THE DUET
1339 Words
CHAPTER 02
The auditorium at Crestmont Academy was nothing short of majestic. Velvet curtains cascaded from the ceiling, polished mahogany floors gleamed under soft lighting, and the air carried a faint mix of old wood and youthful nerves. The ceiling was painted like the night sky—stars glimmering above rows of perfectly aligned seats. It wasn’t just a school auditorium. It was a stage where dreams took flight or crashed in spectacular fashion.
And tonight, Ava Sinclair was set to step into that spotlight.
She clutched her sheet music tightly as she stood just outside the main doors. Her palms were sweaty. Her heart beat like a drum solo. But it wasn’t the song she was nervous about—it was the boy she’d be singing with.
Logan Reid.
Of all people.
She remembered when Mr. Hastings had made the announcement in music class.
“You’ll be singing a duet for the Winter Showcase,” he’d said with a grin. “Ava Sinclair, you’ll be paired with Logan Reid.”
Ava’s jaw had dropped. She had blinked twice, thinking she’d misheard.
“Logan Reid?” she repeated, voice rising an octave.
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
Problem? Only the fact that Logan Reid was the kind of boy who walked into a room like he owned it, played instruments like the world was ending and flirted like his heart had never been broken. Also, the fact that Ava had spent the last two months trying not to stare at him in the music room.
“No problem,” she’d lied, smiling tightly.
So now here she was, heart hammering, throat dry, trying to convince herself that it was just a song. A school event. Nothing more.
She stepped inside.
The auditorium was dim, but one spotlight lit the stage. Logan was already there, sitting at the grand piano like he belonged in a magazine spread. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing lean forearms and a few faint scars. He wore that usual air of arrogance like a designer jacket, but his fingers danced across the keys with the kind of vulnerability that made her chest ache.
He looked up the moment she entered, his eyes catching hers like they always did—sharp, playful, and a little too observant.
“You’re early,” he said, his voice echoing through the quiet space.
“You’re surprised?”
“I’m flattered,” he replied, standing slowly. “Means you couldn’t wait to see me.”
“I couldn’t wait to get this over with,” she shot back, hugging her lyrics tighter.
He walked toward her, each step unhurried. “Still pretending you don’t like me. That’s cute.”
“I’m not pretending anything.”
Logan smiled lazily, taking the lyrics from her hands and scanning the page. “‘Something Real,’ huh? Good choice.”
“You picked it?” she asked, raising a brow.
“I suggested it to Hastings. Thought it might suit your voice.”
Ava blinked. “Why?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he moved back to the piano and nodded for her to join him. “Let’s find out if I was right.”
She hesitated before walking up the few steps to the stage. Her footsteps echoed, each one heavier than the last. She sat beside him on the bench, careful to leave just enough space between them.
“Ready?” he asked, fingers poised over the keys.
“As I’ll ever be.”
The first few notes filled the auditorium, slow and smooth, like honey dripping off a spoon. Ava took a deep breath and began to sing. Her voice started soft—uncertain but pure. When Logan joined in, his voice cut through the air like velvet and smoke. Deep. Raw. It startled her.
They stumbled a little at first—out of sync, unsure, guarded. But as the verses flowed, something shifted. Their voices began to blend. It wasn’t just harmony. It was chemistry. A strange, electric rhythm neither could deny.
Logan’s eyes met hers during the chorus. He smirked, and she felt a jolt run down her spine.
“Not bad,” he murmured between lyrics.
“You’re not half terrible yourself,” she whispered back.
As they reached the bridge, they hit a crescendo that made the ceiling lights flicker. Ava’s voice soared, Logan’s voice grounded hers, and the room seemed to breathe with them.
When they hit the final note, the silence that followed was deafening.
They sat there, still catching their breath. The moment stretched. Ava could feel the heat radiating from his body and could hear his heartbeat in the stillness.
Then Logan chuckled softly. “We’re gonna blow the roof off this place.”
Ava turned to him, her heart still thumping wildly. “I didn’t know you could sing like that.”
“I don’t sing for just anyone.”
She frowned. “So why me?”
His smile faded slightly. “You sing like you’ve been through things. I guess I liked the idea of not being the only one.”
That caught her off guard.
“You think I’ve been through things?” she asked.
He gave a soft laugh. “Come on, Sinclair. I’ve seen you around. Always alone. Always reading. You sing like you’re trying to say things you’re too scared to tell anyone.”
Her breath caught. Because he wasn’t wrong.
She turned away, focusing on the keys instead. “You think too much.”
“You pretend not to.”
They practiced again. And again. For hours. Between verses, they teased each other. He called her “church girl.” She called him “player boy.” But every time their voices came together, the tension shifted from annoyance to something far more dangerous.
Something almost like intimacy.
At one point, Logan reached over to adjust her pitch, his fingers grazing hers. Her breath hitched, and he noticed.
“Relax,” he said, but his voice was a little husky now. “You’re doing great.”
By the end of rehearsal, they were laughing like old friends. Ava hadn’t laughed like that in a long time.
Logan walked her to the auditorium doors as the night air rolled in through the open windows. Outside, the campus was quiet. Moonlight-painted silver streaks across the hallway tiles.
“You ever think about what comes after all this?” he asked.
“After Crestmont?”
“After everything. Music. Singing. Life.”
She nodded slowly. “Sometimes. I want to sing professionally, maybe even write songs one day. Music’s… all I have, really.”
He looked at her thoughtfully. “You’re good. Like, really good.”
“Thanks.”
“What about you?” she asked, tilting her head.
He hesitated, then shrugged. “I just want to find something that feels like home.”
Ava’s heart ached a little at that.
They stood in silence for a moment.
Then Logan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small guitar pick. It was blue, worn at the edges, with a star etched into the center.
“Here,” he said, holding it out to her.
“What is this?”
“My lucky pick. I used it for my first real performance.”
She blinked. “Why are you giving it to me?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe I just want you to remember me when we kill it at the showcase.”
She hesitated, then took it. Their fingers brushed. A spark.
“See you tomorrow, Ava Sinclair,” he said with a wink, turning on his heel.
She watched him disappear down the corridor, the pick clutched tightly in her hand.
She’d come to Crestmont for the scholarship, for the chance to sing.
She hadn’t planned on falling into harmony with the most unpredictable boy in school.
But the music didn’t lie.
And neither did the way her heart skipped a beat when he smiled.
- Writer
