Changing You ✦ The Sequel

Chapter 21 {Z}

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Exactly thirty minutes later, as I was supposed to step onto that stage, the urge to back down overwhelmed me. Fear of the unknown, of other people's judgement, took power over me and had my feet nailed to the floor.

Riley stepped in front of me, scanning over my face. "Are you nervous?"

I shook my head, the motion barely visible. I pulled my hands into fists, hoping to stop them from shaking. "No," I lied.

She shot me a tilted-headed look. I kept forgetting she could sense how I was feeling.

"Yes," I admitted. "I've just- I've never performed in front of an actual crowd before, besides you and Reese and Ryan. And honestly, I'm- yeah, I'm freaking out a little."

I blew out a harsh breath, fought the urge to run my hands through my hair. Pulled at the guitar strap around my shoulder instead. "I didn't even think this through," I stated. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to sing. I'm not prepared for this, like, at all."

Riley's eyes moved between mine, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "I remember the first time I heard you sing," she said, taking my hands in hers. "That was out of the blue, too. You weren't expecting that, either, but you still sang me that song and you blew me away. You nailed that, like you nail every song."

I huffed, feeling my cheeks grow warm. "I don't know," I mumbled, hating the shyness that seeped onto my features, giving me away.

"You're gonna do great," she stated, and there was so much confidence in her voice — so much confidence in me — that I almost forgot why I was doubting myself in the first place.

She gave my hands a gentle squeeze. "What I've heard from Jack, is that all the artists who come here are amateurs. They do this just for fun, not for money, not to show off or try and be professional, and they mainly just play instruments. Barely anyone ever sings."

That was definitely panic running up my spine, making my voice rise in pitch. "And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yes! Because you're gonna blow them all away," she said. "They're gonna remember you, Zach."

I pursed my lips, released my clammy hands from hers so I could brush them off on my jeans. "That's great. Especially if I completely embarrass myself out there."

"Okay, quit the trash talking," she demanded, tilting her head into a stern look. "Go grab that big pop star dream of yours by its vocal chords and start living it. You've already got me, okay? I'll be your number one fan, you're just singing for me, you don't know any of these other people so they don't matter, okay?"

I released a long breath, clenching and unclenching my hands a few times. Gazing into the warmth of her eyes, I tried to steal their calmness.

"These people are all doing their own thing, anyway. You don't even have to talk to them, if you don't want to," she said, giving me a reassuring smile. "Just go do what you love, it'll be great, I promise you that."

I swallowed, taking a glance over her shoulder at the small, square stage.

It's not even that big. It's not that big of a deal, I told myself. There are like, thirty people in here at most, that can't even be named a crowd. Don't be a coward. No big deal.

But to me, it was a big deal. Because ever since I had started singing, it had been my emotional release. My way of expressing myself, allowing my feelings to climb to the surface. And to do that, in front of a crowd? In front of strangers? That was a big deal.