We, all of us in the arena, needed a break to cool off after the overwhelming sexuality of MYB’s performance. The intermission lasted just shy of twenty minutes, as their set was taken down and replaced by Travis’s stuff.

The booming, disembodied voice of the public address announcer returned our attention to the stage: “Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for … Travis! Zane!”

The crowd erupted with applause and the screams of every teenage girl in the audience (Yes, that included me. And Shelby.).

A single spotlight illuminated a sliver of the stage, and into it stepped … not Travis.

A blonde dancer, followed by a brunette, then another blonde, an endless parade of impossibly beautiful girls marched into position as an instrumental montage of his hit songs poured out of the speakers.

I wondered which of the dancers Travis had slept with. All of them? Was it part of the audition process? My sexual naïveté informed me that because of the way they swung their hips and gyrated on stage that they must all be fantastic in bed. The way Jesse and Isaac were more or less drooling over them gave me a twinge of jealousy. Shelby picked up on it, too, and she elbowed Jesse in the side.

“Do you need a bib?” she asked him, and he flipped her off, playfully.

As the music wound down, the bassline of Incredible You shook the building and the dancers organized themselves in a horseshoe shape, open end facing the crowd. From somewhere below the stage, an elevator lifted Travis Zane, mic in hand, right into the center of the dancers.

His dancing was frantic and contagious. He started to sing and we, all of us, were swept up by his kinetic energy and the power of his voice.

It became clear within moments that Travis Zane was doing exactly what he was put on earth to do.

After two, wild, up-tempo numbers, he grabbed a towel and dried his face. He made some remarks to the crowd, thanking them for their support and telling them how much he loved Charlotte. Standard concert stuff, but of course we ate it up.

He turned his back and chugged half a water bottle while girls near the front screamed and swooned. I wondered if they’d act the same way if he did anything else perfectly normal, like tying his shoes or brushing his teeth.

With the dancers stepping back nearer the band, Travis began pacing the stage, telling a story.

“So, you might be able to tell, I like being on stage. In fact, I love performing for you, the greatest fans in the world. Can you tell?”

The crowd erupted.

He nodded, smiled, and continued.

“But, you know, it wasn’t always like that. Back in middle school, I was a quiet, skinny kid just trying to find my niche. Trying to figure out where I fit in. How to make my mark.

“Our school had a talent show, and my mom, who had been listening to me sing in my room since I was in diapers, called the school and signed me up. Without telling me!” We all awwwwed at the thought of Travis’s proud, prophetic momma.

“Anyway, she drove me to the talent show that night, right? And I thought we were just going to watch. I was embarrassed enough that I’d be sitting with my mom, that I didn’t even have a group of friends to hang out with.

“We watched the first few acts, a boy from my class did standup, some girls did a dance routine, and then the principal went up on stage and called my name. Called me to the stage.

“What did I do? I burst into tears.”

Part of the current audience laughed, while the rest cried out with dramatic “awwwws” again.

As he made his way back across to our corner of the stage, he continued his story.

“Mom pulled me backstage to help me compose myself, and after a few more kids did their thing, she talked me into going out there and singing. Facing away from the crowd, and with her standing just a few feet away.”

On a giant screen above the stage, a brief video clip played, a recording made with somebody’s shaky handheld camcorder.

A young Travis Zane warbled through a Michael Jackson song, facing backstage, his adorable mom off to the side, grinning.

As the clip ended, the first few bars of a familiar tune started to play.

“All this reminiscing has gotten me a little emotional. I’m not sure I can get through this song without a little help. Sometimes in love, and in life, we all need to be a little Fearless! Please welcome to the stage, a very special friend of mine. Charlotte, this is the world premiere of somebody who’s going to be very famous very soon, and you can say you saw her first. All the way from New Tazewell, Tennessee, Lia Morris!”

With that, somebody tossed Travis a wireless mic, which he held out in my direction, beckoning me with his other hand.

My eyes opened so wide they must have looked like twin green dinner plates on my face.

My mouth was moving, but no sound came out. I shook my head in shock, all the while a smiling Travis Zane waited, expectantly, along with 19,500 of my newest, closest friends.

Jesse and Isaac half-shoved me up onto the stage as the extended intro to Fearless morphed into the real opening of the song.

I glanced back, and Shelby was high fiving and hugging everyone in her vicinity.

Travis leaned in close, speaking directly into my ear. “Just follow my lead, babe, just like we did earlier. You’ll slay!”

With that, he handed me the wireless mic he’d been holding, and to me it was like placing my hand on the ripcord to my parachute. I was in freefall, terrified, but I had something familiar in my hand, along with his polished, professional example to follow. It was all up to me whether I landed gracefully or with a splat.

Travis danced his way back to center stage, singing his heart out.

I swayed and followed at a distance, clearing my throat and wishing I had some water. Or someplace to hide.

He completed his lines and turned his eyes toward my shaking form. 36,000 eyes joined his. On me.

Gulp.