Page 17 of The Spotlight Effect

We spend the rest of the time eating and walking around before we have to take our seats for the pre-show, which I am very excited for.

As they set up the stage, I look around and see Charlie walking over to me. “Hey, Lexi, are you ready for the concert?” Charlie asks.

“Of course,” I reply.

“Do me a favor and look right at Gray when the concert starts,” Charlie says, then winks at me before standing up and running off.

Look at Grayson?

Why would I need to look at Grayson?

Now I’m super nervous. I remember seeing Grayson earlier for the first time. I’ve never been a person to fangirl over a guy because of looks, but he’s even better looking in person. I was literally speechless. Especially when he had to hand me my VIP pass, his hand touched mine for a brief moment. I wouldn’t say it was a fireworks moment, but I was a bit flustered. He’s the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen.

The Chosen Ones do about five songs for the pre-show before The MorningStars are lowered onto the stage from platforms in the ceiling. As they are lowered, strobe lights flash over the stage, and their band logo appears. My heart beats faster as excitement fills me. Grayson strums his guitar hard causing it to resonate through the room.

Each of them steps off the platform, singing their part of the song. I feel completely happy watching this show. This was worth the trip; I’m going to lose my voice by morning with all the singing and screaming I’m doing.

They perform a few new songs which are of course just as amazing as the others. Pure joy is all I can say I felt hearing the music in my ears and the liveliness wave through my body. I’m a part of a group that gets it. The concert goes until about ten-thirty and when they get ready to close out, they shoot out T-shirts and hoodies for the crowd to catch. This is the career I yearn to have one day.

When the silver and red confetti rain down on us along with the water on the stage, the show is officially over. My ears are still thumping from hearing the music and I don’t quite think I’m over the high of hearing my favorite band. The stops aregreat but it’s not great when you’re front row and a lot of confetti gets stuck in your hair.

Once the performance is over and the band has exited the stage everyone starts to leave while the VIPs are ushered to the back. “Welcome, I am Bridgett and this is Katie. Anyone who has a general VIP badge, please go with Katie and if you have an exclusive VIP, please stay with me,” Bridgett instructs as I continue to find silver confetti strips in my hair. I mindlessly follow the group as I pick the pieces out of my head then I bump into someone.

“I am so sorry,” I say.

“It’s okay. Are you okay?” the girl asks. I look to find a girl a little bit shorter than me who has brown shoulder-length curls with bangs and hazel eyes.

“I'm okay, just confetti is in my hair,” I tell her.

“Here, let me help you. I'm Zara, by the way,” the girl says. I know her; she's the person that people are saying Shawn Reid is dating. She’s his supposed best friend; they are together all the time by their posts, and they go out like every Wednesday, I think. It’s adorable.

Then someone bumps into me and cold sludge falls down my back. “Shit, Alexia, I’m so sorry,” I hear Astrid say behind me.

“You can’t stop in the way,” Lia says. I feel the liquid continue its way down my body.

“You have slushie in your hair,” Zara tells me.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“We have to go, they are leaving,” Lia says as she and Astrid leave.

They didnotjust leave me here.

“I can help you if you like,” Zara offers.

“That’s really kind of you, thank you,” I tell her, considering the two dickheads who wasted the slushie on me ran away.

I follow Zara to the bathroom, where we spend time picking the silver confetti out of my hair and washing out the slushie before fixing my hair.

I change into the new band T-shirt I bought and try to scrub off the stickiness with some water and a paper towel. “I really appreciate you helping me,” I tell Zara as she tries to dry my hair with a paper towel.

“It’s no trouble,” she says in almost a whisper. After literally bumping into each other, she's been pretty quiet. She doesn’t talk much, and she seems very nervous-like.

Her phone rings again for the fifth time in the last five minutes. I wonder who is calling her so much. “Is everything okay?” I ask.

“I’m not sure.” She stops trying to soak water out of my hair and grabs her phone from her pocket.

“Oh no.”

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