2016 WATTY AWARD WINNING CHEATER, FAKER, TROUBLEMAKER SEQUEL
Written by Jenny Rosen & Kristen Maglonzo
For rehabilitated bad boy, Elias King, falling in love again means losing everything--including his life.
When a ghost from his past tears him aw...
NOTE: BIG THANK YOU to all audiobook listeners new and old! Kristen wrote and recorded an original song + lyrics for Ryker and Elias's performance on this recording! Enjoy the listen and thank you again for tuning in if you do! Special shout out to Got2BeReal who always leaves us such encouraging comments and feedback on the audiobooks!
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Elias
I shouldn't have gotten myself into this--the lights, the stage, the people. The million and one reminders of why showing my face in public always ends up being a mistake. But it's too late to back out now.
Thirty seconds ago, my body decided to do its own thing, ignore my nerves, and walk me out into the middle of the spotlight next to Ryker. And here I am, perched up on a metal stool across from him, choking the life out of my new guitar, struggling to maintain this melody, and trying not to choke in front of what has to be a good couple hundred people.
When Ry said there'd be a decent turn out at his gig, I expected maybe fifteen people or so. But the dude's got fans. Lots of them.
And it makes sense. The guy's cool as balls, a solid musician in his own right, and writing the kind of music that'll probably land him some kind of record deal if he keeps this going.
This is his world. His thing. His element.
Meanwhile, I'm totally outta of mine.
But then again, I don't know where I belong anymore.
I'm not anything like Ryker. I'm not all easy-going backstage, and cool calm and collected in the spotlight like he is. I can't vibe with total strangers on the laid back level like he does. Instead, I've started to spend most of my time trying to avoid talking to anyone.
Some days, especially in the past week, I wish I could go back in time and tape my mouth shut. Maybe then I wouldn't be where I am right now and Jersey wouldn't be--wherever she is.
I haven't seen or talked to her in a week.
I haven't lived in my dorm in a week.
I haven't been myself in a week.
I've been a TMZ article, a trending topic, and a circus animal that everybody wants to watch.
Just like they're watching me now.
I stare out at the crowd and wait to see camera flashes, or hear somebody scream out my name the way people do back in LA, but nobody makes a sound. Instead, silence falls down on top of the blur of faces stretching out toward the coastline. And then it falls down on top of me as I play.
