CHANCES ↠ NICK MARA

TWELVE

Nick just finished his performance. They were the closing act of the show. I am standing in the front row, front and center. I wanted to see him perform like before. It's been so long.

His performance was so captivating. It's like I always remembered. It's like nothing had changed. His eyes had found me halfway through his performance, and I had willed my heart not to beat like crazy when a big smile appeared on his face. And even though it was my first time hearing this song, I felt like I have heard it my whole life.

Nick got off the stage, and I don't know what compels me to forget about the cameras, about the paparazzi, about all the fans, but I throw my hands around him immediately when he came up to me. He's sweating, but I guess I didn't care about that. He stumbles a bit, caught by surprise, but wraps his arms around me again. It feels like home.

"You did so well," I gush. "That song was amazing!"

His cheeks turn a bright pink, and I resist the urge to tease him about it. We aren't like that anymore. "I wrote it a few years back."

I wonder if he wrote it about me.

People are calling him to go backstage because he's blocking the way, so I just follow him as he walks backstage.

"Your performance was amazing too," he tells me. 

"I was nervous to sing it," I admit.

"Why?"

"It's an old song, and I wrote it about you," I tell him honestly because it wasn't like a huge secret or anything.

"That song," he jerked his head back towards the stage, "is about you. I wasn't going to make it a single, but we just decided to put it on the new album."

I smile, a small one, just to show him how much it means to me. However, I didn't push the topic further, as to not make things awkward. I nod at him, biting my lip. "I've listened to a few of your other albums. Makes me proud every single time."

If I am being completely honest, I would say that I didn't want to listen to his stuff at first because it only brought bad memories, but I couldn't stay away for long. I wanted to know how he was doing, and when I finally gave in, I realized it wasn't that bad. It reminded me of simpler times. It made me happy because he was doing so well, and that was all we missed.

"I listened to all of yours," he confessed. I attempt to hide my shock, but I won't be surprised if I failed. "I couldn't just miss out on that. I had to make sure you were doing okay for yourself, but I wasn't that worried. I always knew you'd make something of yourself. Always."

I didn't know what to say. "I'm doing okay."

Like it is some kind of reflex—which I guess it is at this point—I scratch my ring finger even though there's no ring there anymore. It's not like I've been pining away for Nick during the years we've been apart. I've lived my life and sometimes, I found myself thinking about him, but I didn't feel like this. But with him standing right there in front of me, it's like it never went away.

Nick reaches out and touches my hand—the one the ring was on. It's just a light touch, just a way to wake me up form my thoughts. He gives me a closed-lipped smile.