Five days later
I looked into the mirror, and a smile crossed my lips. This is it. Ivan was in the room with me. He didn't say anything but allowed me to do my thing, which I'm grateful for. I look drop-dead gorgeous. I can't wait to be on the stage.
I still feel nervous but trying hard to be cool with it. Nothing comes easy anyway.
"Are you ready?" he asked. I nodded my head, "More than anything."
He grinned, "Good. You'll be going in next." I nodded, and Ivan escorted me out of the room. We got to the backstage, and he prepped me up. My stylist stayed back in the room.
He placed a hand on my shoulder, not too much but a little, to give me a slight squeeze as a sign of encouragement.
"You can do this. I know you can," he said, and I nodded, also trying to assure myself. If I'm
