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340 pages, Kindle Edition
Published October 15, 2026
And Then He Pressed Play: Track Two is the successor to Track One, a book I happily rated four and a half stars, and I was ecstatic at the chance to read it early! Thanks again to the author for giving me the opportunity. I’d provide a summary, but Goodreads offers a pretty decent one and I’m too lazy to come up with my own.
Spoiler-Free Review
As soon as I opened the book, chapter one brought me right back to the giddiness I’d felt while reading Track One—that specific brand of young excitement you only feel as a seventeen-year-old sneaking out for a party or kissing someone in the backseat of a car. Really, something I have to praise the series as a whole for is how easily it creates a mood and entrenches the reader in the world.
With every chapter after the first I found myself as enamored with Moose Jaw as Bren, hopelessly charmed by AJ’s hometown and his excitement to show it off. Meeting Nat and Yu, AJ’s best friends, was such a treat; Nat was especially a delight. Every scene she appeared in, I was glued to the page just waiting to see what she had to say. AJ’s family was also lovely, and it was kinda hilarious to see where he gets his everything from. The apple certainly didn’t fall far from the tree!
Unfortunately, it couldn’t keep that momentum going forever. Without spoiling anything, all I can really say is that while I understand what the first half was angling for, it fell flat for me. In fact, it fell so flat that I worried I wouldn’t be able to appreciate the series as a whole in the same way I had before I’d read Track Two. I even considered DNFing the book, and that is a difficult thing to do. Thankfully, I was proven right to push forward. The second half was significantly more interesting to me, and to be entirely candid, I felt it was executed with much more thoughtfulness than the first.
And Then He Pressed Play: Track Two struggles at times, but when it finds its stride, it offers a vibrant and exciting look into AJ and Bren’s ever-deepening relationship. If you enjoyed Track One, this sequel is a must-read.
The remainder of this review will contain spoilers for And Then He Pressed Play: Track One and And Then He Pressed Play: Track Two
To be entirely honest, I’m including this part of the review to elaborate on what I disliked about Track Two, though I'll also mention a few things I enjoyed. These thoughts are mine and mine alone, and I will say that I have high standards, so please don’t let me color your opinion of what I genuinely found to be a fun read with a lot to love.
Without further ado, there are three primary issues that I have with this book, in order of least to most distracting:
1) Chapters 10-12
2) Dustin Richards
3) The Fall Musical
Item number one brings me to chapters 9-12, and I will say it right now: these are my least favorite chapters in the entire book and it is not even close.
At the end of chapter 9, AJ learns that Bren needs to pass all of his classes with 90s and above or his mother won’t sign off on an extension for his Canadian visa. This is a pretty major plot point and culminates roughly halfway through the book, and I like it a lot! I thought it was an interesting point of contention and I was excited to see what problems popped up as a result (which I will elaborate on when discussing item three).
What I wasn’t expecting was for AJ and Bren to fight about it in chapter 10. On paper, that’s an awesome way to introduce conflict, and I was incredibly interested to see what happened next. However, without mincing my words, the fight serves next to no greater narrative purpose and that is deeply disappointing.
To provide context, AJ is concerned that Bren won’t be able to excel in his classes while also practicing for the fall musical, and he’s also worried about Bren’s travel expenses. Without thinking, AJ asks if it wouldn’t have made more sense for Bren to have stayed in Ireland for the school year rather than forcing himself into a significantly more stressful situation just to be in Canada, and Bren is heartbroken by this. He’s simultaneously appalled that AJ would imply he should go back to Ireland after everything he’s done to be there with him, hurt that he doesn’t have faith in Bren’s ability to pass his classes at the level required of him, and offended by AJ’s insinuation that he can’t afford to be there. Bren lashes out and runs off, and AJ starts to wonder if this will be what breaks them up.
Really, my only problem with this fight in a vacuum is that Bren has never mentioned being insecure about his intelligence, and it never gets brought up again. It kinda feels like Halliwell needed something else for Bren to be upset about and arbitrarily made the decision for him to care about being called dumb, and really only for these chapters. I would’ve liked to see a scene where Bren talks to Nat or even just ruminates by himself over how unexpectedly hurtful it was to hear AJ doubt his intelligence, both because it would add a new facet to his character and because it would explain why that was something he cared about to begin with.
The fight is resolved in chapter 12; AJ finds Bren skipping stones at a river he’d shown him earlier in the book, and they make up after a short chat where Bren assures AJ that no, his life is not made worse for having him in it. There isn’t really anything else to say about this scene, the boys get over themselves and everything is fine by chapter 13.
Narratively speaking, chapters 9-12 serve to introduce Bren’s deal with his mother, the fact that he hid said deal from AJ, and to get the boys on the same page. That’s fine and all, but my issue lies in the fact that the fight is resolved almost instantly. From the initial argument to its resolution, three hours go by, and in that time what insight do we gain into AJ or Bren? There isn’t any discussion of how they hurt each other, or even really what they feel about the fight itself. We do learn that AJ is scared about their future and that Bren is hangry, so that’s something.
A conflict like this should be an opportunity to let the reader into the protagonists’ heads so we can learn about their wants, their fears, what they’re hurt by and what they do when they’re cornered. Chapter 10’s fight is a perfect setup to learn about AJ’s anxieties for the future while also showing us that he is capable of introspection regarding how he’s hurt Bren, and similarly, it gives Bren the chance to reflect on what AJ said and work out how he feels. Unfortunately, we don’t see any of that. There isn’t any introspection, reflection, or consequences. I can’t help but feel that if this argument had been stretched over another few chapters, or at the very least given more than three in-universe hours to build tension, it would feel more coherent. I just wanted more from this.
Moving on to item number two, here’s the thing. It’s obvious to me that the audience is meant to like Dustin. Objectively speaking, he’s a cheerful meathead who, from his first appearance onward, isn’t afraid to stand up for what’s right. He’s rambunctious and outgoing and I really wanted to like him! Regrettably, his introduction in chapter 14 grossed me out so bad that I spent my remaining time with the book DREADING his every appearance.
When I turned to said chapter, there was a while where I was interested in him. He was clearly intended as comic relief, but given Halliwell’s ability to write charming and dynamic side characters (as seen in Track One), I had faith that Dustin would have more going on than being a gym rat and getting his dick wet—which, admittedly, is partially true. We learn in chapter 47, roughly 80% through the book, that Dustin is a closeted gay man and has been in an on-again-off-again relationship with another character, Suveer, since they were preteens. It’s clear in retrospect that Dustin’s constant (and I mean nonstop) bragging about how many girls he bangs is his way of deflecting from his queerness, and that’s fine in theory, but there are a couple of issues with it in practice.
The first is that at least to me, Dustin being closeted came as a surprise. If there was foreshadowing, I must’ve missed it, because it hadn’t even registered as an option to me at first blush. I’m not going to say I have perfect insight and caught everything, there very well might’ve been a line here or there that eagle-eyed readers would catch and clock for what they are, but I missed them and subsequently spent 80% of the book thinking he was just a caricature of a painfully straight jock.
The second is that because Dustin comes out so late in the book, we spend the vast majority of our time with him understanding him to be a sex pest who ditches his friends to get laid, which nobody really minds. AJ and Nat say they’re frustrated with him, but the second he stands up for AJ and Bren and trash talks Morgan, people change their tune near instantly. Dustin admitting that Morgan sucks and the main cast accepting him into their friend group happens within a single chapter! There’s a suggestion that they’re cautious of him, but that suspicion is immediately defused by Arlo asking about his costume for the musical. I need to stress: I don’t have a problem with Dustin being brought into the fold, it just feels unearned. If all he has to do to win AJ and Nat over (after blowing them off every time he gets a girlfriend) is gossip about a homophobe, what was the point of any of the multiple instances where they talk about how he ditched them?
The third (and arguably most important) problem is that Dustin’s being closeted doesn’t add anything to his character.
He doesn’t struggle from being closeted until we learn about his turbulent relationship with Suveer, and even then, Dustin only struggles conceptually, as Suveer agrees to go public with him at his first suggestion. Furthermore, Dustin is a staunch ally to the queer people in his life—defending Bren in his introduction, standing up to and then dumping Morgan, and vocally supporting AJ and Bren every chance he gets—and that’s awesome! But it’s also really easy.
In real life, a teenage boy in Dustin’s shoes would very likely experience internalized homophobia, especially in the late 2000s. If we were to write Dustin from a different angle, he might fall in line with his friends and make homophobic jokes to protect his identity, or even just stand back and watch it happen. If we still want him to be an ally, then he could be an imperfect one. He might support queer people in private but ignore them in public, or say that he supports queer folks, but maybe they should tone it down when they're in public? Not because there’s anything wrong with being queer, just that some people might feel a certain kind of way and it’s best not to make waves, right?
Or, we could keep Dustin as vocally supportive as he is in canon, and have him hate himself for not coming out. If nothing is wrong with being gay, why can’t he go public with Suveer already? Why is he such a coward? His boyfriend doesn’t deserve someone as useless as him! I’m just spitballing, but you get it.
My point is: Dustin feels underbaked. From when we are first introduced to him to where he winds up by the end of the book, Dustin hasn’t changed in any meaningful way. And if he weren’t so prevalent in the story, I wouldn’t even care about that! But Halliwell wants us to care about him, to root for him, and that requires more than comic relief and a hamfisted coming out arc in my opinion.
Finally, I have to talk about the fall musical. I want to be clear when I say I liked a lot of it! There’s a lot that happens between the cast signing up for the musical and its closing night that I genuinely loved, like getting familiarized with Moose Jaw and seeing AJ and Bren get to be gross and cute in public in a way they really didn’t have a chance to do in Track One. However, there are a lot of opportunities for interesting plotlines that don’t go anywhere, and that’s disappointing. I’m going to try to get through this as quickly as possible because this is already an obscenely long review.
My first and least significant critique is that Bren makes a couple comments about how awful it would be if his friends back in Ireland found out he was performing in a musical, but they never do. Like, literally nothing happens. Rory makes a joke about it, so at the very least one person knows, but otherwise Bren’s worries are an entirely irrelevant thing to mention. I would’ve liked to see a scene where Mickie or Orlaith mentions hearing something from AJ and they slag Bren for it, or if nothing else a throwaway line where Bren thinks, “Wow, I’m so glad nobody figured out I was in a musical!”
My second critique is that despite Bren struggling in his classes in Track One, we really don’t see him struggle much academically in Track Two. There are numerous points early on where characters talk about how time consuming the fall musical can be, and that coupled with the deal Bren made with his mother made me think there would be at least one scene where he doesn’t have time to study for a test and bombs it, or he passes with an eighty and has to beg the teacher for extra credit or something, and there wasn’t. He sure gripes about how much work he has to do, but ultimately he sails through his studies without the reader ever feeling particularly worried for his grades. I wanted more from this and was thoroughly disappointed by what we got instead.
My third critique is that Morgan Clark is an absolute waste of an antagonist and I weep for what she could have been. She is the only actively homophobic person in all of Moose Jaw and she makes one (1) homophobic comment and is immediately erased from the narrative. Every scene that she’s in builds up her duplicitous nature and wretched vibes and the first time she does something interesting by saying AJ and Bren shouldn’t be as lovey-dovey in public, she never appears on screen again. I get that these books are meant to tell a story where queer people win in the end, but come on, AJ gets hatecrimed so brutally that he almost dies in Track One and Track Two gives the Canadian homophobe one scene where she’s unanimously decided to be the asshole before giving her the boot?
Morgan is the president of the student government despite being decidedly unpopular in the role, given the only other people in SGA (all three of them) act like she doesn’t exist, and she doesn’t even seem that popular outside of SGA anyway. She’s presented to the audience as someone in a position of power, someone to take seriously, but she never abuses said power to get things to go her way. I was expecting the book to tackle a more bureaucratic look at homophobia with Morgan, where someone who has connections and/or authority pulls some strings to mildly or majorly inconvenience queer people. I was expecting Morgan to get the principal of Peacock Collegiate to force AJ and Bren apart during the musical or they’d be replaced in their roles or something. I was expecting Morgan to go, “Actually, my father is very generous to the school, and he thinks it’s for the best if nontraditional relationships like yours stay behind closed doors,” and have Bren kicked out. Literally anything past just… saying something homophobic one time. She could have been as intimidating as Cian! And instead, she’s a joke. We don’t even get to see Nat beat her up!!!
For the reasons above, the first half of the book lacks a very compelling conflict to drive the story. Obviously the audience is worried about Bren staying in Canada, but we’re never actually given many reasons to (until the twist that he didn’t fill out his paperwork correctly, which I loved, that was awesome). Morgan has one interesting scene and disappears from the story altogether. Bren’s fears that his participation in the musical will get leaked to Ireland are completely unfounded by the end of the book. It all goes nowhere.
That’s why this is the most distracting problem of Track Two. The others I’ve mentioned have either been limited to a few chapters or to one character specifically, but the fall musical spans chapters 1-30 of 57. As I’ve mentioned, there are a lot of individual chapters in the first half that I loved, but much as I’m loath to admit it, discrete moments do not make up for an otherwise just okay plot.
As I’ve contemplated this book over the past week, I’ve thought a lot about what I disliked and what I think it could’ve done better. If I had to attribute my problems to something specific, I would say that Track Two suffers from a lack of confidence and a tendency to drop plot points. I really did enjoy my time with it, though, and I have a lot of love for the series and characters!
To any eager readers who’ve been put off by what I’ve said, please understand that the problems I’ve pointed out do not negate everything else this book has to offer (the second half is great!) and I would still readily recommend it to fans of Track One.
If the author is reading, I am sincerely looking forward to Track Three, and I have full faith in your ability to make it the best book of the trilogy.
Thank you for sticking around to the end of my review, now go read And Then He Pressed Play: Track Two!
Disclaimer: No AI was used to read for, plan, or write this review. I’m adding this disclaimer because if someone accused me of using an LLM for any part of my very passionate, very personal pedantry, I would have to die.