Page 32 of Our Final Encore

She places her sunglasses on top of her head, and her blue eyes are wide with surprise and adoration. “For real?!” Her perfect smile lights up her face, and my anxiety quickly fades away. I don’t know why I was even nervous.

“Yeah, I told him I would.”

“Oh my gosh!” She grabs my leg. “This is crazy, I’m so happy for you.”

“You’re cool with it?” I glance from the road over to her.

“Of course, this is amazing, Alex.” She sits back in her seat with a smile still plastered to her face. “I told you you’d be the next big thing. Remember when I said that?”

The memory floats through my mind and a smile stretches over my face. “Yeah. So, will you come with me?”

“You want me to come with you? To the bar?”

“Of course, I do. I need you there. You’re my muse, bluebird.”

I glance over at her again and watch as a blush creeps up her cheeks and a smile colors her face. “I’ll come with you.”

TWENTY

Opal

I’ve changed my outfit five times now. Nothing feels right.

I collapse onto my bed with a huff, my hair spread out around me on my comforter. My phone lights up with a text message beside me, and I see that it’s almost three o’clock now. I have twenty minutes to get ready and I still haven’t even started my makeup.

Anxiety churns in my stomach and part of my brain keeps begging me to tell Alex I’m sick. I don’t know whyI’mso nervous when he’s the one performing for a crowd of strangers, but it’s like my gut knows something I don’t. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ll be all alone while he’s on stage. I’ve never liked crowds, but they’re even worse when I’m alone in the middle of one. I should have invited Maisie to come with me.

My phone buzzes repeatedly, I swipe the green call button and hold it up to my ear. “Hello?”

“You ready, babe?” Alex sounds so excited, breathless and happy andalive.That’s how his music makes him feel. So whythe hell do I feel like crawling under this blanket and going to sleep? I’m a terrible girlfriend, I don’t deserve him.

“Yep, almost. Just trying to find an outfit to wear.” I’m lying, I’m nowhere near ready.

“Okay, can I head to your house then?”

More anxiety grips at my throat. This is happening, I have to get up and do this. “Give me another ten minutes then you can head this way.”

He’s quiet on the other end of the line for a minute. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I’ll see you soon.” I end the call and force myself to stand up and look into my closet again. I grab my favorite romper, it’s plain white with thin straps and it flares out at the waist. I pair it with my brown Birkenstocks and a denim jacket.

I swipe some mascara onto my lashes and add a little bronzer to my cheeks. I don’t feel satisfied with my appearance today. For the most part, I’ve grown to accept the way I look, but sometimes insecurities still rear their ugly head. I know there will be other girls there, probably older girls that are in college. It’s silly, but for some reason that makes me extra insecure.

During the three hour drive, Alex talks animatedly about the songs he’s going to play. I can tell he’s so excited, and I’m excited for him. I love seeing him happy. My brain is just broken, I’m convinced.

We’re getting closer to Austin now, the GPS shows that we only have thirty minutes left of our drive. The countryside is gorgeous, different from what I’m used to seeing in north Texas. There are grassy hills and big oak trees. As we enter the city, we pass by tall skyscrapers and beautiful historical buildings.

“Are you nervous at all?” I ask.

“Not really.”

“That’s pretty amazing, I know I would be.”

He shrugs. “I mean, I want to do well. But if I fuck up, it’s not the end of the world. All I can do is try my best. He hired me, so he must be confident that I’m good enough.”

I’ve always admired the way he views things. I’m a bit of a perfectionist, sometimes I feel like there’s no point in doing something if it isn’t flawless, but I know that mentality holds me back. I want to pursue my writing for real, but I’m terrified of rejection. Of being laughed at. So I continue to keep it locked away in a journal that no one will ever see.

Maybe that’s why I feel so weird today. Maybe part of me wishes that I could have something the way that Alex has his music. Something that’s mine, but that I can also share with the world.

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