Never Steal From Your Ghostwriter

Summary

The New Year’s Eve countdown on the stadium’s jumbotron was ticking down its final ten seconds.

Around me, eighty thousand voices roared in a deafening, unified wave. I stood in the VIP sound booth, lifting my phone to frame a shot of myself against the stage where Jason—the country’s reigning pop sensation—stood bathed in silver light.

For six years, we had lived in the dark. Six years of secret late-night studio sessions, whispered promises in unmarked hotel suites, and quiet sacrifices. But tonight, he swore, was the night he would finally give me a name.