singing it to me. About me.
Then he finally raises his head and holds my gaze just as he sings a telling line.
You said I was perfect …
Perfect for someone else.
Holy. Shit.
That phrase is in the song repeatedly, and every time he sings it, more pain comes through in his voice. It gets to the point where I’m sure this isn’t an Eleven song. It can’t be. While Jet has the ability to turn any song into his own, just like he did with Queen, this is different. It not only comes across as genuine, but the heartache and rejection make me feel guilty—as if I did something wrong.