The Guide To Becoming Rock Stars In Twenty Eight Days.

Prologue

Hey everyone! This is my new story, If you haven't already, check out my book HIdden Seekers. Okay, so please vote, comment, and fan! I really hope you like this new story, I've been planning it for a while. If anyone wants to make me a cover or banner, I'd be so grateful!

Cover is made by SilverMoonShadow

 

 

     I squeezed Adam’s hand as Clark strode onto the imposing stage. His arrogant eyes caught the camera, his hand holding the slip of paper that decided our fates. A hand settled on my shoulder, trying to calm my nerves. It was Tanner, confident and composed like always. Everything we’ve done over the last few weeks – every triumph, every failure – had led to this moment.

     Quickly, I glanced over to the other side of the stage, where I could see him standing. There was a smirk on his plush pink lips and it was dazzling the crowd before us. My stomach twisted at the memory of what the two of us had done the other night. To rid myself of negative thoughts, I shook my head slightly and tried to focus on my band.

     I could hear Gabe muttering incoherent things behind me. I couldn’t make out the words, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if he was reciting the periodic table for luck. Riley was clenching the fret board of his guitar so tight, I could hear the wood splintering under the pressure.

     Clark licked his lips and ran his finger along the opening of the envelope, trying to prolong the anticipated reveal. I pressed my other hand to my chest, feeling the erratic beating of my heart. Just hurry up already!

     I could feel his eyes slip over to me; the walls behind his shining irises crumbling. I could see the guilt in his gaze; hear the apology on his tongue. Weakly he waved to me – a small gesture from which he probably hoped to regain my trust. But no, he didn’t deserve my forgiveness – he didn’t deserve me.

     Clark flipped open the envelope, and slowly pulled out the unassuming piece of parchment. I shut my eyes and silently prayed that it was our name written on it.

     Tanner leaned close to my ear and whispered softly, his voice sending a shiver down my spine, “Relax, Cat. We’ve still won, no matter what.” He pulled me to his side and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, shielding me from the violent clicks of countless cameras. I leaned into him and nodded, ready for whatever the results may be.

     Clark unfolded the paper and scanned over the printed words. With a small, knowing chuckle, he put the paper in his tux pocket and smiled widely at the crowd.

     “We all know the prizes the winner will receive: a record deal, $1,000,000 worth of prize money, and their very own cross-country tour.”

     Clark flashed the crowd another smile and held out his hand as Chelsea, one of the models, glided over holding the trophy. She flashed her signature smile and waved to the crowd.

     “Thank you, Chelsea. And now, the moment we have all been waiting for,” he pointed a finger at the anticipation riddled crowd, “You, America have voted and the winner of this year’s National Battle of The Bands is…..”