Shane consoled himself by taking deep breaths, bouncing on the balls of his feet as the oxygen brought flush to his cheeks. Backstage everything was fine. The lights so dark that no one could see his face. There was no one around but the crewmen to see if anything went wrong.
He wasn't nervous.
He'd done this a million times.
He wasn't nervous.
His unforgiving grip on the microphone told him otherwise.
He wasn't nervous.
He'd never been this nervous before.
Not since his first performance.
He wasn't nervous.
Then why was there a twisting feeling in his gut?
He wasn't nervous.
In the corner of his eye, he saw his phone screen light up on the small coffee table that it was laid on. He heard the vibrate of the contraption, telling him that he had a phone call. Someone was trying to get a hold of him. From the number of times the phone vibrated it almost made him wonder how seriously this person needed to speak to him.
He wasn't nervous.
They could wait.
No.
Wait.
He was nervous.
They couldn't wait.
He was nervous
He walked away from the stage.
And accepted the phone-call.