“Sounds like a plan,” I reply, grabbing my books and returning his smile. As I leave the library, I feel a lightening of the anxiety that plagued me since the moment I left home. Instead, I’m filled with anticipation of running into Axel again.
Chapter Five
Axel
Themurmurofconversationon the other side of the grey door has my heart pounding. The meet-and-greet event is about to begin, and I can already feel the anxiety creeping up. I try to focus on my breathing—in through the mouth, out through the nose—but it does little to quell my nerves.
“All right, Zelman,” Wren, the Cruise Director, says as they approach me with an enthusiastic smile. Five-foot five, with flowing long hair, and red fingernails to match, they’re a bundle of energy. “You’ve certainly got some fans, don’t you? They’re in for a treat with the performance tomorrow and then the big concert in the auditorium theatre later in the cruise.”
“Y-yeah,” I stammer. My hands are clammy, and I’m sure my face must betray my unease. I take a deep breath and plaster on a smile. “I’m looking forward to it.” It’s only partly a lie. I love performing, getting lost in the music. It’s just the enthusiasm and number of fans that sets me on edge, and events like these with so many people.
“Fantastic!” Wren says. “I just know everyone will love having you here.” Their energy is electric, their colourful outfit only adding to their vibrant presence.
If only some of that confidence would rub off on me. “Yeah, I hope so.”
“Ready?” Wren asks.
I nod, swallowing hard. As they lead me out of the side room and into the bustling Continental Drift bar, I muster a smile, trying to hide my anxiety from those around me. I know I look good—the tight black jeans, black T-shirt, and heavy boots, my hair out to my shoulders, and my smudged dark-lined eyes—a look that’s become my uniform.
The atmosphere in the bar is a stark contrast to my own mood. People are in high spirits, laughing and clinking glasses together. If I wasn’t about to be the centre of attention, maybe I’d be able to join in and enjoy myself too. But as it is, I feel the weight of their gazes upon me, inspecting every inch of me like I’m under a microscope. My fingers unconsciously move to the leather straps at my wrist, toying with the beads.
“Welcome, Zelman!” Wren announces into a microphone, drawing even more eyes towards me.
I’ve come to hate the stage name. It means it’s showtime, time for me to perform for the masses. I like it when I’m plain Axel, not Zelman the rock singer, although Rick thinks it’s awesome that I’ve made it to one-name status. Speaking of Rick, I wish he was here. He’d give me something to focus on. He’d make me laugh and cut through the tension, but he’s hundreds of miles away dealing with his own demons.
I grab the drink being offered to me, hoping it will numb the gnawing tension in my chest. I grip the cocktail like a lifeline.
“Thanks,” I say, forcing a grin when they shove the microphone into my face. “It’s great to be here. Who’s enjoying the cruise so far?”
I use my best stage voice and a cheer goes up.
“You’ll all get a chance to meet with Zelman tonight and see him perform later in the cruise,” Wren says to another cheer. “So have a great time tonight and don’t forget the Pool Party tomorrow.”
The crowd obviously love the idea of the pool party given their enthusiastic response.
Wren turns to me. “I’ll leave you to mingle. I won’t be going far and I’ll check on you later. Enjoy meeting your fans.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I reply, trying to sound upbeat. But as I stand there, surrounded by people who expect so much from me, I know there’s no way I’ll be having a good time—most likely the complete opposite. I glance around and see Brian leaning on the far wall. He offers me a curt nod. I nod back. I take a deep breath as the first fan approaches, smiling hesitantly.
“Hi, I’m Sophie. Would you mind signing my T-shirt?” she asks.
“Sure thing,” I reply, trying to sound friendly even though my heart is pounding. As I sign, more fans gather around, each one waiting for their turn to talk with me.
“Can I get a picture with you?” another fan asks, holding up their phone.
I nod, forcing a smile as we pose together. A camera flash makes me blink, and I feel a sudden surge of disorientation. I sip the fruity cocktail in my hand, wishing it was whiskey.
More fans. More signing. What feels like a hundred selfies.
“Thanks so much, Zelman,” a guy says, “I love your music.”
His words seem distant, like I’m hearing them through a thick fog. My mind races, and I struggle to stay present in the moment.
“I saw your concert last week. It was amazing!” someone else says as they push in next to me.
“Thanks,” I manage to say.
I’m jostled and my drink spills over my hand. It’s getting harder and harder to focus on the individual fans in front of me. Their voices blur together, and I find myself nodding and smiling on autopilot.
