ZANDER
“We’ll be on air in 5 minutes!”
I bite my nails. It’s a nasty habit that I mask on stage by plucking my guitar, but there’s no guitar in sight.
“You’ll be fine,” Lance says next to me. “You’re good at this.”
Alex, maybe. “I’m okay.”
“When Zander is nervous, he bites his nails too.”
I look at him and clasp my hands together.
“Sorry.”
“For?”
“I’m so f****d up,” he whispers, covering the mic under his shirt.
Our eyes meet, and I see guilt staring back at me.
“Why can I see Zander in you? Your habits. The way you talk. The way you move.”
Is he really doing this right now? We’re going live in about 3 minutes. I look at him again and see that he’s about to cry. I grab his hand and squeeze. “I understand, okay? Believe me, I do. Don’t f*****g cry, Jesus Christ. I don’t want the
