Moving Forward (Moving Neutral, Book Three) by Katy Atlas Read Free Book Online Page A

and yelling.  I was trying to stay calm, but the reaction floored me—I felt myself breaking into a grin, feeling the crowd’s excitement giving me confidence.
    When I was standing squarely in the middle of the stage, I finally risked it.
    I glanced over at Blake’s face.
    Usually Blake was the best poker player on earth — you could look at him and couldn’t get a thing he didn’t want you to see.  He could be happy, angry, stressed, dropping out of his band, dropping out of school, and you couldn’t see a hint of it on his perfect features.
    But today he was an open book.  I felt my body go limp with relief when I realized it wasn’t anger — there was something else in his expression as he looked at me. 
    I met his eyes, and suddenly there wasn’t a stage or a crowd.  Suddenly it was just me, getting lost in Blake Parker’s blue eyes, like I had a thousand times.
    Blake shook his head at me, like he was trying to force himself to be angry, but his eyes were sparkling and I could see a smile creep along his jaw.  No anger, not really.  He was looking at me with exasperation, like a puppy that wouldn’t stop nipping at his fingers.  Exasperated, but he was having fun. 
    I smiled at him sheepishly, and I saw his shoulders shake with a concealed laugh as he rolled his eyes. 
    I lowered my microphone away from us, and tilted my head towards his.
    “You didn ’t return my calls,” I said, shrugging my shoulders innocently.
    He choked down a laugh.  “So — this?  You did this?”
    I tilted my head and grinned at him.  “Dream big, you know?”  I wanted to say more, but the rest of the band was ready to go.  “You ready?”
    He was still smiling.  I’d missed that smile. 
    “Yeah ,” he said, flexing his fingers and setting them down on the guitar strings. “Yeah, count it out.”

 
    Chapter Eleven
     
    The crowd was going nuts after our song, and I wished we had an encore. 
    Maybe Blake and I could write one , I thought to myself, biting back a grin.
    “Thanks guys,” I said to the audience, smiling shyly into the crowd.  I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to being onstage, but tonight, I’d had a blast.  I handed the microphone off to Liv, who tossed it casually to their lead singer as they segued into another song. 
    I snuck a quick smile at Blake, and headed backstage to watch the end of the set. 
    There were beers in a cooler in the green room, and I grabbed one of them, giddy and relaxed now that everything had gone smoothly. 
    Blake Parker. 
    And I.
    Had just performed a song.
    T hat we’d written. 
    Together.
    Each part was too good to be true on its own, but all together?  It was too much.  I wanted to say, it was the best day of my life .  But since I’d met Blake, I’d had too many best days to count.
    And worst , a little voice in my head reminded me.  I’d had plenty of worst days too.
    A few of the guys backstage murmured smiles and congratulations as I took my place at the side of the stage, where I’d watched Blake’s concerts all summer. 
    I wished he could play Moving Neutral songs, the ones that he’d written, but he told me that they were part of his settlement with the record label — he’d get royalties for as long as the band played them, but he couldn’t use them on his own.  It didn’t seem fair — but then, a lot of things didn’t seem exactly fair about all of this.
    For a pretty small ve nue, the applause was thunderous when Blake stepped off the stage, almost running directly into me.  We grinned at each other, his eyes focusing on me and turning tender, like he couldn’t stop himself.
    F or a second we just stood there smiling, like we didn’t have to say anything more.
    “That was fun,” he said, moving away from the stage and picking up a beer.
    “You’re welcome,” I said in a singsong voice, following him.  “I guess you owe me one, huh?”
    “I’ll take it off the list, Case.” 
    Don’t push your luck was the