Since We're Alone

Part 1

 She couldn't believe she was doing this. Phoebe Rose Bray gave herself a one-over in her hotel bathroom, smoothing out her satin dress with her carefully manicured hands.

It wasn't often that she travelled out of the country and it was far less often that she travelled alone. But when she drunkenly applied to become a seat filler six months prior, she hadn't been thinking about her internship or her god-awful boss, Margaret, or her starving bank account. She'd been feeling ambitious.

And that's why when she got the email regarding the Sixty-fourth Annual Grammy Awards, she huffed a rather annoyed sigh and silently accepted the invitation.

Phoebe began to understand the fuss about Los Angeles traffic when what should have been a ten-minute drive to the Staples Center turned into an hour-long road trip. Thank God Uber provided snacks.

It was more of a process than a celebration—for Phoebe, at least—and she was more interested in being assigned a seat than looking around for the faces of her childhood idols. Relieved to be inside with air conditioning and away from flashing cameras and hollering paparazzi, she settled into her seat and prayed to her lucky stars for a mediocre night.

The show was uneventful, for the most part. For the first half. As soon as the big categories began to surface, the crowd got antsy. From her spot at the back of the floor, Phoebe zoned in on the A-listers sitting closest to the stage, and it was clear they were shifting in their seats. Something was coming.

That something was Record of the Year, she deducted. She tried her best to focus on Justin Timberlake's never-ending monologue about finally being able to host music's biggest night, but the headset-wearing woman equipped with a clipboard was inevitable, and Phoebe knew where she was headed.

"You're next," the woman spoke, hastily yet quietly, "get ready."

Phoebe kept a trained eye on the tops of people's heads because she hadn't memorized where each artist was sitting and it seemed like the only way she could possibly know where to go.

People came out—Katy Perry and some guy—to present the nominees. Phoebe straightened her spine and firmly planted her stiletto, preparing to jump up at any second. She reminded herself of the importance in being stealth, avoiding taking away from the artist's acceptance speech because while this was their big moment, she was also contractually bound not to disturb the audience. Names were called. Snippets were played. An announcement was made. And before she knew it, Phoebe was silently power-walking toward the front of the arena, sitting her ass down in Lizzo's still-warm folding chair.

The crowd had settled and she was giving a very animated speech about the song's significance, and all Phoebe could focus on was the pointed boot almost touching her strapped-in-toes.

She was positive that the row of seven-or-so people sitting next to her were there together. Most of them muttered to each other during Lizzo's speech, but the guy beside her was dead silent. He stared straight forward, face aimed directly at the stage. Phoebe could feel his brown eyes on her. She wondered if he was suspicious of her, or frowning upon the idea of seat fillers because maybe he believed that general audience members had no place up front. She never considered that the warmth engulfing her body wasn't from her own embarrassment, but was instead radiating off of him.

The crowd broke into applause and they, together, realized that they, too, should probably be clapping. So they clapped. The show went on. And though neither of them said a word to the other, they were very aware of one another's presence.

So much that Phoebe's brain was running in circles, dreading the moment "Shawn Mendes" would be called as the winner of Album of the Year because he'd somehow have to wiggle past her, and she knew that with her luck she'd probably fall over. Her heart raced as she began debating whether she'd be standing with them in applause or remaining seated, and if she'd be shown on national television. It was all very much very fast and she didn't even notice that Shawn was muttering under his breath in her direction.