AllFreeNovel
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People like us thrive in our own company, and it takes a special kind of person for us to bring into our safe space.
Aside from my mom, the only people I’ve let into mine are Lottie and her family.
Everyone else I keep at arm’s length.
Even my clients.
It’s safer that way.
No risk of disappointment. Or heartbreak.
I’ve learned early on that a blow to the heart can cripple a soul.
But if you keep people at bay and never truly let them in, then you’ll never get disappointed.
Or worse—hurt.
Yes, it might be a cynical mentality, but it’s kept me whole.
Or as whole as I’ll ever be.
Not wanting to go there, I try to focus on the melody playing, only to be poorly rewarded with a song of pain and suffering. As Hozier sings about heartbreak and love lost, my chest tightens, unable to stop myself from remembering the one person who taught me what true misery feels like.
“Excuse me. Are you Miss Lee? Miss Piper Lee?” A girl with heart-shaped and red-framed glasses asks after tapping my shoulder.
“Can I help you?” I ask, grateful for the distraction.
“I’ve been asked to give you this,” she says, handing me a badge of sorts. “It’s a backstage pass.”
I look at the badge for a split second before taking it from her hands.
“Did I win something? I don’t remember entering any competition for backstage passes.”
“No.” She smiles, shaking her head. “One of our VIP guests asked me to give you this. They’re waiting for me to take you to them.”
“Is that so?” I mumble, brows furrowing at who this VIP guest could be.
“He says he’s a friend from work.”
“And did this friend give you a name?” I ask skeptically.
“I think he said his name was Nick,” she replies, distracted, looking every which way. “Sorry to hurry you, Miss Lee, but I can’t take too long to get an answer. I’m really needed backstage. Would you like to come back with me, or should I tell your friend that you’re fine enjoying the concert from right here?”
I bite my lower lip, thinking if I should take this so-called friend’s gracious gift or turn it down and stay exactly where I am.
Though the gift is a welcomed surprise since I’ve been standing out like a sore thumb in this crowd, I’m a little apprehensive about accepting it when I have no idea who it’s from. It’s curiosity, more than anything else—of who this Nick could possibly be—that has me nodding in acceptance and following the girl through the hordes of loving couples backstage.
Nick.
Nick.
Who do I know that is named Nick?
In my line of business, it’s perfectly normal for me to meet loads of new people daily, but I pride myself in remembering all their names and faces should our paths cross again.
But for the life of me, I can’t remember meeting any Nick.
Still, passing up a chance to see one of my favorite singers perform backstage seems like a waste.
