Love Maybe

Emily’s POV

"You were amazing," Layla exclaimed, rushing to me as soon as I finished my performance.

"You came? I'm glad. Thank you," I chuckled.

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world. You were amazing," Layla gushed, enveloping me in a hug.

"Thank you. We should get a drink," I suggested.

"Great idea, but we should wait for Danny. He went to get something from the car. He'll be back soon," Layla replied, her smile infectious.

Danny returned shortly, and we all headed to grab a drink.

"You did great. I told you there was nothing to worry about," Chris complimented as we took our seats.

"Thank you for giving her this job, Chris," Layla interjected.

"It was my pleasure," he smirked. "When I heard her sing, I knew I couldn’t just let her go like that," Chris added, directing his attention to me with a smile.

"So, can I get that drink now?" I asked, eager to lighten the mood.

"Of course, and it's on the house," he replied, touching my hand, which didn't go unnoticed by Layla, who shot me a knowing smirk.

Brushing off her look, we started drinking, toasting to my first night performing here. The bar was lively, filled with the hum of conversations and the clinking of glasses. The ambience was perfect, a blend of cosy and vibrant that made you feel at ease yet energized.

"To new beginnings," Chris declared, raising his glass. We all echoed the sentiment, clinking our glasses together.

The night continued with laughter and stories. Chris told us about his journey of opening the bar, and Layla shared some of our childhood memories. Danny chipped in with his usual humour, keeping everyone entertained. As the evening wore on, I felt a sense of belonging that I hadn't felt in a long time.

-----

"He likes you, Emily. You know that, right?" Layla said, breaking the silence on our way back to the apartment.

"I don’t understand. Who likes me?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Chris, of course. Don’t act like you haven't noticed the way he looks at you," she replied, prompting an eye roll from me.

"Trust me, he doesn’t like me. And even if he does, I'm not interested," I asserted, causing Layla to turn and scrutinize me.

"Why? Don’t tell me you're still hung up on Ethan," she prodded.

"Hell no, Ethan is bad news, and I'm done with him," I confirmed.

"So what's the problem?" she persisted.

"I've given up on love, Layla. I'm done getting hurt," I confessed, and her eyes softened with pity.

"Don’t say that. You can't give up on love. Love is a beautiful thing that everyone deserves to experience. That person who will show you the love you deserve is out there. I just know it. But you have to open your heart to receive love when it comes," she said, her hand offering comfort.

I allowed Layla’s words to linger in my mind, wrestling with the question of whether I was still worthy of the love she spoke of. The memories of Ethan's betrayal were still fresh, like a wound that refused to heal. He had been my world, and when he shattered my heart, it felt like the end of everything.

"No, I can't risk giving my heart up again to be broken. It's had its fair share of heartbreaks, so never again," I resolved silently as I fought back tears.

We arrived home quickly, and I rushed to my room before anyone could stop me, Layla's words still echoing in my head. The apartment was quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling bar we had just left. As I closed my bedroom door, the silence was almost deafening.

"Give love a chance, Emily," her voice echoed in my mind as I collapsed onto the bed.

"No... never again," I murmured to myself, drifting off to sleep without even changing out of my dress.

---

The next morning, the sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room. I blinked awake, feeling the stiffness in my muscles from sleeping in my dress. The events of the previous night came rushing back, and I sighed deeply.

After freshening up, I made my way to the kitchen, where Layla was already bustling around, making breakfast. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and I couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of it all.

“Morning,” Layla greeted, handing me a cup of coffee.

“Morning,” I replied, taking a sip. “Thanks for last night. It was fun.”

“It was, wasn’t it? And you were fantastic on stage,” Layla said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Thanks,” I said, feeling a warmth in my chest. “It felt good to perform again.”

As we sat down to eat, the conversation flowed easily. Layla talked about her plans for the day, and I listened, feeling a sense of contentment. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was on the right path.

Later that day, I had a rehearsal at the bar. Chris was there, setting up the equipment. When he saw me, he smiled warmly.

“Ready for round two?” he asked, handing me a microphone.

“Always,” I replied with a grin.

As I sang, I felt a sense of freedom wash over me. I had never thought music would be a type of escape for me, a way to express what I couldn’t put into words. And here, in this new city, it was becoming my sanctuary.

After the rehearsal, Chris and I sat down for a drink. The bar was empty, the usual hustle and bustle replaced with a serene calm.

“You’re talented, Emily. You have a gift,” Chris said, looking at me intently.

“Thank you,” I replied, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. “I knew I could sing but I never thought anything more of it. but it is slowly becoming a passion for me.

“I can tell,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “You light up when you’re on stage.”

His words made my heart flutter, and I looked away, trying to hide my embarrassment. Chris was kind and attentive, qualities I hadn’t seen in a man for a long time. But I couldn’t let myself get carried away.

“I should get going,” I said, standing up. “Thanks for the rehearsal.”

“Anytime I am always happy to spend time with you,” Chris replied, his smile never fading.