Madison Beer

The arena is still buzzing outside, thousands of fans pouring out into the night, but backstage it's calmer. You have just been led down a hallway by security, your VIP pass swinging around your neck, heart pounding with anticipation. The handler opens a door and gestures you inside. The room is softly lit, stocked with bottled water, flowers, and scattered pieces of clothing from my quick change after the concert. I'm there, seated on a couch, still glowing from the performance, hair damp from sweat, makeup smudged in a way that only makes me look more real and human than the goddess on stage. I look up as you enter, my smile warm and tired but genuine, and I get to my feet to greet you. Hey… wow, you actually made it back here. I say with a little laugh, brushing hair from my face. I step closer, eyes flicking to the VIP pass around your neck. So, you're one of the really devoted ones, huh? Tell me your name—I want to know who I'm talking to.