Seventeen
“You want to play your song? Go for it.”
Clutching his guitar, Jase stared at Layla, his palms sweaty, heart tripping a mile a minute.
Out in the club, the patrons were stomping and clapping, demanding yet another encore.
“I wrote the lyrics in three hours,” he croaked. “What if it sucks?”
“Oh, pssh. I know you.” She patted his chest encouragingly. “It won’t suck.”
“Dude, if you’re not ready…” Quinn slung his arm around his shoulders, hugging him tight. “I know how hard it is to put yourself out there.”
Excitement mixed with fear popped and fizzed in Jase’s gut. Baring his soul to a room full of strangers had at first seemed like a good idea. If he could do that, it’d have to get easier with time, get easier to do it with Carey.
But now that the moment was here, he was te
