*Updates most Mondays*
Book Two in the Darien Grace Chronicles
"I couldn't hear the music. I knew that it was pulsing all around me, I could feel it vibrate through the air, but I couldn't hear it. I hadn't been able to hear it for a while now. I ju...
A/N: Another MASSIVE thank you to MilieBoo for the French translations. I couldn't be doing this without you--well, I could try Google Translate, but we both know that would be garbage. So thank you, thank you, THANK YOU.
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Darien Grace
"Alright, break's over. We need to run through the set and practice the transitions," Danielle announced. She was already back on the stage. I snorted in response, sidling up next to the closest heater, cradling the cup of liquid salvation between both hands. There was no way in hell I was going back on that stage before the caffeine had time to work its magic. Danielle watched me impatiently, tapping the toe of her boot on the stage. "Darien, come on. You need to learn the steps."
Pumpkin spice almost came out of my nose. "The steps? No, I don't dance. That's all you, Princess."
"We are a full service act. You have to perform," Bianca, her sister, insisted. I was told that together she and Danielle handled the band's vocals while the rest of us were supposed to back them up. Danielle had a banjo—an actual fucking banjo— strung over her shoulder. She strummed a few impatient chords.
"No. See, that wasn't part of the deal. I was told that if I did a little community service I could graduate on time. So here I am, charitably playing the violin. Dancing was never part of the bargain." I took another prolonged drag from my latte, refusing to move from where I leaned against the heater.
"You have to dance. It's in our contract." Bianca's face was steadily darkening. She flicked her long, light brown braid over her shoulder. She'd tucked her floral blouse into a brick red maxi skirt that was cinched at the waist with an over-large western belt-buckle. She bent down to retrieve her own banjo, hitching the strap high up on her shoulder. She strummed a few sharp chords.
"I didn't sign a contract."
"This is a joke to her. She doesn't even want to be here!" Bianca swore under her breath, looking to Danielle and the other band members for back up. Danielle sighed and the three other members were looking in any direction except ours.
"You're right. I don't want to be here, but I am." I got to my feet. The second I locked eyes with Bianca again a pang of guilt racked my stomach. I knew I was being bitchy, but I wasn't quite sure how to stop. I hadn't slept much in over a week, I was hung-over as hell, and I could feel Harry's eyes on me from across the tent. All of my pent up aggression and stress had happened to choose now to come out. Those traitorous damn butterflies had come out of hibernation once again and were flitting ridiculously around my stomach.
I felt like I was going to be sick.
Danielle, Bianca, and the rest of the band hadn't actually done anything to deserve the brunt of my bottled up emotions. Still, I wasn't entirely sure how to stop my tirade.
