Adrenaline

48 | grammys pt. iii

        He points at me. You. Holding his hands flat near his chest, perpendicular to the floor, before moving them together. Little. A thumbs up while the other hand grabs it and pulls upward. Shit.

        I laugh.

        "I love you," he finishes. "A. O. T. Y."

        Even if I'm the one that started it, I still hate him for making me cry. "Ugh, stop crying, you loser. Now I'm going to cry and my mascara is going to run."

        The tears keep falling. Like a cold Hawaii winter morning where the remnants of a late-night rainstorm still drip from the roof, and you don't quite want the sun to come up yet. The earth always heals after the heavens cry.

        "Blame you," he signs.

        "Oh, and before I forget—" I repeat the first thing I showed Brendon. Everleigh watches, already laughing after I sign her name. Maverick's sad pout twists into a smile. "Everleigh likes my music better than yours."

        His laugh joins Everleigh's in perfect harmony. He runs his hand under his chin and flicks it out at me instead of flipping me off. Save that for when he (hopefully) has to get my name tattooed on his middle finger.

        "True," she signs, holding her index finger to her lips before pointing at me.

        "You—" Maverick signs his death certificate by holding her in a headlock in the middle of the damn Grammys.

        Brendon gawks, "Is it too late to switch seats?"

        Rami looks up from his phone. "Jenny just texted and said to tell Maverick she's coming over if he doesn't release Everleigh in 3, 2—"

        The wave releases from his shore. "How come it's always me she's watching?"

        "Pretty sure the headlock answers that question."

        Putting a stop to the hurricane that is our friend group, WELCOME TO THE 65TH ANNUAL GRAMMY AWARDS materializes in front of us in gold and white font. Crisp, clean lines. The complete opposite of the static inside my chest.

        The stage ignites to life with flashes of orange, yellow, and pink. Lightning bolts from the ceilings. Fog collects along the ground. Cruella Queen struts onto the stage with enough edge to cut through diamond, though she looks soft enough to convince me angels are real. There's no turning away from this performance.

        After Cruella exits, the host walks onto the stage. It takes a few beats for the applause to die down after her arrival.

        "Hello everyone, and welcome to the 65th Grammy Awards. I'm your host, Jensen Rhodes, here to hopefully keep you from falling asleep or on your face—though I have heard rumors there were a couple of close calls on the carpet earlier." Laughing is unavoidable. Looking back on our stumble is infinitely better than living through it. "You may recognize me from the show Legendary, or the movie Sparks Fly, and you might be wondering what that random Canadian actress is doing hosting the Grammys. Contractually, I can't tell you." The crowd laughs. "Kidding, kidding. I have some musical history. I was in a production of RENT back in Vancouver when I was younger. I played Mimi Marquez, the stripper who we remember for her singing ability, and not her leather pants that each lead and understudy had to be sewn into eight shows a week. I had the time of my life on that stage, really. Some of our best memories in life are tied to the music that brought those memories in the first place.

        "All of our nominees this evening have shown the world their ability to write and produce the world's greatest tracks of the last year. In the building tonight, we have record-breakers returning for awards they missed out on last time they were here, artists with their first nominations, and everyone in between. Tonight's a night of celebration, of amazing music, and of showing our appreciation for the winners and their fellow nominees. A reminder to the winners: we have a time limit for speeches. Thank your parents, your guardians, your managers, your peers, your goldfish. Thank that one boy in sixth grade who broke your heart and became your muse. Anything you want. But let's keep this rolling. The grapevine's told me we have a first-timer who's not so good with time." More laughter. Maverick, you are the moment, whether you want to be or not. Jensen claps her hands together. "Thank you all for being here tonight. I hope you have a great time. We've got a great show ahead."