Heartbreaker [h.s.]

Chapter One

"Oh, shit," she mutters, "they're pretty good. I've got a few of their songs saved on Spotify," she muses.

I swipe some inky black mascara over my light lashes and try my best to not get it all over my eyelid. "Yeah," I say, trying to concentrate, "their guitarist left suddenly, something about having to go to rehab, and they need someone to fill that spot for their tour that starts next month."

"Do you know anything about them, Char?" Eva asks curiously.

Truthfully, I haven't done much research. Someone I work with at the Youth Music Center told me about it and said I should send in a demo, so I did. I didn't think twice because I'm just trying to get my foot through any door that'll open for me in the music world.

I'm not sure if not knowing anything will work in my favor or not. I guess I'll find out soon enough, though.

"Not much. I know that one song by them, Medicine. But besides that, can't say I know much." I finish off my makeup with a bit of concealer to hide the lack of sleep I got last night and rosy blush to make me look more alive. It'll have to do for today.

"I mean, I don't know much either, but I've seen a music video of theirs, and they're all really attractive," she says with a sly smirk.

"I couldn't care less what they look like, as long as they choose me to take the spot, then I quite literally don't care." I'm not looking to get entangled in anything with any of them, no matter how hot they may be. This is strictly a business matter. I don't need that to fuck up my future.

"Well, you might not care, but me on the other hand—" she giggles, "you're going to have to introduce me."

I huff at Eva. "You're talking like I've already got it."

"That's how much faith I have in you," she asserts with a pointed finger.

"Don't jinx it," I tut at her, irked. She's my best friend but god, she's annoying sometimes.

Stuffing some lip gloss and my AirPods into my black leather purse, my mind and my stomach is swirling with nerves. I'm not one to get nervous often, but something about this is making me ridden with that foreign feeling.

I've never been one to particularly have trouble with confidence. Not in a cocky, I'm-better-than-everyone way, but in a way where I just believe in myself and my talents with my entire being. Maybe it goes back to having a mother who thought the world revolved around me growing up—they aren't perfect, but she did instill an innate confidence in me.

I know I'm a fantastic guitar player. I know I have a real shot at getting this gig.

But still, the nerves are getting to me this time.

I stand in front of Eva and smooth out the leather pants that are quite uncomfortable, even if they do make my legs look a mile long. The white top I wear is simple, showing a sliver of my stomach. Gold hoops in my ears and a dainty gold necklace at my throat. Professional but not too professional because, you know, I'm auditioning for an indie-rock band, not a 9 to 5 office job. "So how do I look?" I ask.

She clasps her hands together. "You look fucking hot as hell, Char," she says.

"Well, duh," I joke, "but do I look like I can also be taken seriously as a guitar player? Be honest." Eva's face softens as she places her cold hands on my bare shoulders.

"Charlotte, you are going to blow them the fuck away." Her voice is laced with sincerity, easing my racing heart. "Also, you better be ready after to celebrate! We're gonna get drunk."

I hug my best friend tight and laugh. "Well even if I do get the gig, I have classes in the morning." I release my arms from her and begin gathering my things.