Chapter 80

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Kyler's POV.

April 20, 2021 - 6pm

The beat of Grace Abrams' voice faintly pulses through the concrete walls backstage

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The beat of Grace Abrams' voice faintly pulses through the concrete walls backstage. Her new stuff is raw—delicate and devastating in the best way—and I can feel the bass vibrating through the soles of my boots as I pace in the dressing room.

My heart is a war drum in my chest. I keep rolling my shoulders, trying to shake off the weight of this moment. Last show. L.A. My city. My people. The place where I wrote basically all of my songs in my dim studio at 2 a.m., with nothing but me, myself, and I.

I glance in the mirror. My reflection stares back—black sleeveless vest, my guitar pick necklace, some loose slacks, fingers adorned with rings, twitching with adrenaline. I look like I've done this a thousand times, but inside, I'm just a guy who still can't believe he's made it this far.

 I look like I've done this a thousand times, but inside, I'm just a guy who still can't believe he's made it this far

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The door swings open and Kylie bursts in first, her energy like confetti.

The door swings open and Kylie bursts in first, her energy like confetti

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KYLIE: "Kyler!" She grins, arms open. "Final night! You better not cry on stage."

KYLER: I chuckle, pulling her into a hug. "You know I cry prettier than you. Like a single sexy tear and all."

KENDALL: Kenny follows, more mellow, holding a green juice like it's holy. "Seriously though, proud of you." She says, kissing my cheek. "You killed this tour."

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