Page 102 of Reggie and Delilah's Year of Falling

“Well, I don’t know if I saidsuck itexact—”

“Hey, you’re right! She is starting!” he shouts when the first strums of guitar sound from the stage. “Nice to meet you, man!” And with that, my first fan disappears into the crowd.

A lot reallycanhappen in one year. And I can’t wait to find out what this next one brings now that I’m meeting each day, each moment, as myself.

Delilah

“You ready?” Ryan asks, strapping on her bass guitar.

I knew it was a long shot when I asked Jimmy for just a few minutes of stage time. New Year’s Eve is a big night, one of the biggest at The Mode, and I’m basically starting over from scratch. But I was surprised, ecstatic, when he said yes. It probably helped that Ryan offered to give up some of the Valentines’ set time—and put together a bass line that brought my song to the next level.

“Oh, she’s got this,” Beau says, sitting down at his throne behind the drums. “No stage fright or bubble guts for this one.”

He texted me an apology after Christmas, said that I had been right and he was still kicking himself over staying silent that day with Charlie. And when he asked how he could make it up to me, I sent him the rough version of my song. He sent me back a shuffly beat that brought it all together and then offered to back us up tonight. I don’t know if Charlie knows. I don’t care.

I remember being so scared last year. I remember feeling likeI hadn’t earned my place, that I didn’t belong. But now I know I belong wherever I want to be. The only person who can count me out is myself.

I search the crowd—which I realize, with a rush, is filled with faces I recognize from other audiences—and spot Reggie. His beaming smile is the last boost I need to push down the nerves and step up to the mic. This is just the first show of many with him right there in the front row, the guy who sees me and loves me exactly as I am.

I keep my eyes wide open as I sing to him.