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signals.

"I’ll grab a pint," I tell her, gritting my teeth, as I stare at the wall ahead. "Want anything?"

"No, thanks." She heads back to our table.

When I reach the bar, the middle-aged man is gone.

What in the queen’s name just happened? She might fancy me, but she still seems hung up on Toby. Then there’s her whole no-musicians rule, which she almost threw away just a few minutes ago. I can’t understand what she wants to do.

After consuming another pint, I walk back outside and sit on the pavement.

What a day.

I stay seated on the pavement for a couple of minutes.

"Sorry, Cameron." I don’t think I’m ready to face her yet, but she’s back.

"That was out of line. I hope you don’t think I was trying to use you to get back at him."

Tonight we almost crossed a messy and tricky line. Best to stay friends first, I decide.

"Oh, I’m such a prick. A stupid, stuck prick."

I hold my hand up at her and stop her from saying anything more.

"We’ve all had flings sometime in our lives, haven’t we?" I begin. "You need to move on, girl." I do my best imitation of Amber.

Cassie laughs.

"It’s part of who you are. Don’t be ashamed of it."

She’s got tears amid the laughter.

"You’re always the one encouraging us to be a better version of ourselves. Time you do the same, yeah?" I say.

She nods and rests her head on my shoulder. "You know, it’s because of Toby that I don’t date musicians…That I can’t."

"I understand." I mean it. She needs to know she can trust someone like that again.

Before anything else, we have to build up this young tree, and let the ship sail to the farthest corners of the globe.

I know that we can’t be anything but mates for quite some time. And somehow I’ll have to find a way to be all right with that.

This time, when I take her hand, it’s a gesture of comfort. "Our dirty little secret," I tease.

Her figure shakes beside me.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Another day, another city. It’s the first time I’ve gone to Cardiff. In this city, we have no sponsor, i.e. the Cardiff city hub manager does not have enough space in his house to host us all. Bristol would have been easy—we’ve loads of contacts there—but since this is a place new to most of us, we go for the next best thing: Uni accommodations.

Though we booked single rooms, this one is big enough to fit three. There’s a single bed, but the floor can fit another mattress. Eric claims the bed as soon as we enter the room. We are here two more nights to make the journey worthwhile and to rest up. Maybe busk around whilst Eric does his best to land us gigs last minute.

The other night’s pub debacle is proof of how much we have to grow as a band. We need more time on stage, in front of people who may or may not like our music. Though this band started with me, it’s not just my music anymore. It’s ours. My mates deserve the credit for helping grow my songs into what they are.

The Hush Society is great exposure in itself since a lot of people hear about it, but nothing beats the classic pub or open mic night performance to build our confidence as a band.

We planned to record "Brick Walls" at Bristol’s Hush Society episode, but since that was cancelled, we adjust our schedule.

It’s been a couple of days since I sent Dad the link to our first video, but still no word from him. Everyone else sent words of encouragement. I get that he doesn’t support this part of me, but would it hurt him to lessen his pride and reply to me? I’m already reaching out. Two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have. But now, I realise it’s important to mend this strained relationship even if I am miles away. He is still my Dad. But he is stubborn and trying to prove his point.

Benji, Eric, and I are about to slip out of our room to go to the garden lot below and work on our songs when Eric sees me scribbling out a mess of lyrics and notes into Benji’s notebook.

"It’s about Cassie, innit?" Eric says, nonchalant. "I saw you two the other night. Why do the girls always get the songs? What about us guys? Do girls serenade us with songs of love, no way!"

"That’s not true," Benji says and names out a few songs written by female singers. "Think Haley Williams, Alicia Keys, and even Katy Perry."

"I was being dramatic," Eric groans. "Sheesh."

"Drama queen," I tease.

Eric narrows his eyes at me, but Benji gives us a look, so we drop it.

"So, what is this song about?" Eric jumps on our inflatable mattress. Benji and I are propelled in the air for a couple of seconds and crash unto the bed.

"Oi!" Benji shouts.

"Anything interesting happen the other night?" Eric continues as he raises his eyebrows up and down multiple times.

"None of your business." Cassie will probably figure it out as soon as she hears the lyrics.

"It is our business; we’re your band mates." He’s smug now.

"You cheeky little lad," I say. "Go figure."

"I’ll ask Cassie then."

"Go ahead," I dare.

"Are we gonna work on this song or not?" Benji sighs.

"Yes!" Eric and I shout in unison.

Without any more interruptions, we head outside.

#

We spend the rest of the morning writing, revising, polishing our songs.

"What do you lads say about doing something more with our music?" I ask after we finish practising "Electrified" and put down my guitar. "And not just writing songs like ‘Brick Walls,’ but something bigger than that."

Eric does a drum roll on his Cajon.

Benji looks intrigued. "How?"

"The other night, after what happened at The Seven Mermaids, I began to doubt myself," I say. "Was absolutely gutted that the crowd hated us—hated me."

"Cameron," Benji says with a tone that reminds me of what we’d talked about in Westwood—committing to

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