Chapter 37

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

GRACE'S POV 

As the waitress left, I leaned back slightly, taking in the environment. It wasn't too loud, but it was just enough to make you feel the vibe.

People were laughing with friends, some were dancing to no beat in particular. Others took turns going up the stage to sing as their friends and family clapped for them. They were completely unbothered by who was watching. I loved that for them. 

And for a moment, just a moment, I understood why Susan wanted to see this. It was thrilling and relaxing at the same time. A part of me needed the fresh, yet choking, air.

“You’re thinking too much,” she said, snapping me out of it.

“I’m observing.” I explained, glancing around the place. 

“You’re overthinking.” She pointed out, sounding sure of herself.

I shook my head and replied,“I’m analyzing.”

She rolled her eyes and said again,“You’re judging.” Her tone was one of finality. Like she was certain for sure.

I hesitated “…not really. I'm just watching, and observing.” 

She grinned. “Relax.” She rubbed my shoulders in an attempt to relax them.

“I am relaxed.” I let out a low chuckle.

“You’re sitting like you’re about to defend a thesis.”

I glanced down at myself and realised that she wasn’t entirely wrong. I was sitting so upright that I looked nothing but professional. Anyone who saw would probably think I was upright, even though I was clearly not.

With a sigh, I loosened my shoulders slightly, relaxing.

“Better?” she asked, wriggling her brows.

“Partially.”

“I’ll take it.”

Another singer got on stage, confidence oozing like body odor after a long day. This one was better. Not amazing, but better than the last. At least my ears weren’t suffering.

Susan swayed slightly to the music, clearly enjoying herself. This was her kind of world, I knew that. This was how we balanced each other out.

“You should go up there,” she said suddenly, head snapping towards me 

I choked on air. “Absolutely not. I'm not doing that.” There was no way I was going to go sing in front of a hundred and more people.

“Why not?” She whined.

“I value my dignity.” I pointed out.

“It’s karaoke. No one cares whether you suck or not.” 

“I care.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun, you know that?”

“I’m plenty of fun, thank you. I just have a more reserved way of having fun.” 

She stared at me, and then blinked once. “You sound like someone who's in her thirties.” 

I froze slightly. “Oh come on. You know I'm not that old.” I waved her off, even though it was glaringly clear to me now that my age had also reduced. I was younger, obviously.

“Or you're just scared of fellow humans.” She taunted.

I saw the bait, I couldn't avoid it, so I took it. “I'm not scared of mere humans.” 

“Prove it.” She gestured to the stage.

“I don’t need to prove anything.”

She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. “Sing.”

“No.”

“Sing.”

“No.”

“Grace.”

“Susan.”

We stared at each other. A silent battle raging through our eyes.

Then, she smirked. That was the moment I knew that it was over for me. I knew that look, and it was a dangerous one.

Before I could react, she stood up, and walked straight to the front.

My eyes widened in shock.

“Susan, don’t you dare do that.” I said to myself, knowing that she wouldn't listen.

It was too late. She grabbed the mic, just as the previous singer evacuated the stage.

“Hi!” she said brightly. The room quieted slightly at her cheery greeting.

“My friend here..” she pointed directly at me. “..is going to sing next!”

The room erupted in cheers, people turned to look at me. And some guy who sat beside us nudged me with a smile.

I froze in my seat.

“You’re lying!” I hissed under my breath.

She grinned. “Am I?”

“Yes!”

“Too late.” She smiled at the cheering crowd as evidence.

I stared at her in disbelief as she walked back toward me like she hadn’t just ruined my life.

“I hate you,” I said.

“No, you don’t.” She scoffed, pulling me up.

She pulled me all the way to the stage and made me climb. A man near the stage handed me the mic. I looked at it like it was a weapon. Which, honestly, in Susan’s hands, it was.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered to her.

“You can,” she said, pushing me gently forward.

“I don’t even know what to sing!”

“Pick anything!”

“I don’t have anything!”

She leaned in. “Then just survive.”

Wonderful advice.

As I looked at the crowd before me, regret filled my entire body. The lights felt too bright, the room felt too loud. And most glaringly, every single person was looking at me. What could be more unnerving than that?

“This is a mistake,” I muttered into the mic.

A few people laughed.

Great. Now I was unintentionally entertaining them. 

The screen in front of me lit up with song options. My mind went blank. Then, I picked one, a Taylor Swift song.

The music started, and for the first few seconds, I considered running. But then, I started singing, following the lyrics on the screen. I realised that it wasn’t terrible. I risked a glance at Susan.

She was smiling wide, encouragingly. I almost rolled my eyes. She may have been annoying, but she was supportive.

By the second verse, I relaxed a little, enough to breathe and stop overthinking every note that I attempted to belt.

By the end of the song, I had forgotten to be embarrassed and was just in a little bubble, singing and even swaying to the beat. 

When the music ended, loud applause spread through the air. I blinked, surprised. Then I quickly handed back the mic and rushed off the stage.

Susan grabbed my arm as soon as I got back to our seats.

“You did it!” she said excitedly.

“I survived,” I corrected, my heart still racing, my mouth dry.

“You were good!” She cheered, slapping my shoulder.

“I was okay.”

“You were good.”

“I was adequate.”

She laughed. “Fine. You were okay.”

“I’ll take that.”

I silently prayed that 26 years old Michael was somewhere lurking around and would show up. This had to be worth something.