(A/N) Hey, y'all! How's it going? Meghan here, just wanted to thank you for the reads! It means a lot that you guys take the time to read my cheesy story. Sorry that there was a big time gap in between Internal Explosions and Blushing at a Bar, and also sorry that Blushing at a Bar was so bad. In case you guys haven't noticed, I'm not the most socially inclined person ever, and I kinda painted myself into a corner, because Lin and everybody are so hilarious and me trying to mimick their behavior is an embarrassment waiting to happen! Also, I got a little personal in this chapter, but I promise the next one will be better! Thanks again! -Your Friend The Blushing
The heated seats in Laurens's car were a blessing in the chilly fall air. You began to fall asleep, honestly, despite the constant feeling of your stomach plunging off a cliff whenever he was around. That was, until his angelic voice cut through your sleepiness.
"Sorry about that," he mumbled. It may have been the light playing with your eyes, but it looked like he was still blushing a little. "The guys are really cool, but... they can be idiots sometimes. Especially with girls."
"Yeah, no," you said, stretching away your exhaustion. "They seem great. I totally get it. I used to do that with people, too. Which is actually probably why I never had many friends growing up."
This seemed to surprise him. "You didn't? You seem like you'd have a lot of friends."
You shook your head. "Nope. Not many friends at all. In fact, nobody even seemed to really notice me."
"Huh," he muttered. "I'm sorry. But... that means no boyfriends, either, I guess?"
Your heart fluttered. He cared. He might actually like you. Why did he care? Did he like you back? Then you remembered his dismissive tone in the bar when he was being teased. You played his words over again in your mind. His tone was casual enough. It was just a question in passing.
You forced another smile and shook your head. "No. It's okay, though. No one was really my type and... I'm nobody's type."
John scoffed. "Don't be so sure of yourself." Then his eyes went wide and his face turned red. "Um... I mean... just... y-you seem really cool, and... there's gotta be someone out there who likes you..."
You laughed. "Thanks, but I highly doubt that."
"So, how come you didn't want to tell me about Broadway?" he asked, trying to change the subject.
You buried your face in your hands. "So you wouldn't get any false assumptions at me being good at stuff.
"What do you mean?"
"I may love acting and singing, but I'm terrible at them."
"Oh, come on," he said, nudging you. "I'm sure you're fine!"
"No, I'm not," you argued.
"Sure. Okay."
You rode in silence for awhile, which, unfortunately, was just enough time to forget that he still assumed you were good at singing.
"Do you want to put on some music?"
You smiled, genuinely this time. "Sure."
He handed you his phone, which was hooked up to his sound system. You scrolled through Spotify until you found what you were looking for.
"Sigue andando el camino por toda su vida. Respira," the speakers sang.
"Breathe," you sang along with Nina, doing your best to keep you voice clear like you always did when singing the song. "This is my street. I smile at the faces I've known all my life. They regard me with pride, and everyone's sweet, they say, 'You're going places!' So how do I say that while I was away I had so much to hide? 'Hey, guys, it's me! The biggest disappointment you know!' The kid couldn't hack it, she's back and she's walking real slow. Welcome home! Just breathe. Just breath.
Your voice swooped at the high parts, as you laced sadness and disappointment at yourself into the melodies. It wasn't hard.
"I remember the praise,'Ay, te adoro, te quiero,' the neighborhood waved and said, 'Nina, be brave and you're gonna be fine!" And maybe it's me, but that all seems like lifetimes ago. So what do I say to these faces that I used to know? 'Hey, I'm home!'"
"Mira, Nina," the sound system seranaded.
"Hey," you sang in a melodic reply.
"No me preocupo por ella,"
"They're not worried about me."
"Mira, allí estra nuestra estrella!"
"They are all counting on me to succeed."
"Ella sí da la talla!"
"I am the one who made it out!" you sang with the full power of your voice, taking the strings of your life that related to Nina, the hopeful dreams turned sour at the hands of a ruthless society, and using the strings to pull the rest of her life into yours. You were no longer (Y/n) (L/n). You didn't even know who (Y/n) (L/n) was. No. You were Nina Rosario. Her problems were yours, and you forgot yourself completely for a moment, leaving everything but the music behind you. And this is why you came for Broadway.
"The one who always made the grade. But maybe I should have just stayed home." Now was the transition. You made your voice rise, going from the bottersweetness of remembering things that could have been to the panicky, desperate, nearly-screaming-in-sorrow emotion that used to smother you in your nights.
"When I was a child I stayed wide awake, climbed to the highest place on every fire escape. Restless to climb! I got every scholarship, saved every dollar, the first to go to college. How do I tell them why I'm coming back home with my eyes on the horizon?"
Now you hushed your voice, knowing the submissive emptiness all too well. "Just me and the GWB, asking, 'Gee, Nina, what'll you be?'"
You took a deep breath. "Straighten the spine. Smile for the neighbors. Everything's fine. Everything's cool. The standard reply, 'Lots of tests, lots of papers.'"
You found yourself shaking as you repeated the advice you'd been feeding yourself since you were twelve. "Smile wave goodbye and pray to the sky. Oh, God, what will my parents say? Can I go in there and say, 'I know that I'm letting you dooooooowwwn...?' Just... breathe."
You held the note even once Nina had stopped singing and the music stopped. You held and held and held it until you ran out of breath. Only then did Nina fade back into subconciousness, and only then, when you closed your eyes, did you see blackness instead of the street corner of Washington Heights. And only then did you remember that there was someone in the car with you.
"Fuck!" you realized, spinning around to look at John who sat silently next to you. "Sorry... I... kinda... forgot you were here... that's a really bad habit of mine when I'm singing... especially when it's from musicals..."
"(Y/n) (L/n)," Laurens said your name slowly. "You had better audition for Broadway, or so help me God I will never speak to you again."
You pressed your head against the headrest laughing. It was impossible to tell if he was patronizing you or not, but you figured it didn't matter right then.
A mixture of relief and remorse filled your senses when he finally pulled up at the dorm room and was nice enough to walk you to the door.
"See you tomorrow, John," you said, smiling.
"Yeah..." he said, hesitating, taking a step forward, then a step back before compromising and reaching out to touch your arm. "Sweet dreams," he smiled, before returning to his car.
And even as you took the stairs and put your key into the lock, you could still feel the sensation of his cool fingers stroking your arm.
