I’m not alone in going breathless, however. All the talking stops immediately, just as soon as Shane sings the first lines. He’s got rich tone with just a hint of a growl, and it underscores the aching strains he evokes in a melody I’d previously considered pugnacious, defiant even. But somehow, the way he plays the song, along with the slower melody, he elicits a touch of pathos. The girls behind me let out a collective sigh when he sings the line, “I don’t think I want to be saved,” because he sounds like he’s drowning, and I’m pretty sure everyone in the room wants to rescue him.

I do, too.

“Wow,” Jace breathes. “This is a badass cover.”

I can only nod.

Without a single word of segue or explanation, Shane sings the last notes and immediately begins the next song. This one takes me even longer to identify; the Pretty Reckless isn’t my favorite band, though I like Taylor Momsen’s voice. If the first song was soulful, this one is a broken heart; it’s every bad marriage that ever fell apart, every family splintered, and everyone who’s ever seen somebody they love drive off in the middle of the night. As he sings, I can imagine a couple fighting in the street—she’s drunk and he’s broken. Oh God, Shane does broken so beautifully.

I can’t stand it.

I never cry in public, but I can feel the tears starting, a hot burn in my eyes. Shit. At least I’m not wearing mascara. Beside me, Jace stirs, but I only have eyes for Shane. Suddenly I can’t breathe, can’t figure out what the hell he sees in me, but I can’t look away, either. And that’s when I realize, his eyes are locked on mine. Until this moment, I didn’t notice; I thought he was off in music land, but he’s lost in me instead. Though he’s not letting on, he’s scared and I’m holding him steady. I wonder if he’s ever performed in public before. Somehow I manage an encouraging smile.

That’s it. Sing to me. Just me.

When he sings the question, “Do you understand who I am?” I nod because the answer to any question he asks me will always be yes. Maybe I’m in too deep, too fast. I haven’t known him for very long, all things considered, but I’m falling in love, song by song. The room is dead silent when he finishes this one, like the audience doesn’t dare breathe, let alone applaud, but Shane doesn’t need motivation to continue. He’s already strumming the next number.

I’m surprised to recognize a song by an Australian band, one I’d swear few people in the U.S. know about yet. I found them on YouTube, so I guess it makes sense that Shane did, too. And this song. OMG. It breaks my heart because I could be singing it to him, asking these questions. “Why, why me? When you could have had anybody.” I ask myself if he’s singing this for a reason, if he saw how much I doubt belonging with someone like him, someone hot and talented.

I’m so not enough. I can’t be. I smile, and I act happy, and I pretend. I’m the queen of bright and shiny things, eternally looking for the positive and seeking a silver lining in the dark. He’s dating a girl I invented three years ago because the real me is horrible, and I wanted to leave her behind, along with the group home and the court-mandated therapy sessions. I want so bad to be normal, but I never can be.

I can’t. Not after what I’ve done.

The tears slip down, but I’m not alone. Other women look misty, but this number isn’t as sad as the others. He infuses this one with a sweetness that melts the females in the audience, regardless of age. Shane cradles them all in long, graceful fingers; he has them hanging on his every word, every note. The women are all breathless and smiling by the time he winds the song down, ending on a sexy flourish.

The next one, I don’t know at all, but as I listen, I know I’ll be looking for it online to compare the original with Shane’s version, which is somewhere between melancholy and bittersweet. To me, it feels like he’s singing about endings, letting go, and saying good-bye. We both know too much about that, he and I. I listen and dry up my tears, eyes half closed with the sheer power of Shane’s voice. He should have his own channel online, where he posts videos of himself singing. I suspect he’d have a million views and record companies wanting to sign him. I see that future stretched ahead of him like a strand of pearls, and I don’t see a place for me there. Sometimes when you meet someone, you can glimpse the future around them like swirls of smoke, and he’s like that, marked for greatness. Someday people will watch him on TV and onstage; and they’ll marvel they knew him, even for a little while.

I’m marveling now.

Finally, he speaks, pausing in his performance. “This is actually meant to be a duet, but I like the song so much that I’m going to try it solo. Be gentle, okay?”

Soft laughter greets his words, which tells me he’s won the room completely. From there, he flows right into a dreamy-folksy number, more upbeat though still with plenty of heart. This song feels like it’s about healing and new beginnings, and I memorize a few of the lines, so I can Google them later. When I get home, I’ll discover some new band. I can envision how it would sound sung in harmony. Beautiful. That could be my theme, and I’m smiling along with the rest of the listeners when he finishes.

Good Charlotte is up next, one of my favorite bands. But Shane picks “Wondering” instead of a more popular choice, like “The Anthem.” His arrangement is unique and masterful, using not just the strings of the guitar but thumps on the body as well. He’s confident now, and he seems to be having fun. Music is such a personal thing, but it lights him up when he plays. I’ve never been to the ocean, but I imagine Shane’s eyes look exactly like sunlight on the Caribbean, and in this moment, they’re shining just for me. His hair tumbles over his forehead as he plays, rocking a little. I could watch him forever.

Apparently the audience agrees because when he tries to stand up and take an awkward bow to indicate he’s done, someone shouts, “Encore!”

“I never get asked for an encore,” Jace mumbles.

“That’s my whole set list,” Shane says.

“Not even one more?” a girl from our school begs.

Yeah, this performance will probably change his status at school a lot. He won’t be a nobody that Dylan Smith can easily push around; and that makes me happy, even while I wonder how it’ll affect us. I mean, I don’t think that Shane is so shallow that he’ll ditch me for the first hot girl who flips her hair when he walks by. Still, I’m nervous. My life has already changed so much, so fast.

I don’t know if I can handle more.

His cheeks are flushed when he sits back down. “I do have an original song I’ve been working on. Would you like to hear it?”

They convince him with applause this time. I notice the barista perched on the bar; nobody has stirred to buy drinks or order muffins this whole time. Shane’s captivated the whole room, and I 100 percent understand why. I can’t look away either. So naturally, they applaud to encourage him, and he launches into something new.

“Monday, midnight / People say it’ll be all right / I see the tunnel / But there’s no light.”

It’s a simple melody, but haunting. The people around me seem to be barely breathing. “Life is bitter, bittersweet / It all changed in a heartbeat / Too little, too late / Only my heart to break / I close my eyes and / I fade away / fade away.”

I listen as he sings on, pouring his heart into this song. There’s so much raw sorrow in his voice that I could cry listening to him, and I already fought it down once. His music is a direct line to emotions I’ve pretended I don’t feel anymore. I’m afraid to be sad or angry, afraid Shadow Sage will slip her chain and I’ll find myself in the dark place again. I can’t afford that when I’ve fought so hard to stay in the light. His voice scours me raw; he’s relentless.