I’m not ready to not have this.
Backstage is a whirlwind of activity. The air feels syrupy, thick with hair spray and perfumes, black coffee wafting from the break room. Everyone’s thrumming with energy, focused on their routines and choreography.
I’m in a corner by myself, away from the chaos, replaying lines in my head. The stage manager is on his game, checking cues and tweaking the lighting, while Mr. Hamlin buzzes around like a drunk bumblebee. He lives for this shit, and I realize I’m going to miss him when all this is over. Mr. Hamlin has real passion. Heart. It’s a rare thing.
One of the parent volunteers pops over to me, double-checking my costume as she gives me an appreciative once-over. “You look fantastic, Lexington.” Her gaze sparks with heated interest before she sends me a wink. “You wear that costume so well.”
My costume is embracing the bohemian flair: a deep velvet jacket that, when it catches the light, shimmers midnight blue or maybe royal purple, contrasting a white shirt underneath, ruffled at the collar. My hair is tousled and unkempt, my trousers sleek and black, and my cravat a rich burgundy color.
But something in her tone has me thinking she’s less enthused about the costume and more focused on the body wearing it.
“Thanks,” I mutter dismissively.
I’m used to being objectified; it’s why I’ve never dated, never cared about sex, never craved physical touch. It’s all meaningless. When women look at me, they don’t ever reallyseeme—not the shit that matters anyway. It’s just giggles and flushed cheeks and backhanded comments that teeter on the line of sexual harassment.
No one cares about my personality, about what makes me tick and cry and bleed and laugh.
Not until…
“Lex.”
Stevie’s voice punctures my dark cloud. When I lift my head and find her sashaying toward me from the dressing room like some kind of otherworldly being, I swear time stops, and the cloud isn’t just severed—it’s obliterated. I drink in the beaming smile on her face, the way her hair glints under the backstage lights, the silky indigo dress painted on her like she was carved from a blue moon.
I blink at her as she approaches, straightening against the far wall. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“Um…” Words stutter around my brain, but I can’t settle on the right ones. She looks like magic. “Hey.”
She breathes out a laugh. “I see you’ve memorized your lines well.”
Swallowing, I shake off the ridiculous trance and force my eyes over her shoulder. “How are you feeling about tonight?”
Flattening her palms at her hips, she slides them down her thighs, smoothing out the wrinkle-less dress as she moves in closer. “I’m nervous.”
“You don’t have a reason to be. You’ve nailed every rehearsal.”
“It’s different tonight. The audience, the expectation. My whole family is out there watching.” She sighs, her breath shaking in time with my jittery hands. “It’s just…different.”
“You’re living your dream right now,” I tell her, popping my shoulders. “Enjoy it. Embrace it.”
She sends me a curious nod. “Is this your dream, Lex? Acting?”
I know she’s thinking about all the shit I spouted off a few weeks ago, about the cesspit that is Hollywood. And I don’t know how to answer the question.My dreams feel muddled. Murky. Twisted into knots I can’t untangle. “I don’t really know anymore.”
Sadness darkens her eyes as she studies me. But she blinks it away quickly, reaching into a little satchel draped over her shoulder. “Here. I brought you something.”
I frown. “You did?”
“Yeah…it’s silly, I know. But it’s sort of my good-luck charm.” Her hand disappears inside the purse, then reemerges with a small pendant tucked between her thumb and finger. It’s shaped like a star, enameled in a swirl of greens and blues. “Put it in your pocket.”
My hand extends in slow motion, and she places it in my palm. “Why are you giving it to me if it’s your good-luck charm?”
She shrugs, her cheeks flushing with color. “I wasn’t sure if you would have any family out there watching you today. I was thinking this could be a reminder that you’re not alone.”
My gaze locks on the turquoise star before swinging back up to her face. A swell of emotion splashes across my chest, liquifying every dark, wretched feeling lurking inside my heart. I curl my hand around the pendant. “Thanks, Nicks.”
“Sure. Of course.” She hesitates then, trailing her eyes over me, from toes to top. “You look…”
