Adrenaline

09 | what happens in vegas pt. ii

With the five of us in our positions, we share one final look before facing back toward the crowd with our heads bowed.

My heart races so rapidly I'm convinced it's seconds from bursting out of my chest. I practice my breathing exercises, doing my best to slow to a more stable pace, but, like always, it doesn't work. Not just because it's impossible to get used to pouring my heart out on a stage in front of thousands of people, but because adrenaline isn't just a hormone—it's a state of mind. An uncontrollable feeling. A desire to achieve an end that's never in sight. The reality that dreams don't float down from the stars, but, rather, unearth themselves through blood, sweat, and tears.

Slowly, the stage rises until the screams echo around us so intensely I can't hear my thoughts. A vision of white noise transforming into hues of soft purple against a midnight blue sky, pierced with flashes of chromatic silver.

Our opening number, Nuclear Fusion's title track, starts with a slow crawl, morphing into a blaring cacophony of notes that inspire the crowd to jump to their feet.

The three of us in front make a show of parading around the edge of the stage. I rotate my hips, running my hand along my curves until I brush my hair back over to one side. The melody flows through me like a current while my voice echoes throughout the stadium.

Artists often talk about how performing on stage feels like transforming into the most vulnerable, stripped-down version of ourselves. It's where we cut our bleeding hearts open for the whole world to see. And though we make music for ourselves, we put it out into the world because we want it to connect with someone, so we hope it somehow does, even if it all sounds like gibberish in our heads. We think we're the only ones with these thoughts, but truthfully, our experiences, though unique, connect to a bigger picture many recognize in some way. It's what makes this act of opening up so thrilling, and why, when the crowd sings our lyrics back to us, I realize we did something right. Even if this life is a fluke and we crawl back to Hawaii with our tails between our legs because fate decides we're no longer worthy, I'll live with these moments forever.

Nuclear fusion, in simple terms, is the energy source that makes stars shine.

        And man, were we on fire.

...

"Stevie! Get your ass outside, Mav is here!"

        Staring in the mirror, I brush my hair back from my face before making my way outside.

        Maverick is one of my favorite people to be around. Seeing him again after a good chunk of time apart is soothing; a shot of dopamine after getting worn out on stage.

        I stop short when I realize they aren't alone, remembering Maverick's friend. My eyes flash over her tall, slim figure with a crown of pixie-cut blonde hair resting above her striking blue eyes.

        She's stunning, to say the least, and the hoodie around her shoulders clearly belongs to him as I recognize it from a previous time we hung out, but I pretend not to notice.

       "Everleigh, hi!" I wrap her in a hug. Her grip is hesitant, but she eventually relaxes into the embrace. "First of all, you're way too beautiful to be hanging out with this schmuck. But can I just ask first—was Mav late for his flight here? Jun and I made a bet."

Jun looks at her, his features crestfallen. "Before you answer that, please be aware that I already regret betting in his favor."

"Thanks, man."

Without hesitation, Everleigh steps back in. "You should regret it. Badly."

She rests her hand on Maverick's shoulder, and though she doesn't notice, he freezes up, eyes widening like he's been touched by a ghost in the middle of a haunted house.