I dipped my head, letting my hair form a curtain between us, and stared down at my hands. The black polish I’d applied this morning was already starting to chip, and there was an angry red sore on my thumb where I’d ripped away a hangnail.
“Hey,” he said gently.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for the pep talk. I really needed it.”
“At least something good came out of my utter humiliation,” I muttered.
“Humiliation? What are you talking about?”
I jerked my head up to look at him. Was he being polite, or did he really not realize how stalker-level creepy I felt after confessing I’d read fan fiction about him? My gaze swept over his face, but I didn’t detect a single ounce of dishonesty. He seemed genuinely confused.
“I’m embarrassed because of the story,” I clarified, but the deep furrow in his brow refused to lessen. “The fanfic,Rhythm of Your Heart?”
“Why? It’s not like you wrote it.” As soon as the words left his mouth, his posture went rigid, like someone had jammed a metal rod down his spine. “Unless…you did?”
“God, no!” My nose wrinkled at the thought. I sucked at writing. Besides, if JonesFervor15 really was my secret online persona, I’d never have the guts to share any of this with him. “Not that there’s anything wrong with writing fan fiction. I think it’s awesome your fans love you so much. How many people can say they inspire thousands of others to be creative?”
“I guess that’s cool and all,” he said, shoulders slumping, “but it’s things like this that make me feel ungrateful and guilty in the first place.”
Great, we were back to this again? “Why?”
“Because there’s a story written about me that has millions of reads, and here I am complaining about not being the most popular guy in the band? How self-absorbed does that make me?”
I almost laughed. “Xander, it makes you completely normal. Everyone has narcissistic moments. Stop beating yourself up over a fleeting feeling that we all experience at least once in our lives.”
“But what if it’s not fleeting?” he responded. “What if it’s turning me into someone I’m not? Nobody has pinpointed the problem quite like you have, but my friends aren’t blind. They sense something is off.”
All of a sudden, I was back at Zap Zone hearing JJ’s voice:I don’t know what’s been bothering you lately, but whatever it is has you on edge…
“Have you tried telling them you’re upset?” I asked.
He crossed his arms. “There’s no way I’m talking to the guys about this. Either they won’t understand, or they’ll give me so much shit, my ears will bleed. Besides, what am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, guys, can you stop being yourselves so people will notice me?’” He scoffed, dismissing the notion with the wave of his hand. “They shouldn’t have to act any differently to make me feel better. That’s not fair.”
“All right, then maybeyouneed to do something about it. Find a way to prove to yourself that you’re not the ‘forgettable fringe member,’” I said, air quoting his earlier phrase.
“Like what?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure.” I pulled my hair over my shoulder and twisted it into a knot as I considered Xander’s dilemma. I racked my brain for a solid minute before an idea came to me. What was it Sofia had said? When one of her designs wasn’t working, she found the best way to get past her block was by focusing on something completely different. Xander’s problem was vastlydifferent from Sofia’s, but that didn’t mean her technique couldn’t be applied to his situation. To get out of his funk, maybe all Xander needed to do was to focus on something that excited him. “Have you ever tried writing your own music?”
He shrugged. “A few songs here and there, but nothing for the band.”
“Country, right?” I asked, and he nodded. “Well, maybe you should release one.”
“I don’t know, Indie,” he said, wringing his hands together. “If I put out a single, people will get the wrong idea. A year ago, there was this major rumor that the band was breaking up. It caused a lot of tension. The last thing I want is for our fans to think I’m quitting and cause drama again.”
“But if you have no intention of leaving, then who cares? Why not explain the song as a side project you’re passionate about. This could be your chance to show the world what you have to offer as an individual.”
His brows knit together in indecision. “I suppose, but—”
Before he could talk himself out of what I thought was a brilliant idea, I interrupted. “I understand how terrifying it can be to take a chance, but you just need to ask yourself if the happiness you stand to gain is worth the risk.” As I said this, a new thought popped into my head. “Besides,” I added, “we both know someone who could help you.”
“Who?” he asked.
I made a face at him. “You’re joking, right? One of your best friends runs his own label.”
“Alec?”
