Only With You by Monica Alexander Read Free Book Online Page B

I leaned forward and passed the umbrella, which I’d signed earlier, to a fan in the front row. She was a little girl who looked no older than eight, but she was cheering and singing along to the lyrics the whole time. I’d noticed her when I’d been in the middle of the song and figured she’d appreciate it the most.
    Then I stood up and stepped back as thousands of people screamed and yelled and held up signs. Although it was my third time touring, it was an incredibly surreal experience that I never took for granted. I stood there for a few seconds just watching everything and taking it all in.
    “Hi everyone!” I finally said, and the crowd cheered even louder. “I’m Sydney. It’s so nice to be hanging out with you all here in Columbia!”
    More cheers.
    “So, I was thinking of doing a song or two more. How would you feel about that?”
    The crowd went nuts, and I smiled widely as I stepped up to a microphone and a stagehand passed me my guitar. From there I launched into the next song, and things pretty much became a blur as I went through the motions that I’d done so many times already that they felt like second nature.
    The show went off as successfully as we could have imagined, and the fans loved it, especially when I flew around the arena. It was definitely not my favorite part of the night, since I hated heights, but I put up w ith it since everyone thought it was cool. It also meant that people who had seats farther from the stage could see me, and I could see then. A lot of my fans made signs, and I always tried to wave at those who’d taken the effort. It meant a lot to me.
    By the time the last note was sung, I was exhausted and ready for a big, fat cheeseburger and my hotel room. I was always hungry post-show since I didn’t eat before. Room service and then bed. That was pretty much my life on tour.
    And that’s how it went for the next few weeks. Everything became familiar and was like clockwork until we got to Orlando. I started to panic then since I was pretty sure a moment of blind insanity had swept over me when I’d thought ahead to this particular stop the week before.
    I’d actually asked Chris to send two tickets to Ryder, having promised him long ago that I’d do just that. I regretted it the next day, but Chris told me he couldn’t get the tickets back. I was stuck, and I was nervous as hell wondering if Ryder would actually come to the show and what I would do when I saw him.
    And then I was even more nervous wondering if he wouldn’t show up at all. That was probably the scariest thought.
    “You look ready to be sick,” Paul said, coming up to me a few hours before the show where I was lounging on a couch backstage.
    I’d eaten two Twizzlers and couldn’t stomach any more. Then my dressing room had started to feel suffocating, so I went out to the room where everyone else was hanging out when they weren’t working. I’d been mindlessly strumming my guitar, kind of, but not really, working on a new song.
    “I think I might be,” I told hi m, looking up to see him take a seat on the arm of the couch. He was wearing a fedora and looking fairly delectable.
    “Why’s that, love?”
    I shrugged. “Chris sent Ryder tickets to the show, and I don’t know if he’s going to come.”
    Paul knew all about Ryder. We’d had long talks about him.
    “He didn’t call you?”
    I shook my head. “Nope. He did not.”
    I strummed my guitar a few times for emphasis. I’d assumed Ryder would call when he got the tickets, but I hadn’t heard from him. It sealed the deal for me that he probably wouldn’t show. And that made me sad.
    “That’s unfortunate. Did you call him?”
    I shook my head again. “No, I figured the tickets would be an olive branch in and of themselves.”
    “Well, I hope he shows up.”
    “Me too,” I said, strumming out something that might actually work if I tweaked it just a bit. I worked on it until I had to get ready for the meet-and-greet, still