Sydney finishes her report, wrapping up our discussion on my social platforms. We used today's meeting to promote my album further, and I'm sweating because of it. 

The teaser video we made a few weeks back was a hit, so we opted to do it a second time. Although I'm not tense anymore, it still took more shots then I'm comfortable admitting. Sydney liked the authenticity of the very last one we did, when I couldn't stop laughing towards the end, telling her to stop recording. 

"Make that 650 new followers." Sydney adds before closing her laptop. 

"50 already? It hasn't even been an hour." I pinch the ends of my sleeves. This is great news and I'm excited, but it's still chilling. There are so many people watching me. 

"Have you seen your album sales yet?" She tucks her laptop into her bag, slinging it over her shoulder and brushing the fabric of her ribbed olive skirt. 

"Nope. Fahim's keeping track but I'm not prepared. You know that feeling when you finish an essay and hand it in?" 

"Nervousness. Worry. Questioning your entire existence?" 

"Yep." I stand. 

We make our way out of the room, down the bright hallways and to the large staircase that overlooks the entrance.

"I can't imagine being in your shoes. I feel overwhelmed in small meetings." She laughs gently. 

I smile reassuringly at her, "That's because meetings suck, no matter who you are."

"Yeah, they do. Oh, what happened with Reese?" 

"It went well, he's doing okay. He'll contact us if anything else happens." We come to the bottom of the stairs, stopping to face each other by the front desk.

"That's good. I'm glad he's still a fan even after your messages." Her hand lifts over her devious smile, round eyes twinkling. 

It's all over and done with, sorted, all good. Yet my cheeks still fizzle at the memory of it. "You read them? Sydney!" 

"Couldn't help myself." She laughs. A month ago she would only have emailed me. Now she's inviting me to meetings and joking with me. I still don't know her very well, but I'm kind of proud. 

"Well, have a good day. Hope everything goes well tomorrow." She waves as she leaves ahead of me, her wide gait getting her to the bus stop as fast as possible.

I stay put, smiling, proud of the people in my life. They're all facing their fears, whether they realise it or not. It's encouraging and I don't want to be left behind. So I pull my phone from my pocket, leaving through the large glass doors as I call Fahim. 

He picks up, his voice distant but loud. He's talking on his car's phone. "Hey Jem, what's up?" 

"I think I'm ready to know how I'm doing. What are sales like?" I force out, a smile squirming its way between my cheeks. 

"Um," he pauses, voice carrying like he's turning his head looking for cars, "you just finished with Sydney right?"

"Yeah."

"I'm nearly at the dance studio. You can meet me there if you want and I'll show you the records." 

"Hm. Picking Cindy up are we? What a sweet boyfriend." I tease, already making my way towards the backstreet the studio resides on.

"We aren't dating. And I offered to drop her at her daughter's school so she isn't late for a parent teacher meeting." 

"Sweet not-boyfriend."

"So creative- oh hey! I just passed you!" His car rolls by, turning the corner to pull up outside of the studio. I see him wave before he disappears, too quick for him to make out which finger I'm holding up. 

"Be there in 5 seconds." I hang up and sprint the rest of the way there. 

When I arrive Fahim is sitting sideways in his car, feet hanging out the open door, a laptop resting on his knees. 

I come to a stop in front of him, catching my breath and silently cursing myself for wearing flats. Not only for the deafening slap sounds that ricocheted off the old brick buildings, but for the pain searing through my feet. I need to get on that trainer trend.

"What made you change your mind? Last time I asked, you had a Rapunzel moment. Hot and cold." Fahim asks, typing something up. 

My hands slide off from my knees, back straightening. Air has reentered my body, oxygen once again filtering through me. It feels good. 

"Just. Wanted to." I mutter, that smile back on my face. 

Fahim looks up, one eyebrow quirked. He says nothing about it. "Okay, well you will be pleased to know it's going well. More than well actually." He spins the laptop around, hands supporting its sides. 

I step closer, leaning down to read the words.

5,000 sales as of December 17th 09:00 across multiple platforms – Monetary value  £30k. Collective 3.7M views on YouTube across the 5 available songs – Estimated monthly ad revenue £5k.

Okay. I was right. I was not ready to look at this. Nope, nope, nope! Holly shit, it's only been 2 days!

Goosebumps rise on my arms, the action making me shiver. My stomach swirls, butterflies of enthralling colours flutter through me. My mix of excitement and nerves clash so harshly that I taste something bitter in my mouth. I might throw up. 

"Oh- Calm down! It's okay. This is good, exactly what we wanted from this." Fahim shuts his laptop, putting it behind him and standing before me. 

"Mhm. I'm cool. Just. Overwhelmed. Oh my god, this is so surreal." I stare at the floor, allowing my thoughts to take over my sight. 

This is only the start. Sure, I already have songs out, singles and EPs. But now, it's really taking off. I might actually make a successful career off of this. People will care, want to listen, follow me. They'll listen to my music and feel a mix of all my emotions, filling in the gaps with their own. It'll become a whole community and I'll be damned if it's nothing less than a caring, accepting community. One that stops attacking random people for maybe being my friend. 

I shiver again, this time with pure excitement destroying my nerves, holding itself victorious within me. My smile must be near impossible looking. 

My eyes connect with Fahim's, the worry in his expression melts away. He smiles along with me, though that gets quickly replaced by a more tender look when his gaze shifts to someone behind me. 

"Hey. I wasn't expecting this one." I turn to see Cindy as she unwinds her hair from the bun it was. It falls with the same grace Cindy exudes when doing any style of dance, the slick black strands reaching her waist. 

Of course Fahim would find himself someone just as cool and elegant as himself. A harmonious combination, different shades of the same colour. 

If this is how fate plays us then I guess I shouldn't be surprised when I get my own idiot. At least Isaac has some grace in his words. 

I catch myself, mind running blank. I did not just think that. Goosebumps spread all over my body, I hear my heartbeat pick up. 

I'd love to ignore my thoughts entirely and ease myself into the current conversation, but the topic of said conversation seems to be me. 

"What's up with him?" Cindy asks, now stood shoulder to shoulder with Fahim. I'd find this little gesture cute if I weren't going through a crisis. 

"I just told him about the album sales, but I thought he was handling it well." Fahim answers. Both of them take their questioning gazes from me and focus on each other. 

"Yeah, he looks like he's doing great." Cindy snorts, oh I'd so make fun of that snort if it weren't for the fear she holds over me. "Thanks for taking me to the meeting. Taking the tram would've gotten me there 10 minutes late, useful to no one."

"It's no problem. Does Rory need to be there? If not, I don't mind her sitting in the car with me."

"They keep the kids in the hall, though Rory does complain about it. One time I went to collect her, I had to peel her off the floor while she mumbled the chant: bored, sad, hungry." Cindy shakes her head, a laugh tickling her throat at the memory of it. 

Fahim smiles with her, a look so soft in the eyes that hold only her in view. "Well, if you don't want a bored kid, I know a good solution." His gaze shifts to me. 

Cindy's kid wants to meet me, I vaguely remember this conversion happening. She sounds dramatic, I would love to meet her. 

"You want to bring me along?" I ask, shifting my feet. 

Cindy lets out a long sigh, circling the car to the passenger's side door. "Fine. Maybe when she meets you she'll change her mind about who she idolises." She teases. 

Fahim grins at me, mouthing words to a low whisper, "She got Rory your album for Christmas and she knows at least 3 of your songs by heart. They sing them together sometimes."

"I don't want to be late!" Cindy calls, as if she knows what Fahim is talking about. 

"Coming!" He turns on his heels, happily sliding into the car and pointing his thumb to the back seat. 

~~~

We parked by the oaks lining the fence of the car park. The sun splits the clouds, casting its golden show through the bare branches. Wormy shadows fall around us, decorating the car with intermittent shade. 

Cindy's been gone for 20 minutes and Fahim and I, interrogated through every second. 

"But you don't play your own introments?" Rory asks after learning most of the music in my old songs was computer generated.

I'm not even sure how this topic came up. 

"Yes. But I can play instruments, like the guitar or a piano-"

"Or violin?" 

"Um," I pause, taken aback. Damn do I wish the answer could be yes. "No. But I can play a few songs on a cello – maybe. It was my instrument in school."

Rory smiles, eager for information. Her hair is long, straight and inky black, like her moms. She clearly takes pride in it's silky appearance, handling it with care and messing with the bunny ear scrunchy holding half of it back and out of her face.

"We get to play introments in year 6!" She beams. 

I haven't stopped smiling once since she started talking 20 minutes ago. She's bad for people's cheeks. "Yep that's when we played them. I carried it through until year 8."

"I'm choosing the cello!" A spike of energy hits her, apparently the only way to coax it out is by bounding up and down on her knees, patting the windowsill as she watches the still world outside. 

Fahim hasn't known Rory very long, this I know. But that doesn't affect the warmth he feels for her, shown through his eyes as he watches the ball of energy excitedly ramble on about her future. 

"That sounds exciting. If you need any gigs booked, you know where to find me." Fahim shifts further in his chair so he can properly face where Rory sits behind him. 

"Oh, good idea! Jem I'm sorry." She settles back down, a wide grin spread across her face. 

"For what?" 

"Stealing your manager." Her grin grows even more devious, reflecting the mischief her mother's does almost perfectly. 

"Wha- Fahim!" I point an accusatory finger at him, his hands immediately flying up. 

"I can't say no to that face, look at her! Look into her big eyes and tell her no, I dare you." He challenges. 

I have no problem saying no to Harry, cuteness isn't hard to resist. So I turn my head with confidence, connecting my eyes to her soft yet dark eyes. Her eyebrows drop, smile fading away right on queue. I'm left with an adorable, sad child. 

Like an abandoned kitten silently pleading for you to open your warm arms and bring them home. Harry tries this look, maybe it's the dimples we share, but he can't help crumbling to his inner Loki. Rory presents pure innocence. 

"Ugh, you're right! Stop making that face before I squish your cheeks!" 

Rory giggles, holding her round cheeks protectively. 

"Mom's back." Fahim informs us, causing Rory to turn her head back to the window, black hair flicking behind her. She begins waving dramatically. 

"Hey kiddo, someone's doing well in school." Cindy greets as she sits in the passenger seat. She shares a cute, silent moment with Fahim while she clips her seat belt, both matching a smile. 

"I'm gonna play the cello!" Rory declares. 

"Oh, boy. I hope you don't get to bring it home." She teases, an aura of happiness dancing around her. 

"So, Jem. You want to be dropped off?" Fahim asks as he puts the car in reverse and takes us out of the small car park. 

"If you don't mind. I have a bag to pack."

"Ah, Isaac's birthday tomorrow right?" Cindy asks, voice smooth and calm. She could narrate children's books with that tone. 

I catch Fahim's raised brows in the mirror as he flicks his indicators on. Clearly, Cindy does too. "Jem talks non stop during his classes." She explains. 

Fahim laughs and shakes his head. I can imagine the words in his mind: "Sounds about right."