The morning after

Senna's POV

"Hey, Senna. You awake?" a quiet voice calls from below.

Rolling over in the direction of the voice I check the time on my phone, letting it fall from my hand when I see that it's just gone 7 am.

"I am now. Thanks, Rafael," I say laying the sarcasm on thick.

I can almost hear the eye roll in Rafa's reply, "uh, nevermind. I can sense you're in a mood."

I peer over the edge of the bunk and soften my tone, "sorry, Raf... I didn't mean anything, didn't finish recording until 4 am. What's up?"

He looks up at me tentatively his hair, like always, is perfectly styled. "Me and the boys, are gonna grab some breakfast. You wanna join?"

I push a rogue curl back behind my ear before climbing down from my bunk, grunting with each step as if to demonstrate the effort. "Sounds good. I could do with a coffee."

Ignoring my groans he calls out, "I'll see you in there," as he closes the bus door behind himself.

I stop to check my reflection in the mirror on the wall between the beds. The dark circles under my eyes, unruly curls and mismatched outfit tell me what I already know. I need a day off.

I slap my cheeks in an effort to try and look like I haven't just risen from the dead and grab a sweatshirt from the shelf next to the mirror.  I change my hoodie into something that looks, and smells, a little fresher. I can't be sure the shirt is even mine. Not that it really matters since we all share clothes anyway. Especially Rafa and Luca.

In the early years it could be almost impossible to tell the difference between the twins. Not only did they dress the same but they looked same. Although no one, including them, knows for sure if they are identical or fraternal. These days they've grown into their own style. Plus we've spent so much time together on the tour together that we can pretty much tell them apart by their voices alone. It's almost harder for us to see the resemblance nowadays.

I enter the hotel's restaurant through the back entrance in an attempt to avoid a potential run-in with the paparazzi. The last thing I need is for them to see me like this. They're ruthless. They would be writing stories about 'my impending breakdown' before I even made it to the breakfast table.

As soon as I walk in Luca yells from across the table. "God, you look like shit! What time did you finish last night?" Which causes everyone to look up at me. I tug on the hem of the sweatshirt pulling it down over my hips and watch as a few of the crew nod their heads in agreement.

"4 am," I croak quickly taking a seat next to Ray Ray, Gus's driver and Jax.

"Nice top, Sen," Jax says flashing a cheeky smile between mouthfuls of oatmeal.

"Sorry, is it one of yours? I just grabbed the first clean thing I saw." The depth and crackle in my voice catches everyone, including me by surprise.

Jax's mouth curves up sympathetically as he slides a cup of coffee in my direction. "All good, Lad. I'm just messing. But you really don't sound great. Maybe you should stay in and rest today? We can't afford you getting sick."

I bring the desperately needed coffee to my lips, feeling my throat loosen instantly as the black tar glides quickly down to my stomach where is settles unable to be absorbed as I haven't eaten since 2pm yesterday. "Yeah, you might be right. I'll talk to Zander about taking a day's vocal rest."

As far as managers go Zander is pretty good. Sure he can be tough maybe even a little overbearing but for the most part he is fairly reasonable. Despite being only 15 years older than us he is the figurative father of the tour. The five of us trust he has our best interests at heart even if we don't always agree with him. Meanwhile he claims the reason he losing his hair is the stress of keeping us boys in line or more specifically, keeping Jax in line. An accusation which Jax is happy to claim.

"Want me to stay back with you. We can let the twins and Beckett handle today's interviews?" He gestures towards the three of them who seem to having a pretty involved conversation which requires moving the salt and pepper shakers around the table.

I glance up at Jax while continuing to butter a piece of toast. "I'm probably just going to check into my room and crash. Gus is killing my sleep."

"Still can't sleep on the bus?" He asks and I nod in reply.

He glances down at his chewed nails as the smile slowly leaves his face. "Okay, well maybe another time then..."

I take another sip of the coffee but feel no further release in the tension in my throat. "Maybe later tonight we could order pizza from room service and have FIFA night?" I suggest in an effort to lift the mood.

He looks up at me as if to gauge my sincerity. "Yeah, sounds good. It feels like ages since we've hung out."

"That's because it has been." I elbow him gently in the ribs as I take a bite of my breakfast. "I hope you've been practising?"

His eyes turn up along the edges as he smiles cheekily. "You're the one who needs the practice. Remember I beat your arse last time?"

"Only because I let you win," I tease, brushing toast crumbs from my shirt. Or was that his shirt? I'm so tired I can't even remember.

I finish my toast, take a few more large gulps of my now cold coffee and stand to go find Zander. As I turn to leave Jax tugs on my sleeve, his blue eyes pointed, "seriously Bro try and get some sleep. You really do look like shit".

"Thanks, J. Love you too," I reply sarcastically while doing my best to give him a reassuring smile.

I find Zander in the hotel reception arguing with the Concierge about which bags to take to which rooms. His arms flailing about as he tries to get his point across. I feel sorry for the Concierge, Zander is not someone who takes kindly to being told no. It's one of the reasons he's so good at his job and why he's such a pain in our arses.

He spots me walking towards him, stopping mid-sentence he all but hushing the Concierge by putting his hand in his face. Before I can even speak he narrows his eyes at me, looks me up and down and tells me how terrible I look and immediately sending me to my room on vocal rest. I nod, relieved that I don't have to plead my case and grab my room key. I give the Concierge a sympathetic smile as if to apologize before heading to the lift.

If I didn't feel so bad right now I might start to get a complex with everyone telling me how bad I look. On my way to my room I get stopped by a group of girls who have somehow bypassed security and are now riding the hotel's elevator. They ask me for photos. I oblige making every effort to smile and make small talk. After all the fans are the reason we're where we are.

The elevator doors open on my floor, I step out into the brightly lit hallway I thank them for their support without even looking back. I hear their squeals as the lift doors close.

The hotel room is nice. They all are. One of the perks of the job, I guess. But as nice as it the room is, it is still not home.

I head straight for the shower leaving a trail of clothes in my wake as I strip on the way to the bathroom. I let the boiling water beat down from the shower head onto my back until I start to feel almost human again.

Stepping out onto the mat I let myself drip dry because towelling off requires more energy than I can muster and drag on a pair of fresh sweatpants from my bag which, no surprises, Zander had managed to arrange to have to waiting for me as I collapse on to the bed.

I am not sure how long I have been out but am woken by my phone buzzing next to my head. I quickly reject the call.

"Sorry, Mum. Can't talk, on vocal rest. Everything ok?"

I text, wiping the drool from the edge of my mouth.

"Everything is ok. Just miss you Son. Can't wait until you're home in a few weeks. Love you xx. PS: Peyton says hi."

"Miss you too and Peyton (please don't tell her that). Love you, Mum."

"Seriously, I don't say that enough xox".

As far as sisters go Peyton is pretty cool. But I still don't need her knowing that I miss her. As for my Mum, well she's had it tough but she would never let you know that. I really do owe her everything. It's corny but I think of her as one of my best friends.

"You ok, Senna?"

"Yeah, Mum. Just a little tired. Nothing some sleep won't fix".

She replies with a bunch of emoji's and I roll my eyes. Peyton must have finally shown her how to use the new phone I got her for Christmas. I feel a tinge of sadness that I wasn't there to do it for her. I text back a green heart and check the time, 2:15 pm.

Sitting up against the headboard I turn on the tv. "And in other news, Gate Thirty Four have arrived in town. The chaos has begun ahead of their highly anticipated show tomorrow," I hear the news anchor say before making some terrible pun about the band's name that we've heard hundreds of times before.

I don't need to look up to know that they're showing aerial footage of our hotel. I can hear the faint sounds of the helicopter above coupled with the screaming girls below. Flicking through the channels I find nothing of interest so turn the tv off again. I open my phone to Whatsapp the boys. I apologise for being grumpy and missing the interviews this morning before asking when they'll be back. I reply to a few emails and in the privacy of my room switch Instagram accounts and once again become SJ.

I have one new follower and a one comment. I smile thinking how funny and different things are when people don't know who you are. I remember one time a year or so ago when one of the boys turned his notifications on his phone literally had a meltdown because it couldn't handle it. Zander had to arrange an emergency replacement phone.

"Hi, Harri&eyeknowit. Couldn't agree more, Kurt was truly poetic. By the way, love your profile pic you have beautiful eyes. SJ".

I type the last line 3 times. I mean generally I wouldn't worry because our fans eat that stuff up but I have to remember that here I am SJ. Not Senna from Gate Thirty Four. Complimenting a stranger on the internet is probably all kinds of creepy. But then again it's true. I love looking into people's eyes and this girl's eyes are stunning. I'm not sure if they're green or blue. They might even be grey. I click send before I can second guess myself, after all, what's the worst that could happen?

Ten minutes later I'm drifting back off to sleep my phone still in my hand.