Chapter 1

Ayleen's POV

My heart pounded as I stood in front of my new college, my reflection staring back at me in the glass of the towering building. My short floral dress swayed slightly in the breeze, a stark contrast to the towering cityscape behind me. This was it—a fresh start. A new chapter.

So why did doubt still gnaw at me?

Leaving home had been the hardest decision of my life. My family didn’t support me moving to New York, let alone chasing a career in music. But here I was, standing at the entrance of a future I had fought to carve out for myself. The excitement should have outweighed the fear, yet my fingers trembled as I adjusted the strap of my bag.

I glanced down at my watch, my pale wrist standing out against the dark leather strap. Serena was late. On our first day.

Figures.

When she finally arrived, she wasted no time making a face at my outfit.

“Sorry I’m late—wait, what are you wearing?” Her eyes scanned me, judgment clear in her voice. “Did you steal that from your little sister? You look like a kid.”

I sighed, already used to her blunt remarks. “Nice to see you too, Serena.”

“Seriously, Ayleen, it’s our first day at college, not a church picnic,” she continued, gesturing to her own tight crop top and ripped jeans.

I rolled my eyes. “Well, sorry I didn’t get the memo that I should dress like I’m auditioning for a music video.”

She smirked but let it go, linking her arm through mine as we pushed through the crowded hallway.

Once inside the classroom, I instinctively tried to steer us toward the back, but Serena had other plans. She strutted to the middle row, drawing glances from students as she tossed her red curls over her shoulder.

We were opposites in every way. While my wavy black hair fell in soft waves down my back, Serena’s wild curls framed her sharp brown eyes. She thrived on attention, and I did my best to avoid it.

As soon as we sat down, she leaned over. “Did you find a job yet?”

I exhaled. “No.”

“Ayleen.” Her tone shifted, panic creeping in. “If you don’t find something by the end of the week, we’re screwed. You know my parents aren’t sending me anything either. We’ll have no choice but to go back to Utah.”

“I know,” I muttered, anxiety twisting in my stomach. “I’ll figure something out, okay? Just give me time.”

The professor entered, silencing the room as he introduced himself and explained how the private tutor system worked. Each student would be assigned an instructor based on their instrument of choice. I played piano. Serena played violin. We’d share some classes, but our tutors would be separate.

“You have Professor Marcelo, right?” she asked, peering at my schedule.

I nodded. “Yeah. Apparently, he’s really strict.”

“You’ll be fine. You’re the most disciplined person I know,” she said before grinning. “Unlike me.”

I snorted. At least she was self-aware.

“You know what? You need a break,” she declared. “My cousin is playing at a bar tonight. Let’s go watch him.”

I gave her a pointed look. “Did you already forget what we talked about? I need a job.”

“Yes, but stressing all night won’t magically make one appear. Come on! It’ll be fun. And I promise, if you come with me, I’ll help you look for a job tomorrow.”

I hesitated, chewing on my lip. I should spend the night job hunting. But deep down, I knew she was right. If I had to leave New York, I’d regret not taking at least one night to enjoy it.

“…Fine,” I relented. “But you better help me tomorrow.”

After classes, we headed back to our apartment, where I spent hours scrolling through job listings. Nothing. Pianists weren’t exactly in high demand, at least not for paid gigs.

A knock interrupted my frustration.

Serena poked her head in. “You’re still not ready?”

“I was looking for a job,” I muttered.

“Any luck?”

I shook my head. “No one’s hiring pianists.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then stop looking for pianist jobs. Try something else.”

The thought made me uneasy, but I didn’t want to argue.

“Let’s just go,” I said, closing my laptop.

Serena’s eyes flicked to my dress. “You’re wearing that?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s the same dress from this morning.”

“So?”

She sighed dramatically. “You’re impossible. Whatever, let’s go.”

The bar was packed when we arrived. The air smelled like beer and sweat, the music thumping in the background. Serena led the way, weaving through the crowd until we spotted George near the stage. His red curls were even messier than Serena’s.

“I’m so glad you made it!” he said, pulling her into a hug.

“I figured I should experience at least one night out before I get sent back to Utah,” I muttered.

Before George could respond, a guy with dark curls and an anxious expression appeared.

“George, we have a problem,” he said.

“What now, Marcus?”

“Steven didn’t show up. Again. And we go on in fifteen minutes.”

George groaned. “If we cancel again, we’re done. You swore he’d be here.”

“I thought he’d be here! He’s an amazing pianist, but he keeps bailing.”

Serena suddenly perked up. “My friend Ayleen plays piano.”

My stomach dropped. No. Nope. Not happening.

All eyes turned to me.

Marcus frowned. “Are you even old enough to be in this bar?”

“I am” I said, slightly offended.

“Can you actually play?” George asked, skeptical.

“She studies at the best music college in the city,” Serena cut in. “Trust me, she’s incredible.”

George and Marcus exchanged a look before Marcus sighed. “We don’t have a choice. It’s her or no pianist at all.”

“No pressure,” I muttered.

George handed me a set of sheet music. “Can you play this?”

I scanned the notes. Their style was more punk rock than anything I was used to, but I could handle it.

“Yeah, no problem,” I said.

“We’ll be on stage in five minutes. You can use that keyboard.” Marcus pointed toward it.

Serena practically squealed. “See? I told you coming out was a good idea!”

“This isn’t a job,” I reminded her.

“Yet,” she smirked. “Blow them away, and they’ll replace Steven.”

I fiddled nervously with my dress. “And if I don’t blow them away?”

Serena gave me a pointed look. “You always do.”

As the band set up, I glanced at George and Marcus, noting their close proximity. “Are they a couple?” I asked, curious.

Serena looked horrified. “What?! No! My cousin isn’t gay.”

“Okay, but why are you so defensive?” I raised an eyebrow.

She crossed her arms. “We’re from a conservative family, you know that.”

“But if he was gay, you’d be okay with it… right?”

Serena hesitated. “I… guess so,” she muttered.

Before I could press further, the stage lights flickered on.

Taking a deep breath, I walked up and sat in front of the keyboard. My fingers brushed over the cool keys in a familiar ritual, feeling out the instrument.

A strange shiver ran down my spine.

I scanned the crowd. No one was paying attention yet, caught up in their drinks and conversations.

I exhaled.

Focus.

This was it.

One song to prove I belonged here—or to lose it all.