30. Nora

THIRTY

After monthsof torture and spending days with some of my closest friends on this stage, the day has finally come.

I'm usually an anxious mess the few days leading up to the show, but most of my anxieties disappear when the day arrives. I tell myself that I just have to give my all. Even when I'm tired, exhausted, and ready to give up, I just need to keep on pushing, and it'll be over soon. It also helps that Wes left a bouquet of pink lilies in my dorm when I woke up this morning.

To my Stargirl,

I'd wish you luck, but I know you don't need it.

You're going to be amazing.

If you hear anyone screaming at the top of their lungs, that's me.

Yours always, Wes.

I may have sheda few tears reading that message. There's no one in the world that makes me feel the way Wes makes me feel. It's like he has this never-ending amount of hope in me. This constant belief that I'm going to make something of myself. I just wish he'd put some of that hope in himself because I have no doubt that he'll find what he's passionate about and will become the best version of himself.

Since Ryan's little outburst the other day, he's managed to make me want to punch him less. My plan finally broke through to him, and he's no longer trying to get under my skin. He might have this sad look in his eye, but I don't need to keep making myself sick over how he feels after the way he treated me. I want to put myself first, and that's exactly what I'm doing. He pulled through at rehearsals yesterday, and I've not stepped on his feet once today.

The first act goes perfectly. The audience was full, and when I stepped out onto the stage to find all my friends in the front row, it felt like my heart was on fire. I'm pretty sure Cat and Elle were crying. Connor just looked happy to be there. Archer looks like music has personally offended him in some way, and he'd much rather be anywhere else. I'm sure he's got a secret musical theater playlist hidden somewhere. There are a few guys from the football team, too, who are here to support as well as my parents, who are looking up at me with a dreamy look in their eyes. When my eyes connected with Wes's, it wasn't like the time he came to intimidate Ryan. I didn't feel this tiny, anxious fire in my stomach. I felt settled. Happy. Just looking at him doesn't make me worry about the next time he's going to do something to hurt me like it did when I was with Ryan.

He proves that when he startles me in the dressing room backstage.

I usually spend the intermission in my own little cave, listening to music so I'm not dragged out of my zone. Wes clearly doesn't know that because when I'm ready to leave my little station, Wes bursts into the small area, panting. It's only then that I notice the very tight-fitted shirt he's wearing… with my face on it. He chose one of the worst pictures of me from a few years ago, where I'm sticking my tongue out. Around the photo are the words, ‘I ?? Nora Bailey.'

"Holy shit," Wes exclaims, his eyes wide as he makes his way towards me. "You were so fucking good, Nora. I'm just– Ah! You were so good."

"Thank you," I laugh, my cheeks feeling hot and red. "But you can't be in here, you know?"

He just shrugs, kneeling down in front of me. He looks up at me, resting his hands on my thighs, and my breath catches. "Don't care. I just need to tell my girl how fucking amazing she is."

I'm about to protest, but he leans up off his knees to my height on the chair and presses his lips to mine. He tastes like he was made just for me — all fresh and summery and sweet. His hands travel up my waist, where my corset is keeping me locked in, until his hands wrap around the nape of my neck. I kiss him back deeply. I could get used to this kind of intermission tradition.

"Wes," I murmur into his mouth when he tips my head back. "You're going to mess up my makeup."

"It's okay," he whispers. "We can just do it again after."

I don't bother arguing with him because having him here like this, supporting me, holding me, kissing me, is more than enough. No matter how many times my life feels like it's spinning out of control, Wes pulls me back. He brings me back down to earth, and he's going to continue doing that for as long as I let him.

I know I don't have long left before I have to get back to joining the rest of the cast, so I push him off me slightly. "Okay, loverboy. I need to do my makeup all again because of you." He sighs before pressing another kiss to my lips. I scrunch my nose at him as he looks over at my vanity and starts reorganizing my makeup for me. "What are you doing?"

He holds up a beauty blender to me. "I just have to use this, right?"

"Yes, but–"

"Okay, perfect," Wes says, tilting my face back to him.

I blink as he picks up my concealer, applying it under my eyes and above my lip. He's got his tongue sticking out, his face painted in pure concentration as he continues working his magic. He starts dabbing the beauty blender on my face and I let out a laugh.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I said we'd sort it out, didn't I?" His eyes have a mischievous glint when his gaze meets mine again. I shake my head, unable to stop smiling. He picks up my blush and applies it in all the right places and I have no energy to fight him on this. After he's done and I've inspected his handiwork, he just leans back down on his knees and looks up at me.

"What?" I breathe out. I feel exactly as I did as he watched me in the mirror in New York. I never get nervous around Wes. Only when he looks at me like this. I'll never be able to explain it, but there are times where he looks at me like he's looking right through me. It's like he just knows he's got me wrapped around his little finger.

"God, you're so pretty," he whispers. My heart somersaults at his soft words. He drops his head to my knees, and it feels like he's worshiping me. His back rises and falls and the position is doing weird things to my insides.

"Thank you," I say shakily. He looks back up, his mouth twitching into a small smile. "You like making me nervous, don't you?"

He nods, grinning. "I like making you blush. I like watching you squirm when I compliment you. I like you knowing how insanely gorgeous you are," he says simply. "Most of all, I just like hearing you thank me."

I can't conjure up many words, so I lean down and kiss him again. "Thank you," I murmur into his mouth, knowing I'm thanking him for a multitude of things.

The restof the show goes smoothly. Even when I think we're going to mess up some choreography or stumble over the harder parts of the script, we pull through. The glow on Kiara's face, as she performs her duet with Ryan, makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside like I'm somehow refracting light from the inside. It reminds me of every good reason I had to perform and why I love being on a stage so much.

That feeling expands when I run into my friend's arms, and they're screaming at me about how well I did. Cat is still gushing over my outfit, Elle is screaming about her favorite song, Burn, and Connor and Archer grumble about how the lighting gave them a headache. And Wes stands back, watching all my friends shower me with praise, and he just winks at me. That simple gesture tops it all off.

I try to catch my breath as we walk back to the car, and Wes's arm tugs on mine. "I hope you're not too tired, Nor."

"I just performed a three-hour musical, Wes. Yes, I'm tired," I say, turning to him.

"Come on. You must have some singing in you left," he argues.

I hum. "Don't think so. I kinda left it all on the stage."

"Too bad," he says, shrugging. "I already booked us in for a slot at a karaoke bar."

"Seems like I don't have much of a choice."

"You always have a choice, Sunshine," he chuckles, holding out his hand to me. "So, what's it gonna be?"

Fuck it.

I slip my hand into his, knowing I've made the right decision.