Sinsation (Book Two)

62

The chaotic energy of the crowd is felt backstage, where we retire. The muffled cheering is empowering. It's not exactly quiet, but the noise is distant enough for chitchat. President Belle mingles with my parents, Lil, and Jess. The sight of them conversing so casually with the most powerful man in the country is mind boggling. My parents are starstruck but hold it together. Lil, on the other hand, allows her admiration to show. Jess is busy chatting with Velma, who speaks a mile a minute, it's the most indulged I've ever seen her. It must be about her clothing line.

Jace and I are in our own bubble, his attention on me, his sage eyes eager. "You did better."

"It didn't feel like it. I was terrified."

Jace chuckles softly, his hand gently squeezing mine. "That's what I love about you. You don't crave the spotlight."

I've spent so long criticizing myself—my fear of being on stage, my nervousness, the way I stumbled over words when all eyes were on me. But hearing Jace say he loves it...makes me stronger. Maybe...just maybe, I'm not as much of a mess as I think I am. "You always know what to say. Even when I'm a wreck?" I grin.

"No, you're perfect, my little sour patch."

My heart swells. Before I can respond, President Belle starts our way, his secret agents flanking him like shadows. They're all dressed in black suits, wrap around earpieces, sunglasses, even though we're indoors. Jace steps forward to meet the president, his posture relaxed. "Well, Harrison, you're in my debts. If you ever require endorsing for office campaign, give me a call."

"Thank you, Mr. President, but that's not my path." Jace responds politely, but firm.

President Belle is adamant. "If you ever change your mind, reach out, you have my number."

With that, the president and his agents hike to the private exit, leaving a sense of quiet in their wake. I watch them go, still processing what I just heard. Does he mean he'll back Jace if he runs for president?? Once they're gone, I turn to Jace, curiosity getting the better of me. "Why wouldn't you want to be president? You'd be great."

"There are many reasons. The most critical is war, losing sleep over troops dying on your order. You're expected to find solutions to nationwide crises with no cure. It's not just about throwing money around; the role requires systemic changes within our government that will never take effect."

He's right—being president might be stressful, it's a life of constant sacrifice. I can't help but feel relieved that Jace doesn't want it. He'll go gray prematurely. "That makes sense," I say softly, leaning into him. "I'm glad you know what you want."

Jace wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. "Yes, I do." He gets all sweet on me.

The rest of the week is a rollercoaster of shows from the EXPO. I can hardly keep up. Every day is a time traveling event.

Day 1: Is the reveal of a quantum-computing wristwatch projects a holographic interface. A computer, phone, and assistant right there on your wrist, without even needing to touch it. I watch as Jace interacts with the hovering screen, his eyes scrolling and blinking to select, play and pause media. The viewers geeks out when he answers a video call and the caller's face appears, floating above his arm in perfect clarity.

Day 2: Jace unveils a personal trainer drone the size of an AirPod case. It mimics inspirational speeches while correcting the posture, pressure, and repetition tailored to the person's injury or weight class. The arena goes nuts for it. I can already see the headlines: "The End of trainers?"

Day 3: Jace uncovers self-healing materials. A sports car drives onto the stage. Revving to build tension before zipping across the glossy floor into a long metal pole. I cringe with the crowd from watching the collision in real time. Within seconds, the metal body of the vehicle repairs itself, the damage vanishing before our eyes like magical glue. The material's molecular structure responds to damage by generating new molecules to replace the old ones.