Cross My Heart

Chapter One

Music plays in the background as I weave through the rows and people, finding my assigned seat. The music is probably playing much louder than I can hear, but the large crowd of guests, all chatting, drowns it out. I shift in my seat and start bouncing slightly in anticipation. The show will be starting soon, and Ellen will be making her appearance.

            As famous and impressive as Ellen is, she's not the one I'm the most excited to be seeing. The real event for me is her guest: 28-year-old Daniel Campbell Smith, otherwise known as Dan Smith, lead singer and songwriter of the band, Bastille.

            I still can't believe I'd gotten tickets to the show, let alone this show. Destiny is in my favor these days, it seems. Dan Smith has been my idol, my role-model, the one thing on my mind, ever since I heard his band's song, Pompeii, on the radio all those months ago. I immediately decided to find out more about this amazing band, and discovered Dan Smith, Kyle Simmons, Chris "Woody" Wood, and Will Farquarson. When I finally held their album in my hands, my world had never seemed so perfect.

            And yet here I sit, about to see this man in the flesh, standing right in front of me. Well, a few rows in front of me, but still.

            I look down and check my outfit. Converse dust-free, jeans not bunched up, shirt in check, inked triangle on my right hand visible. I reach up and pat down my hair. Out of habit, I start pulling out a strand of the fuzzy brown stuff out of my ponytail, but quickly stop myself. Still not over it yet, I think with a sigh.

            Satisfied, I lean back and try not to hyperventilate. I replay the moments of buying the tickets to the show back in my mind for the millionth time.

            I'd been sitting in my apartment bedroom, watching the television in footie pajamas with a Nutella sandwich in hand, when Ellen came on. Avicii had been interviewed that day, and I recalled his song, Hey Brother, as the show went to commercial. That's when I'd seen the ad at the bottom of the screen, "Next week, Bastille's Dan Smith! Get your tickets now!" My heart must have skipped a beat.

            Ever since I'd moved out, the idea that I had money all to my own, to do with it what I wished, was still something I couldn't quite wrap my head around. I was living on frozen dinner, pizza, and Nutella, not wanting to spend too much on anything. But once I saw that, I knew immediately what I wanted to do.

            I'd lunged for my laptop and found Ellen's site where I, with shaking hands, typed in my information and bought the tickets to the show. Then I closed the laptop with a snap and nearly threw it back onto the nightstand. I then proceeded to grab a pillow and scream at the top of my lungs into it.

            I wonder what the neighbors must have thought.

            Now that I'm sitting here, in the seat, in front of the stage, about the see him for the first time live, I still can't believe it.

            An animatronic voice rings out, somehow piercing the chattering audience, saying "The show will soon start. Please find your way to your seat. Thank you for coming." The mass of people in the aisle thins as they sit down. Luckily for me, only one person, an older woman, sits next to me. She immediately leans back and seems to fall asleep. I smile and shake my head before turning to the stage.

            An excited squeak escapes me when the music starts playing and Ellen dances out. She sits down and waves with a big grin on her face. "Hey! Hey everybody! Welcome back! Thank you for coming, it means so much to me. Thank you. Alright," she tries desperately to shush the crowd. Soon enough, everyone stops clapping and sits down again. "Well! I have a very special guest with me today, the first interview with anyone from this band yet. He's the writer of everyone's favorite song, Pompeii, and lead singer of the worldwide famous band, Bastille. Everyone welcome Dan Smith!"