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into park, and shame rushes up to heat my ears.
    Ginny’s door groans open, and I say, “Wait. That’s not really what I meant.”
    “Of course it is. Tori was right; you are like Mom.”
    Her door slams hard, and I sigh as I get out. “Ginny, wait.” She stops, and I say, “I just can’t deal with... you know. Okay?”
    She rolls her eyes and turns away from me without a word. I hurry to catch up, and we walk toward the back together. When we enter our space, Andre is already there. He avoids my gaze.
    Jake hands me music, and the pages are slick in my hand as he says, “Nice choices on the songs. I added one or two that you didn’t pick, and we’ll run through them all tonight to make a final decision.”
    I glance down and notice the last song Andre and I sang is on the top. My stomach knots up, and I say, “I don’t know about this one. It’s kind of a downer, you know?”
    Jake frowns for a second. “Are you kidding? That’s the get-laid song we play at the end of the night.” He shakes his head as he mumbles, “Girls.”
    Damn it. I have no idea how I’m going to sing that after what happened yesterday. I close my eyes for a second to focus before I begin my warm-up exercises. When Brita arrives, we get down to business. Usually I stand up front while Andre is in the back. But Jake asks him to step forward so he can watch us interact.
    Andre and I go through the motions, but both of us lack feeling in the words. It doesn’t help that every time I gaze at Andre, his face is as hard as chiseled marble. Partway through the second song, Jake yells for us to stop. He asks, “What’s going on with you two? We need emotion, passion.”
    I say, “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.” I glance at Andre as he practically glowers at me. He nods at Jake, and Brita’s sticks set the tempo as we try again.
    This time I pour on the act. The bass of Andre’s guitar reverberates through me even though he still gives me his best stoic face. His scent fills my nose when I shimmy around him, and the edge of his guitar is smooth under my fingers when I drag them along the edge to emphasize a sexy line I sing. Jake eats it up, and when we finish, he says, “Yes. I love the teasing girl and untouchable guy thing. Nice.”
    I catch Ginny’s eye, and she scowls. Clearly she’s not so impressed. Whatever. I’m doing the best I can, given the situation.
    By the time we get to the last song, I’m mentally exhausted, and I have to force myself to keep from crying when Jake says it’s time for the ballad. My vocals begin the song, and I close my eyes and try to put myself in the body of a character. I imagine her begging the guy to tell her she’s wrong about their relationship being over even when she knows she’s not.
    When it’s Andre’s turn to sing, he seems to have done the same, because emotion shows on his face as he takes on the role of the male telling her it’s too late. The pain of his words lodges in my heart. I get a little too wrapped up in my character, because near the end of the song, a lump forms in my throat, and when we sing the last line together, my voice cracks. Silence hits, and I blow out a shaky breath as I blink back the tears that fill my eyes.
    Jake drops to his knees in front of me and lowers his head and arms as if he’s worshiping me as he says, “I am not worthy of your greatness.” I chuckle as he stands up. “You do that at our next gig, and I swear to god, men will be groveling at your feet.”
    Brita says, “And the women will be throwing their underwear at Andre. Damn, you do cold well.”
    Don’t I know it. I glance over at him. He stares at me, and his eyebrows lift just the slightest, as if he’s asking me a question. But hell if I know what it is. I walk over to him and say, “I need to talk to you.”
    He nods.
    I huff. “Words would be good here. I can’t read your mind. You could say, ‘Sure, we can talk in my car.’ Or maybe ‘Yeah, let’s hang out until