Page 48 of When the Stars Rise
I look right at him when I say it. He’s standing before me with his pouty lips and messy, dirty-blond hair, wearing a gray marled hoodie and ripped black jeans.
He looks so heartbreakingly beautiful and all I want to do is run my fingers through his hair and kiss his lips and forget the world.
“He’s everything that’s great and good and beautiful in my life,” I say, holding his gaze when I speak. “He is the inspiration for almost every song I write. He is reckless and wild. He is generous and kind with a beautiful soul. He can also be selfishand is the most stubborn boy I’ve ever known. He has a heart bigger than Texas, and he drives me crazy sometimes, he really does. But I haveneverloved anyone or anything the way I love him. And if I ever lost him, the world would stop spinning…”
I bite my lip and look down at my clasped hands before looking him in the eye and telling him what I believe to be true. “And there would be no more music.”
Noah turns off the video camera and sets it on the sofa before crossing the room in two long strides. He takes my hands in his and pulls me out of my seat and into his arms, holding me close like I’m something precious to him and he never wants to let me go. “You’re not going to lose me.”
We both know he can’t make that kind of promise but for just a moment I let myself believe that it’s true, and I hold on tight and breathe him in, not letting go until there’s a knock on the door.
Dean pops his head in. “Let’s go, sweetheart. It’s show time.”
And just like that, the world intrudes, and my palms get sweaty, my stomach churning like it always does before a performance.
When Dean retreats to the hallway, I slip into the nude shorts with shaky hands and pull my dress down, checking all angles in the mirror to make sure there are no wardrobe malfunctions.
“All good,” Noah says, running his hands down my sides which is most likely an excuse to touch me. But it hits me that I was too busy answering his questions for the performance anxiety to set in.
He squeezes my hands to reassure me. “You’ve got this,” he says with a smile that would make me believe anything he says. “Go out there and do what you do best.Shine.”
I swallow hard and nod as I slip in my in-ear monitors.
Then I square my shoulders and walk out the door, down the long tunnel past all the security guards in the bowels of thearena. The closer I get to the stage, the louder it gets, and those butterflies assault my stomach, but I remind myself that being nervous produces the same physical response as being excited.
I take deep breaths and roll out my shoulders, jogging in place like a boxer about to enter the ring for the fight of their life.
This part is always the worst. Those last few moments before you take the stage. So I repeat my mantra in my head to psyche myself up.
I am here for a reason. I am enough. I will give the best performance I can, and if something goes wrong, I am resilient enough to handle it with grace. I’ve got this.
Mic in hand, the platform rises until I’m standing in the center of the stage under a sky full of golden stars, singing the first song of tonight’s set.
Nothing is more intoxicating, exhilarating, or humbling than performing in front of twenty-five thousand people at Madison Square Garden.
Sometimes, I still can’t believe this is my life.
It’s not all sunshine and roses. There are plenty of things I hate about being famous. The paparazzi. That incident in London. The lack of privacy. But whenever I’m performing or writing music, I’m reminded of why I do this.
I haven’t found a cure for cancer. I can’t stop global warming. I can’t put an end to hunger, poverty, or wars.
But I can provide entertainment, and with any luck, the audience will be able to put their problems aside for the next two hours and just have some fun.
In a world where everything we see and read in the news is so bleak, that’s not nothing.
Music is life.
It’s my hope and my reason.
It’s everything.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Noah
“I wrotethis song for a very good friend,” Hayley says as a hush falls over the audience.
They know what’s coming. They’re anticipating the song, phones held aloft, the entire stadium lit up by phone flashlights.
