24. Twenty-Four

It opens.

We’re in.

The auditorium is pitch dark, with an ‘Overlook hotel’ feel to it; chairs placed neatly on top of tables, and the closed bar yawning spookily off to one side.

“We shouldn’t be in here,” I whisper to Alex, the silence of the empty space making me want to lower my voice. “We’re going to get in trouble if we’re caught.”

“What can they realistically do to us?” he replies, matter-of-factly. “We’ve paid a small fortune to be here. It’s not like they’re going to call the police on us, is it? And anyway, didn’t you say you want to take risks?”

“Well, yeah. I guess.”

I look around uncertainly. Now that my eyes have adjusted to the gloom, I can see the stage looming in front of me, a single mic stand right in the middle, almost as if it’s waiting for me. I watch as Alex goes over to inspect it, then moves off to the side of the stage, where the man in charge of the karaoke was standing the other night. Alex fiddles with some switches in a box there, and suddenly there’s a low hum of feedback as the mic bursts into life.

“Shhh!” I hiss, going over to join him. “Someone’ll hear us!”

“No, they won’t,” he says confidently. “There’s too much noise from the bar. And anyway, I’ve turned it down for you. So, what are you going to sing? Scarf song?”

My shoulders instantly shoot up towards my ears, my body suddenly rigid with tension.

“Um, no,” I mumble. “It’s ten minutes long. And I’m definitely not doing Cruel Summer either. That would just be too cruel.”

I think for a moment.

“What’s your favorite song?” I ask, hoping it’s not going to be Mariah Carey, or something else with notes I’ll never be able to hit. “I’m taking requests.”

“Really?” His teeth flash white in the darkness as he smiles. “Okay, how about Shallow?”

“Shallow? You’re a Lady Gaga fan?”

“Not particularly,” he says easily. “I just like that song. The lyrics especially.”

I close my eyes and quickly run through the first few bars in my head, trying to remember the words.

“Oh.”

My eyes fly open again. “That’s… that’s…”

That’s a song about my life.

Or … maybehis life?

Who would’ve thought I’d end up bonding over song lyrics with Alex Fox, rather than Jamie Reynolds?

“That’s a good choice,” I finish lamely. Alex just nods, which makes me wonder if he really did pick this song because the lyrics seem almost to be describing both of our lives right now, or if he’s just heard it on the radio a few times, and thought it had a nice tune.

He’s giving me no clues, though, as he goes back to fiddling with the switches in front of him.

“I’ve switched on the mic,” he says, after a few seconds. “But I can’t figure out how to work the karaoke machine, so you’re going to have to do it acapella. That okay?”

“Sure.”

My voice comes out sounding much more confident than the person attached to it. I take it as my cue to climb up onto the stage, where I stand in front of the microphone, my mind flooded with memories of the last time I did this.

“Just remember what I said at the airport,” comes Alex’s voice from the shadows. “One step at a time. Just sing the first line. Then the next one. You can stop whenever you like.”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

One line at a time.

That doesn’t sound too hard, really.

Just to minimize the amount of time I have to spend up here, though, I decide to skip straight to the chorus — and to do it immediately, before I can think too much about it, or change my mind.

So, like Lady Gaga herself, I dive in. From the deep end. Or that’s what it feels like, anyway, as the first words of the chorus come out of my mouth. But once I’ve done it — once I’ve jumped — it feels easier. The world doesn’t end. Alex doesn’t fall about laughing. I can’t even see him, actually, although that’s purely because I’ve got my eyes closed.

Well, he asked me to sing; he didn’t specify what else I should be doing at the time.

By the time I reach the end of the chorus, I’ve found my stride. The notes are coming out strong and easy; I’m even remembering all the words.

And I’m loving it.

Up here on the stage, I can be anyone I want to be. I feel strong and powerful, and whole. I feel like me. I even feel like there’s a spotlight shining down on me; in fact, as I end the chorus and prepare to start it again, like Gaga does at the end of the song, I could swear I can see light through my closed eyelids.

“Oh, shit,” Alex says from the darkness.

I snap open my eyes to find myself bathed in golden light … which is, indeed, coming from the spotlight directly above me.

“Did you do that?” I ask, blinking as I try to find him. “Did you switch on the lights?”

But then there’s a sound from the front of the room, and I look up to see someone from the hotel standing in the open doorway, glaring at me. A torrent of Spanish comes pouring from his lips, and, even though I have no idea what he’s saying, it’s amazing how well tone translates across languages, because there’s absolutely no mistaking the fact that this guy is pissed.

“Come on,” says Alex, appearing in front of me. “Run.”

He holds out his arms, and, without thinking about it, I leap into them from the stage. At some point in the future — probably when I’m replaying this moment over and over in my head — I’m going to think about how I feel a bit like Baby at the end of Dirty Dancing, and how this might just be the coolest I’ve ever been: or ever will be again.

There’s no time for that right now, though. Because Alex is lowering me unceremoniously to the floor, then reaching for my hand and pulling me along with him as he charges at the man at the door, who steps aside at the last second, leaving the doorway clear for us to race through it.

Once we’re through, we carry on running; past the bar, and the little gift shop selling inflatable unicorns and postcards from Tenerife; through the courtyard that leads to the hairdresser and spa; through the terrace we eat all our meals at, and, finally, past the infinity pool, and all the way to the little clutch of palm trees that mark the entrance to the stairs, where we collapse in a heap, out of breath and almost hysterical with laughter.

“Wow,” I say, catching my breath at last. “You really don’t do things by halves, do you? When you said ‘take a risk’, I didn’t think it was going to involve running from the law…”

“That wasn’t the law,” Alex says, chuckling. “That was just the hotel caretaker. And I don’t think he bothered trying to chase us, so I guess we’re safe.”

I nod breathlessly, suddenly aware of how close he is, and the way my hand is still tucked into his.

This doesn’t feel safe at all, actually.

Not even remotely.

“So. I. Um…”

“That was amazing, by the way,” says Alex, interrupting what I’m sure was going to turn out to be another eloquent and insightful statement from me. “You were amazing, Summer. Seriously. You absolutely killed it back there. And I’m not a man who gives compliments easily, so you can trust me when I say that.”

“Thanks,” I mumble self-consciously. “I’m glad you liked it. I did too. I liked doing it. It felt… well, it felt really good.”

“Good enough to do it again at the karaoke night?” he asks teasingly.

I hesitate, then nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I could maybe do it this time. And I think I probably should do it; if only to overwrite the memory of the last time.”

“I think you’ve already done that,” he says. “But you’re right; you should probably make it so your best memory of singing on stage isn’t the one where a Spanish caretaker comes crashing in to chase you off the thing.”

I bite my lip, thinking about how, no matter what happens at the hotel’s karaoke night, my best memory is probably going to be jumping into Alex’s arms, like we were in the closing minutes of a romantic movie.

But we’re not.

The thought comes crashing in like the waves on the beach earlier.

There’s absolutely no point thinking about Alex as the co-star in the rom-com of my life, because it isn’t going to happen. I know he says he never loved Rebecca, and that he shouldn’t have stayed with her for so long, but the fact is, he did. They almost got married, just a few short days ago.And that makes the idea of me and him way too complicated.

I wasn’t meant to be with Jamie Reynolds, but it doesn’t look like I’m meant to be with Alex Fox, either.

The thought of Jamie, and my insane plan to come out here and find him makes all the adrenaline that’s currently coursing through my veins abruptly stop circulating, leaving me feeling cold and deflated, like a balloon that’s been left floating around long after the party ended.

“Earth to Summer?”

Alex grins as I re-focus on him.

“You were miles away there,” he says teasingly. “What were you thinking about? It’s not Whatshisface again, is it?”

I hesitate before answering.

“Er, yeah,” I say quietly. “Sort of.”

“Oh. Right.” Alex drops my hand abruptly.

“Well,” he says, yawning extravagantly as he gets to his feet. “It’s been quite a night, but I think it’s time for me to turn in now.”

“Alex,” I say softly. “Alex, wait.”

I think about telling him that I wasn’t thinking about Jamie in the way he thinks I was. But when he looks down at me questioningly, I realize there’s no point. I can’t allow myself to think about him as anything other than a friend — if I can even call him that. So, instead, I just hold out my hand and smile.

“Help a girl up, would you?”

He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet until we’re standing face to face.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “After… well, everything?”

“I’m fine,” he says, not quite meeting me in the eye. “Shall we?”

He offers me his arm, like we’re in an old-fashioned movie, and I tuck my hand into it,

“So,” I say, as we turn toward the stairs. “About that scarf…”