More than I’ve wanted anything in a long time.
But I’m terrified. There’s no other word for it. Somehow, over the course of our messaging, Nick has become important to me. He’s been there to joke around with and also there to turn to when I wanted a deeper conversation. He’s become a support system outside of my career, outside the fame machine.
He’s also the only person in my life who actively disagrees with me. He mocks my opinions and tells me when he thinks I’m wrong. He treats our conversations like I’m just some guy he met online, not someone whose feelings need to be managed.
I didn’t realize how much I missed that. Being surrounded by people who agree with everything you say sounds like a dream until you’re living it. Until you realize you have no idea what anyone actually thinks anymore. Nick tells me what he really thinks.
Over the past month, Nick has become this continuous presence in my head—like a conversation that never quite ends or a song I can’t stop humming.
I’ll see something funny and thinkNick would love this. I’ll have a random thought and immediately want to share it with him. I’ll be in the middle of a band meeting and catch myself smiling because I remembered something he said two days ago.
I’ve dated people before, but I’ve never had someone take up this much space in my brain. He’s not performing for me. He’s not trying to impress Anthony Devine. He’s just Nick—funny and weird and surprisingly insightful and completely unaware of how rare that combination is.
Will meeting up in person spoil that? I mean, he doesn’t even believe I’m actually Anthony Devine. He thinks that’s a joke between us. What is he going to say when he realizes I’ve been telling the truth this whole time? Will he think I’ve been mocking him? Playing some cruel celebrity game at his expense?
I sink into one of the leather chairs in the private lounge and bring up the spoof video of Nick yet again, pressing Play. Video Nick grins at me as he shows me his fig tree.
“This is my fiddle-leaf fig tree. I named him Figgy Smalls. He’s the closest thing I have to a pet because, let’s face it, I can barely keep myself alive, let alone another living creature.”
I stare at the video, at Nick’s cute grin.
I want to touch those dimples. Trace the lines they cut into his cheeks when he laughs. I want to kiss that smile.
What if he’s disappointed when he realizes I’m just…me? Not the fantasy version of Anthony Devine that exists in magazines and music videos, but the real me who wears the same hoodie for three days straight and forgets to reply to texts from actual friends and writes songs in the shower?
But then I think about our conversations. About how our sense of humor aligns so well. About how he understood what I meant about different cages before I’d even fully formed the thought myself.
That connection? That’s real. That exists whether I’m Anthony Devine the pop star or just AntD.
I watch him tour his tiny apartment one more time—every familiar frame, every joke I’ve memorized—and I know what I have to do.
AntD
Yeah, okay. I’m down to meet up.
As soon as I press send, my nerves start to spiral into what can only be described as a full-body panic response. My palms are sweating, my heart is racing, and I’m pretty sure I’m about to have an anxiety attack.
My phone buzzes again.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Are you going to Anthony Devine’s concert at Madison Square Garden next Friday? I got free tickets from a radio station after my spoof video went viral, so for once, I don’t have to sell a kidney to attend.
I laugh out loud. My bodyguard definitely thinks I’ve lost it now. Of course Nick’s going to the concert. Of course that’s where he wants to meet.
AntD
Yes, I’m definitely going to the concert. I’m performing at it.
NickKnackPaddyWhack
Do you want to meet up afterward?
My heart starts thumping so hard I can feel it in my throat.
This is really happening. In a week, Nick is going to find out I’ve been telling the truth this whole time. He’s going to see me on stage, and then he’s going to meet me. And everything—everything—is going to change.
AntD
