Stuck with a Punk ✔

No. 63.: Nervous

Shaky legs take me down the hallway as I follow a lady in a suit that's leading me to the backstage. Mentally, I'm still in the main event hall, and Annabelle along with the rest of the crew is bowing, smiling widely, pleased with the booming applause the audience is rewarding her with. My hands still sting from the clapping. During the applause, I didn' even notice my hands were beginning to ache, there was so much adrenaline, pride, and astonishment coursing through my veins,

The lady stops an smiles at me beamingly. "Who are you looking for, sir?"

That's none of your damn business.

"Do you need to know that?" She should just take me backstage and I'll find my way around it.

She is a bit disoriented by the question, but nonetheless, she quickly smiles again. "The dancers are in separate rooms, sir. It would help to know who we are looking for."

Ugh, fine.

I guess it is her business.

"Annabelle Lois Taylor." Now take me to her!

The lady nods and thinks for a moment, probably trying to remember where we need to go. "Mhm..." She looks at me brightly and shows the way. "Down here."

At first tracking the room down was exciting, now it's taking a different turn. It's like I'm on a dangerous adventure and I don't know if I'm gonna get to the Holy Grail or Smaug. But I actually do know what awaits me, and that is just making it worse.

Shit, why didn't I bring her anything? Like a box of chocolates or something of the sort. It's common practice to bring something to the performer, like Parker and Harry from the first Spiderman movies bought Mary Jane flowers. Why do I only think of these things when it's too late?

My lungs are weighed down by anxiety. What do I even tell her besides giving her the praise? She was out of the world on the stage, and despite knowing her somehow well, I'm getting nervous about seeing her right now.

I want to see her anyway because she's Annabelle, but now after seeing her performance and how angelic she was, I need to see her.

I want to see her more than anything. If someone were here to tell me to fuck off home and forbade me from talking to her, I'd knock out his teeth. I just want to be around her, be in her presence.

I just want to tell her how much I liked the show, and primarily, and of utmost importance, that she wad terrific.

The noise in the hallway gets louder as we're nearing the occupied rooms. I freeze completely when one of the doors opens and a dancer, or two, chatting casually are dressed only in white lingerie and white tights.

Damn!

They don't mind me at all, even though I'm behaving like a fifteen-year-old that bought the first Playboy magazine. I guess they are used to being around people in tights and underwear. Still, I'm the one reacting ridiculously. I've seen many women naked before, how is this any different!

Busy glancing back at the dancers, I barely notice when the lady in the suit distances from me and knocks on one of the doors. All of a sudden my stomach decides to learn how to do a knot in pantomime, and I get a huge stomachache from it.

She peeks in the room and announces with a bright tone: "Taylor? You have a visitor."

"Oh, great!"

When I hear Annabelle's voice I get slight vertigo, and despite it being only slight, I'm worried I'll get through that door by crawling on my knees.

There are two things going through my mind when the lady shows me to the door and lets me in.

One is Nathan! You will see her!