Page 40 of Serenade Me

Chapter Thirteen

Anca

“Anca! Anca! Anca!”

The crowd’s shouting my name so loudly that I can barely make it out.

I’m standing in the wings looking out at the stage and the guys are all holding their hands out to me, waving to me to come join them.

“Come on, let’s make a little more noise for our superstar guest harpist, ANCA!!!!!!!” Jez yells into the microphone!!! “My baby sister, everyone! A fucking prodigy!! And just in case you’re wondering, all you hot guys – no, she’s not fucking available! I see you, I can smell your horny pheromones!!”

The crowd laughs and goes back to chanting my name. Hailey laughs and pushes me on stage and I almost trip on a loose cord. Marius runs over and catches me, takes my hand and pulls me to the front center of the stage. Jez takes my other hand and we all bow in unison.

“Merci, Paris!! À bientôt!” Jez shouts, waving as we file off stage.

I press my hand to my chest, feeling how fast my heart is racing. I feel like it’s like a runaway train about to jump its tracks.

“Oh my god,” I whisper, to no one in particular. Everyone is running around backstage busy with their own jobs. Someone in the crew bumps into me and I crash against the wall.

“Oh my god, Anca, I’m so sorry,” he says before running off, an armful of cables threatening to trip him up

“Oh, it’s okay,” I say, but he’s already gone.

“Are you talking to yourself?” I hear Marius come up behind me and ask.

“No.” I scrunch up my nose. Trust Marius to be the one to catch me looking like I’m talking to myself. Like I haven’t embarrassed myself enough in front of him tonight.

“Then who are you talking to?”

“None of your business.” I glare at him, hoping he’ll drop it.

“Well, is it alright if I interrupt your conversation with none-of-your-business? I have something to ask you.”

“Um, sure.” Shit. Here we go.

“Come in here,” he leads me into an empty dressing room.

I sit down on the couch and wait for him to join me, but he doesn’t.

He stands by the door, shoving his hands in his pockets, one hand pushing back the seat drenched hair on his forehead.

“I don’t know how to say this.”

“Well, that’s a first,” I taunt him.

“Arghh!” He growls. Yup, that’s the sound I was expecting to hear.

“Force of habit, sorry,” I say remembering our pact to be civil. He just waves it away.

“Anca. Um, are you okay? I mean… what happened, on stage, at the start of your set? Does that… does that happen a lot?”

I bite my lip and look up at him. I consider lying, but then I remember the way he’d come to my rescue. The way he’d helped me, instead of yelling at me or making me feel bad that I could’ve ruined his concert, he’d just calmly helped me. He didn’t deserve a lie. In fact, none of them do. I shouldn’t have let it get this far.

“No.”

He frowns a little, but he lets me continue.

“It doesn’t happen a lot because… I don’t let it. I hardly ever perform for that reason. I have pretty bad stage fright.” I guess that’s one way to put it. I’m on stage, and I’m frightened as hell. What other explanation can I give him, without telling him everything?