Chapter 14
Tori's mom appeared in the doorway a little later, purse in hand and car keys jingling. "Tori, sweetie, it's ti to go."
Tori stood, brushing imaginary dust off her jeans, and glanced at . Her expression was sowhere between reluctant and thoughtful.
"Well," she said, walking toward the door with following behind, "today wasn't half as weird as I thought it'd be."
"High praise," I said with a grin.
When we reached the front steps, she turned suddenly and gave a quick, unexpected hug.
"We should, like, talk again or sothing," she said. "Maybe call each other?"
"Yeah," I said, blinking. "Sure. I'd like that."
She smiled and jogged down the steps to where her mom was waiting, leaving standing there like a kid who wasn't quite sure what just happened.
As the car pulled away, I was still on the porch when Charlie ca out with a coffee mug and his usual smug expression.
"Well, well, Roo," he said, nudging with his elbow. "Didn't take you long to find yourself a girlfriend."
"She's not my girlfriend," I muttered, rolling my eyes.
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Not your girlfriend yet?"
I almost said "yet." Almost. But I caught myself.
"Just a friend," I said instead, looking out toward the street. "Maybe in a few years..." I thought, then quickly shook the thought away.
Right on cue, Alan stepped into the scene, adjusting his shirt like he'd just walked out of a counseling session.
"What's going on?" he asked, looking between us.
Charlie grinned. "Jake's got a new friend. Cute girl. Sang a duet. Hugged him. Definitely a thing."
Alan squinted. "Isn't she the daughter of that married woman who was here earlier?"
Charlie shrugged. "Technicalities."
Alan crossed his arms and gave him that classic disappointed dad stare. "Charlie, she's married. You were flirting with a married woman in front of her daughter. Do you even hear yourself?"
Charlie raised his hands innocently. "Hey, I was being supportive. Like a charming ntor figure."
"Right. A charming ntor figure who kept asking if she liked Italian food and calling her 'gorgeous' every five minutes," Alan said, deadpan.
I snorted and headed back inside before I got dragged into their bickering.
That night, lying in bed with the ceiling fan humming above , I stared up at nothing in particular.
Today reminded of sothing.
In my past life, I never had any talent for sports. And judging by the way I played soccer with a bunch of twelve-year-olds earlier this week, nothing's changed. Sure, I can keep up, maybe even win a few playground gas—but let's not kid ourselves. I'm no prodigy with a ball.
What I do have is intelligence. I'm smart enough now to get into a top university again. Harvard, maybe. But that's now—after so years, I would be in the middle of the pack (of a top college). Still very impressive. But not genius-level.
And yet, I'm okay with that.
I might end up becoming the greatest investor in history.
Tori showing up might concern a bit —but things have still followed the general path I rember. And I'm not foolish enough to invest blindly just because I "know" the future. I still read the reports. I still follow the news. I analyze every company before touching a cent. I still gonna bet with so sizable money.
But fa? As a singer? That thought had never crossed my mind.
Back in my old life, I took piano lessons as a hobby. Singing, though? I was never any good. But this voice... in this life... it's different. Maybe I have a talent for it.
Could I actually do sothing with that?
I turned over on my side and pulled the blanket up.
Just sothing to think about.
Tomorrow, maybe I'll test a few more songs.
And that's exactly what I did.
The next morning, after breakfast, I walked into the living room where Charlie was halfway through his second cup of coffee, lazily flipping through a magazine.
"Hey, Uncle Charlie," I said, leaning against the back of the couch. "Random question: can you teach more piano stuff?"
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "You want to give you piano lessons?"
I shrugged. "You are a jingle writer, right? You must know enough to show so stuff. Maybe so chords, songwriting tips?"
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What's this about? Did Tori say she liked musicians or sothing?"
I rolled my eyes. "No, I'm just interested. Thought I'd give it a shot."
Charlie smirked. "You? Voluntarily learning music? Who are you and what have you done with my nephew?"
"Co on," I said. "You gonna help or not?"
He sighed dramatically. "Fine. But if I catch you writing a song called 'My Heart Belongs in Algebra Class,' I'm out."
I grinned. "Deal."
"Oh," I added, pausing. "Do you know anyone who could give voice lessons? Like, actual singing training?"
Charlie looked at , then blinked. "Wow. You're serious."
"I think I might be good," I said. "Like, surprisingly good. And I want to see how far I can take it."
He nodded slowly. "Alright, I might know a guy. Used to work with so backup singers. I'll make a call."
And just like that, I decided to give it a real shot.
Singing. Performing. Maybe even writing sothing original (nah, not gonna happen, I totally ok with plagiarism)
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