“Say what?”
“What surprised you,” she says. “Not the polished version. The real one.”
I stare at the water bottle in my hands, at the way the label’s starting to peel from where I’ve been twisting it.
“He didn’t rush,” I say finally. “He wasn’t trying to win. He wasn’t trying to get chosen. He just… showed up.”
Nancy nods slowly. “That’ll do it.”
“I don’t like that it did,” I add.
Paige smiles, almost fond. “Of course you don’t.”
My phone buzzes again.
This time it’s not PR.
It’s Raina.
RAINA:I just saw the clips. You look unreal. Also… is it bad that I’m excited about this?
Something warm and sharp cuts through me, sudden and inconvenient.
ME:It’s not bad. It’s good exposure.
I hesitate, thumb hovering over the screen.
RAINA:He seemed… solid.
I swallow.
ME:He was respectful.
That feels like the safest word I have.
Paige leans over my shoulder anyway. “She likes him.”
“It’s not about him,” I say automatically. “This helps the album.”
Nancy’s mouth curves. “It can be two things.”
“I don’t need it to be two things,” I say.
“Maybe,” Nancy says gently, “you don’t get to decide that part.”
The arena noise is louder now, like the night’s only just getting started for everyone else.
Eventually, we leave. Back through hallways that feel less electric now. Out into the cool air where the nervous energy finally has somewhere to go.
In the car, I kick off my heels and rest my head against the seat, phone glowing in my hand. Thank goodness Paige is driving.
Notifications keep coming.
Tags. Messages. Speculation.
Somewhere in the middle of it all is the quiet memory of his voice.
Not loud.
