White knuckles clutching a red basket.
Teddy with a hint of stubble in a suit.
Whiskey and laughter and piggyback rides.
Hotel bars and hasty truths.
Waking up in white sheets and an empty bed.
I pour all those emotions into my performance—the happiness and the sadness and the confusion and the certainty—and I can feel them flying out of me.
There’s a shift. In me, in the crowd. Where this becomes less of a prepared performance and more of a raw exposure.
I’m bleeding across the stage. My voice cracks and wobbles. I’m singing this song the way it’s meant to be sung. Each time I perform, I live the story the lyrics tell. I become the cheater. The cheated on. The villain. The heroine. The victor. The loser.
When I perform “Heartbreak for Two,” I’m Sutton. Not the confident, assured version used to attention and prepared for the glare of the spotlight. I’m the vulnerable version, scared to ever admit how she really felt about the boy next door. I ran scared, using Ellie’s bitterness as an excuse.
The final note lingers and fades.
Applause explodes.
I wave at the crowd, then turn to walk off the stage. I have to pass him on the way to the wings. And I shouldn’t stop. I should keep walking. But for some reason, my legs won’t cooperate.
When I should keep walking, I pause. I’m no longer facing the audience. All that’s in front of me is…him.
I stare at Teddy, and he stares back, and I’ve never wanted to know what someone else is thinking more than I do in this exact moment. I’m sick of walking away from the moments that matter. So, I stay motionless with thousands of strangers behind me, looking at the one person who’s never felt like one.
Having my dad attend a show didn’t feel like this. It’s more than a collision of past and present. I know it’s not just because my father wasn’t up onstage with me.
I don’t believe in soul mates or fated love. To me, it seems like more of a depressing thought than a romantic one.
What if your soul mate dies in a plane crash? What if the person you’re fated to meet on your morning commute oversleeps? Do you never find happiness because of a mechanical issue or a faulty clock?
But I do believe you can have a special connection with someone you’ll never experience with anyone else. That you can meet someone and immediately feel like you’ve known them your whole life.
I didn’t use to believe that either.
Until I met Teddy.
I should smile. Shrug.Something. My body won’t cooperate. All it wants to do is soak Teddy’s presence in.
So, I do. Until I don’t dare to anymore. Until I turn and walk the rest of the way offstage.
Offstage, I head straight to my dressing room. I tug off the tight spandex between labored breaths, pulling on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top before using a few wipes to remove the makeup on my face.
There’s another club opening tonight. Kyle mentioned going since I wasn’t feeling well last night. But it’s the last thing I feel like going to right now.
I need a game plan.
I need to figure out how I’m going to act around Teddy—and stick to it.
A knock sounds on the door.
“It’s open!” I call out. Involuntarily, I’m smoothing my hair back. When the door opens to reveal Suzan, I let my hand fall. “Oh. Hi.”
She raises one eyebrow. “Not who you were hoping for?”
I don’t answer.