"I don’t know if I’m cut out for this lifestyle. I’d rather upload videos on YouTube and stay safely behind a screen," he mutters, turning his eyes toward his guitar leaning against the wall.
A loud knock hits the door.
"Hey hurry up, we’re on in five," Malik calls, the drummer in Bay’s band.
"We’re coming," Bay calls back.
Then he looks at me and says, "I really don’t want to go out there, Alex. What if I screw up? What if they boo me…"
"Have they ever booed you? Have you ever screwed up?" I grab his hands and squeeze them tight, trying to lock down his attention.
His eyes flick nervously around the walls.
"A hundred thousand people, Alex…"
"Your last video hit a hundred and twenty thousand views. Just imagine it’s the same thing," I say, tilting my head a little and shaking his hands, tapping them, lifting them lightly to loosen him up.
Bay snorts a laugh.
He looks at me for a moment, then says,
"Thanks, Alex. Without you I probably would’ve fallen apart a thousand times by now."
"Hey," I purse my lips playfully, "that’s what husbands are for," and I wink at him.
His eyes spark. He lifts his hands and cups my face gently.
He leans in, and his lips brush mine.
"I love you."
"And I love you."
Another round of knocking rattles the door.
"Bay?"
This time it’s Eric.
Bay stands, goes to the door, and opens it.
"Ready?"
Bay nods.
He gives me one last look, and I purse my lips and send him a kiss through the air. He smirks, grabs his guitar, and heads out.
I hold up both fists with my thumbs tucked inside.
"I believe in you!"
He disappears beyond the doorway.
I head toward the side box, the small area where the performers’ families can watch the show.
Lake and Aiden are already there, having come to see their son perform at such a big concert.
Space is tight, but we squeeze together on a single bench.
