Adam and Evie (Part 2; ON GALATEA)

3

3

➵

Evie

The chocolate from my candy melted in my mouth as I narrowed my eyes at the living room TV.

"Here to present the next set of awards are two artists who, although at different times but around the same young age, truly entered music with a fire and quickly made sure we knew their names. Between them are nine nominations tonight, two of which are for a record they created together and was the soundtrack to all of our summers. He's a five-time award winner with six nominations tonight, and for the first time on our stage and certainly not the last, she has three nominations, including one for New Artist of the Year, please welcome, Tyler Rush and Evie Chase."

As involuntary chills swept my body, I watched the camera dash away from the host of the night, Gina Fayette, and pan to the splitting screens at the far end of the grand stage of the Calabria Theater. Out of them walked two people, arm in arm, their outfits oh-so-slightly coordinated so that lapels, stitching, and tiny details matched wine red silk and the smallest of glimmering silver stones. If the lens zoomed close enough, the whole world could've probably seen the white of my knuckles as I clutched the envelope containing the winners' names so tightly out of fear that I'd drop it. Or they'd see the indents in Tyler's jacket as I clung onto him for dear life in fear of tripping over myself.

This had been my first award show ever. My first time presenting and speaking in front of so many people. Sure, I'd done interviews before, but in front of an audience much, much smaller that didn't contain some of the biggest names in the industry. Millions on millions lingered live behind the camera via at-home television screens. Any screw ups of mine would be captured in time, no chance for editing, and immortalized forever. Of course, with that in mind, about a half hour before I graced the stage at Tyler's side, I more or less freaked out in my dressing room. It wasn't nearly as bad as I had suffered as of late, but the doubt had really been kicking my ass.

Thankfully, after attempts by my mother and close team members to calm me down weren't so effective, Tyler swooped in, reassuring me in the way that he had when we first performed together. Relaxing me, not completely, but enough to get me to the stage, to the music streaming through my in-ear monitors, and to my inner peace.

Just as Gina had said, although we'd come into the industry at different times, we were both pretty young when the world started to take notice of us. He'd been famous for a good three years before I even came into the picture, and naturally, with Cassidy too caught in her own skyrocketing fame to help me through it, he took the role of my guide. He almost felt like my big brother, which got weird when the world seemed to want something more of us, something more in the lane of romance—and seeing opportunity, our shared management agency wouldn't let us necessarily deny it.

"And why are we watching you at the Awards from last year?"

I sucked in a breath and spun to find a familiar sinewy brunette strolling into the living room with folded arms. I hadn't seen Cassidy much after she'd gotten in from a job in Vancouver late last night, only for a little this morning before she was off to a business meeting.

"I don't know," I said, as she slowly encroached on the couch. "I guess I'm looking for something."

"Something? Like what?" She sat down on the arm rest.

I looked between her and the TV. What was I looking for? An answer? The secret potion behind successfully silencing the shitshow in my head to get up on that stage day in and day out?

I didn't know how to respond, so I settled back into my spot with a repeated, "I don't know."

I caught her expression shift out of the corner of my eye, and when I glanced over, noticed the bemused purse of her lips. Lately, my 'I don't know's and 'I'm fine's were no longer acceptable answers. But I didn't feel like undergoing discount therapy or an interrogation. I'd had a long morning with actual therapy—where I was gradually realizing something I didn't want to—and was tired.