Page 3 of The Christmas Dash

“So,” I begin, shifting my weight. “That was wild, huh?”

Beth nods. “Pretty sure you had all of campus out on the quad. It was electric.”

My chest puffs up at her praise.

“I felt it. All of that energy.” I tap my fist against my breastbone. “It’s like it vibrates right through me and settles in my lungs. I can feed off of it when I’m up there. It’s pretty awesome.”

I close my eyes, reliving the sensation of performing—of doing something I love and having people respond so favorably. When I blink my eyes open to look at Beth, she’s worrying her bottom lip and her eyes are clouded over.

I sit up straighter. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head and glances away from me.

“Hey.” I reach for her hand and squeeze. “Talk to me. Come on. What’s going on?”

Beth swallows and meets my gaze. “You’re really going to do it? Go forward with Hidden Gems, I mean?”

“Well . . . yeah.” I pause. “It’s kind of a no-brainer.”

“I didn’t think you wanted to be famous.”

I frown, choosing my words carefully. “I didn’t really think it was an option before. But I love playing music. You know that.”

“I do.” She tips her head to the side. “But I thought you wanted to be an accountant.”

Fair. I’m in school for that. But when given the choice between being an accountant or a rock star, I mean . . .

“I thought you were excited about this for me, Bethy,” I say. “What’s going on?”

Beth heaves a deep breath and untwines our fingers so she can press the heels of her hands into her eye sockets.

“I don’t know. I’m being ridiculous. I am excited for you. It’s just . . . I thought maybe we were going to be . . . something.” She drops her hands, and the expression in her eyes is the definition of sadness. “Something more than friends.”

My pulse spikes, and I feel the same amount of adrenaline coursing through me as I did when I was onstage.

“I want that,” I say slowly. “I was hoping you did, too.”

Beth searches my gaze. “You know how I feel about musicians. About fame.” Her voice comes out in a whisper. She presses her lips together and drops her chin, talking to the table. “You know what happened to my parents. What my dad got swept up in. It was awful for Jack and me. I-I can’t be with anyone who chooses that type of lifestyle.” She lifts her chin, eyes flashing with a mixture of hurt and defiance. “I won’t.”

My heart hammers. Of course I’ve thought about her dad and the choices he made. He was a rock star, Will Collins. A rock star who used pills to prolong his high and then chose to get behind the wheel of his car with his wife in the passenger seat. Thank God Beth and Jack weren’t with them. I can’t begin to understand how she felt, losing both her parents at age ten, being shipped across the country to live with her grandparents, and my heart breaks for her. But I’m not her dad.

I reach out and grab her hand again. “Beth, I would never do drugs or drive under the influence—”

“I know,” she says. “I know you would never try to hurt me or leave me or whatever. You’re too good of a man for that, Gabe. I know you’d try to be safe. But there are things out of your control, and fame is like a drug—” She breaks off.

There’s a buzzing in my head . . . a frantic pounding. I feel like I’m losing her, and she’s not even mine to lose . . . yet.

She blows out a breath. “You’ve got this whole big shiny opportunity in front of you, and I’m not going to stand in your way. I would never do that. But I also can’t be with you like . . . that. As more than a friend.”

“Right now?” I ask, the next words burning my throat like acid. “Or ever?”

Beth gives me a weak shrug. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll give up the spot on the show,” I blurt.

Is that reckless and stupid, considering they’ve started referring to me as a young Chris Stapleton? Maybe. Is the chance of a relationship with Beth worth more to me than a potential future in music? Absolutely.

“No. No way.” She tries to pull her hand out of my grasp, but I cling to her tighter. She sighs. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”