“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to spend tonight with you at the apartment.”
I smile. “Of course, Conner.”
He heaves a sigh, and his shoulders relax slightly. “That’s one thing down,” he whispers.
“Pardon?”
Conner shakes his head, leans in, and kisses me briefly. “Nothing. Let’s get to the talent show.”
I purse my lips but don’t persist.
Cars fill the parking lot. Conner mutters to himself when the parking spot he usually claims has already been taken. We drive around briefly when we notice Aaron and Finch getting out of Troy’s car. There’s a car spot two spaces down from them. Conner swerves into it before anyone else can claim it. I grip Conner’s leg as I lean into him from the motion.
“Sorry,” Conner murmurs.
He is a little on edge. I can see the sweat on his forehead.
“Hey, mate! Are you excited?” Aaron calls as we get out of the car.
Conner shoots Aaron a look, and he flinches.
“Uh, we will see you in there.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask again while we walk towards the entrance to the hall.
Conner moves his arm around my waist and kisses my temple.
“Yeah, baby. Let’s find our seats.”
Conner shows Mr Rogers—the doorman—our tickets. He rips half of them, reminding me of the movies, and says, “Have a peachy fucking time, kids.”
We snigger at his foul language and enter the darkness. Lights flash around the hall, illuminating it in blue, red, white, yellow, and green. I forgot it was nearing Christmas, so the Talent Show theme leaned towards a Christmas vibe.
There are numbers on the seats, as well as a row number. Conner murmurs to himself until we find our row. Our seats are convenient.
I step in first, and Conner sits directly beside the lane. Conner points to Sammy and Renee on the stand, readying the microphones. At the front, I see Dylan’s figure through the dim lights. His phone is in his hands, and I know he’s recording Sammy.
Aaron, Finch, and Troy wave at us a few rows ahead on the other side of the lane.
Feeling more confident in the dimly lit room, I grab Conner’s hand and lean into him. His arm then goes around me. In the corner of my eye, Conner’s fingers tap against his jeans, and he glares ahead at the stand.
Soon enough, the light glares down on the stand, and Sammy and Renee are there. Sammy is wearing a cute floral dress that goes down below her knees and lace sandals.
“Hello and good evening, everyone!” she speaks vibrantly through the microphone, which earns her a few cheers and claps. “On everyone’s seat, there should be a booklet of all the performances tonight and their times. Itshouldgo no later than nine, but it might run later because of clearing the stage and props.”
I look around and then duck under our seats, but there isn’t a booklet. “We didn’t get one,” I whisper.
Conner shakes his head and whispers, “Don’t worry, baby. Besides, not knowing brings more excitement, don’t you reckon?”
“I suppose so.”
“All right. Instead of me standing up here rambling for half an hour, why don’t we get this talent show on the road, right?!”
There’s a lot of cheering and clapping.
“Okay. First up, we have a performance dance to… oh, the Backstreet Boys.”
A group of popular Year Twelve boys comes out wearing their caps backward, baggy jeans, and tight tank tops. My eyes widen, and I gain second-hand embarrassment when they dance. Obviously, this is supposed to be a funny joke of a dance. There’s a lot of laughter in the crowd.