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three guys in a rock band, going to audition for a TV show I’d watched for years. It was hard to believe this wasn’t all a dream.
    The guys didn’t talk much, and the closer we got, the more nervous I felt. This was really happening now. I couldn’t back out. Well, I could, but I’d completely screw the guys over and I would never do that. Kyle was my friend, and Jared had taken a chance on me. Yes, it was only because he needed me for the audition, but I still appreciated his faith in my skills.
    We soon reached LA Live, a giant plaza with restaurants, movie theaters, and clubs, plus the Staples Center, where basketball games were held, and the Nokia Theatre, where The Sound was filmed. The auditions were taking place across the street, at the LA Convention Center, and a huge crowd was already lined up along the sidewalk to be in the audience. We parked the van, and some guy with a headset and a clipboard checked us off and had us unload and tag our gear. He gave us a card with a 93 on it and said they’d call our number when they were ready for us.
    “Are there really ninety-two bands before us?” Jared asked him.
    “Nah, we hand the numbers out randomly,” the guy said, before waving us into a huge room with a bunch of other people.
    Judging from the wild assortment of clothes and hairstyles and the way everyone stood in groups and eyed each other with a mix of thinly veiled curiosity and contempt, these must be the other bands waiting to audition. I took in the vast crowd, and my stomach did summersaults. From the guys with long hair and motorcycle jackets, to the punk rockers with mohawks, to the country princesses who looked like Taylor Swift clones, all of them belonged here much more than I did.
    “I need coffee,” Kyle said. He took our orders—coffee for me and Hector, tea with honey for Jared (for his voice, he said)—and then joined the very long line at the coffee stand. All the tables and chairs were already taken, so we found a spot by the wall and leaned against it. There was nothing to do now but wait.
    While Hector sat on the floor and drew in a sketchbook, Jared surveyed the room with a line of worry across his forehead. He wore a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his inked arms. His face had the perfect amount of stubble brushing his chin and framing his mouth, and even in this crowd, I couldn’t help but be drawn to him.
    “You okay?” I asked, after he sighed for the fifth time.
    Jared ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up more. It made him look even better somehow. “I didn’t think there would be so many people here, you know?”
    “Yeah.” I didn’t mention that there were probably dozens more on their way or auditioning on other days because I understood how he felt. This was his chance to follow his dream, to make it big with his band, and now it seemed impossible in the face of all this competition. Villain Complex was good, but we’d only spent one night practicing together, and there were so many bands here, and oh god, the more I thought about it the more I might throw up.
    “How about you?” he asked.
    I pressed my hands to my stomach, willing it to be calm. “Honestly? No, I’m not okay.”
    He laughed and sang my words to the tune of “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” by My Chemical Romance. He continued with the next lines in the song for a minute, and some of the other people around us turned to watch him serenading me. It should have been embarrassing, but instead it made me smile and some of the tension in my shoulders relaxed. It wasn’t every day a hot guy sang to me, after all.
    He finished with an exaggerated bow, and I laughed. “Yes, that song popped into my head, too,” I said. “Unintentional song reference, I promise.”
    “It got you to laugh, so my work here is done,” he said, and I melted even more.
    Kyle returned and shoved coffee cups at us. “Rumor is, none of the mentors have filled up