Chapter 10: NINE

I wasn't entirely sure how to feel when I eventually made my way downstairs into the hotel lobby the following morning.

I'd pulled myself from the warmth of the hotel bed, though notably empty in the absence of the person I'd fallen asleep beside. I'd packed the majority of my things, ensuring that all of my belongings were ready to go so that I wouldn't have to pack after I got back to the hotel later that night, after the show. The next day, we'd be moving on to the next city, early in the morning. Somehow, it still came as a surprise to me that I was unable to truly focus on the night I had ahead of me - arguably for what would be the biggest night of my life, so far. Tonight, was Harry's first show in the US; my first show as his photographer.

I'd dragged myself into the bathroom, leaning forward to wrap my hands around the rim of the dauntingly polished, marble sink, eyeing my tired image in the mirror. I looked like hell. I wasn't a morning person, though I'd have liked to have the resolve to be one; I couldn't hack it. My hair fell down, messy and dishevelled, over my shoulders, and I was somewhat fearing tackling the tangles I was bound to find in them after last night. The remaining makeup that I'd failed to remove the night before had also collected in dark smears beneath my eyes, and I couldn't help but hope that this wasn't how I'd looked throughout the previous evening.

Silently cursing my former drunken self for her neglect to wash my face, I let out a tired sigh, lifting my arms to scrape my hair back into a ponytail so that I could begin to work at removing the remanents of my makeup. I brought my hair upwards, tying it back with only a small glance in the mirror, only for my eyes to be drawn back to my own reflection, widening in horror. My lips parted in bewilderment, as I frantically tilted my chin to the side, craning my neck into an awkward position to try and enable myself to gain a better look.

There was a damn hickey beneath my ear.

Just below the lobe of my ear, where I'd felt Harry's teeth graze over it on multiple occasions last night, was a deep, purple marking. My hand rose to cover my mouth in momentary dismay, before I groaned, dragging my hands over my face at this added, unnecessary inconvenience. Talk about subtle.

I traced my fingertips over the mark, unable to ignore the small flutter in my stomach at the images it caused to resurface in my mind. The way Harry's mouth had fallen to my neck, kissing over my jaw and my ear, not a single spot unattended to; the way his fingers had dragged over the surface of my throat, coaxing my head to tilt backwards. I'd ended the night being pretty drunk, as had Harry - I knew that, for sure. But I was sure that even if I'd drank twice the amount I had, I wouldn't have been able to forget the way the night went.

After I'd showered, and applied a nearing-ridiculous amount of makeup over the bruise, feeling somewhat like a teenager who'd been caught doing something she shouldn't have, I was still unsatisfied with my attempts at disguising it. With a defeated huff, I pulled my hair back down, and got myself dressed. It wasn't truly noticeable, with my hair covering it - not unless you were really looking, but it was still a nuisance, and something I would have to be wary of showing. I wasn't at all sure what to expect from Harry this time around, but if his previous behaviour was any indicator, me parading into breakfast with a hickey on display certainly wouldn't have put a smile on his face. Not that I was exactly to blame for it. Even if anybody was to see it, and I was to say that it didn't come from Harry, I was sure it wouldn't be a good look for the first proper night of my new job, regardless.

I'd received a text from Elin, letting me know that the plan was to head down for breakfast, and so that was what I did. I grabbed a larger tote bag and shoved my things into it for the day, including the camera I wanted to use that evening. This was the best one I had - the newer one I'd purchased only a few weeks prior. I knew this one would be perfect for taking pictures of the show tonight, but I would still need to do some test shots at the arena later on.

It was only when I stepped into the elevator of the hotel that I finally allowed myself to start relentlessly considering the consequences of what had happened last night. I'd been unable to push the actual events from my mind - but now... what did this mean? It dawned on me, then, that I could likely expect a similar coldness from Harry that I had, before - I didn't want that; not at all, but the fact he was so blatantly absent from the room when I'd woken up this morning, having slipped away without another word to me, was, arguably, quite telling. If he'd not regretted it, he'd have stuck around - and that was okay. He was entitled to regret, or to not want anything further. I wasn't even sure if I wanted anything further; in fact, I wasn't sure what I wanted at all.

Harry had never given me any reason to believe this was anything more than physical - almost all of the very few times we'd been alone together had ended in sex; there was clear physical attraction, but that was all. Harry and I had never even co-existed as friends - we had only known each other through sexual means, and then through a work environment whereby we'd refused to even exchange a simple 'hello'. But last night had been different; last night, a line had been in place, that we had dared to cross - a line with a meaning behind it - and though it was certainly unexpected, we were no longer strangers. This meant more, whether we liked it, or not.

I wasn't fully understanding of his reservations. I knew I had my own, but his weren't so clear - if Harry hadn't been seeing Stella, then why was the fact we'd had casual sex so awful? I understood not wanting to broadcast it in his work place; there wasn't any reason for the band, or his other coworkers to know about it, especially since it was clear that this was only physical, but why had he insisted on instilling such a clear, awkward distance between us? I still didn't have that answer, despite initially requesting it last night. I wasn't sure what he was so afraid of; especially considering that if he'd been embarrassed, or so deeply regretful, as I'd originally predicted - then why sleep with me for a second time? Why show up at my room, why interfere at the club? Why spend the night in my bed?

I wasn't sure if I'd expected him, really, to stay until the morning. I wasn't sure what to expect from Harry at all, because I didn't actually know anything about him; the way he thought, the way he rationalised. But I couldn't ignore the way I found myself wanting to; this strange pull I was feeling. I'd never felt anything quite like it before.

But I also understood the practicality of it all. Harry and I already had a plethora of issues, just from knowing each other at arms' length for a mere week. We had butted heads on more than one occasion now, and though there was a clear physical attraction there, as well as this weird, magnetic pull between us, that I was beginning to think he could feel, as well as I -  pragmatically, we were starkly different people, from what I could tell. Everything pointed to just that - our very positions in life epitomised that fact. Harry was rich, he was famous, he was cultured and travelled; he had experienced the world, with networks of friends and connections - he was a household name, with an established career, and a clear trajectory. I was anything but those things.

Why was I overthinking this so much? Who was to say that Harry was even paying what happened last night a second thought? This could've meant absolutely nothing to him, as it ought to have done for me. Even if he wanted more - which he wouldn't - I wasn't capable of it. I knew I wasn't. And though the feelings I was experiencing, as much as I'd like to deny them, were certainly all-encompassing; I simply couldn't handle more than casual, which only made it so much scarier that I couldn't get him off my mind.

When I finally made it downstairs, and followed the signs from the lobby to the hotel restaurant, for breakfast, I was happy to catch Elin's bright smile, waving me over to the table that she occupied. I moved over to her, returning her smile and catching sight of the remainder of the table - already seated, were Ally - tapping away on her phone - and Mitch and Sarah, as well as Pauli. No Harry, of course.

"Izzy, how'd you sleep?" Sarah greeted me as I took the empty seat beside Pauli, who greeted me, himself. Mitch sent me a small nod, narrowing his eyes a little, but certainly not in any manner I could deem confrontational. It was an almost questioning look, but I brushed it off.

"Pretty good, actually," I returned, as a waiter arrived and immediately filled my cup with coffee. Very well, actually. The very realisation I was hoping to push from my head was that it felt a little easier to fall asleep with a certain somebody beside me. I'd shared a bed with Calvin on multiple occasions; not all throughout our relationship, because I'd honestly tried to avoid it at any given opportunity. There was a strange discomfort that would extend through my body at his presence, sleeping beside me, but last night, likely due to my drunken state, I hadn't felt anything but at ease. I glanced at the empty seat opposite me, beside Mitch, and I couldn't help but wonder where Harry was.

The conversation seemed to return to what it had been prior to my arrival, with Pauli cracking a joke, to which Elin and Sarah burst out laughing. I sipped on my coffee, unable to ignore the quiet thump of nerves beginning to swell in my chest, not only in anticipation of his arrival, but of the day ahead.

I wasn't sure how they were all so calm. Of course, they had all done this before; they were far more accustomed to this than I was, but this truly just appeared to be a normal Saturday morning for them, sharing breakfast with friends. It was like they wouldn't be on stage, performing to an arena of thousands that very same day. I didn't even have a job like theirs - nobody would be paying a moment of attention to me; not a single pair of eyes would be on what I was doing, but I still felt sick to my stomach with anxiety.

"Morning," a voice sounded from the end of the table, and I craned my neck around to see that it was Stella. She looked so put-together; her hair curled so perfectly, her makeup so smoothly applied. I supposed that since she hadn't come out with us the night before, she'd probably managed to get far more sleep than the rest of us.

I couldn't ignore that Stella truly was a beautiful girl, even if the personality I'd seen so far didn't exactly match. I was somewhat surprised she'd joined us for breakfast, seeing as she hadn't seemed very interesting in talking to anybody other than Harry, so far. She took a seat at the opposite end from me, with Ally, and I heard Pauli, Sarah and Elin grumble a 'morning' in response, exchanging rolls of their eyes and mimicking looks. I bit back a laugh, as Mitch didn't even look up from his food. Was she really so disliked?

And, within only another minute, he was here. It was like I was developing some sort of radar for him, because I sensed him the second he stepped through the door and into the room. I looked up, my stomach fluttering as I watched him politely brush past a waiter, towering over the people he passed. He wore a pair of black sweatpants, and had a black hoodie to match, adorned with the title of his own tour. Somehow, even with his own name on his clothing, something I could've laughed at anybody else for doing, he still looked effortlessly good. My eyes landed on his, and I caught the slight twitch of his lips as he looked at me, before he turned to the rest of the group. He briefly lay a hand on Mitch's shoulder as he took the final empty seat, beside him and opposite me, his knee accidentally brushing over my own as he did so, causing me to jump a little.

"Morning, everyone," Harry said, and I tried to ignore the way my mind was drifting to the fact that he had walked in, late, only a moment after Stella. Nothing was going on there, he'd already said so, I tried to remind myself. Not that it mattered, anyway. I couldn't help but notice how Stella's eyes appeared to narrow at Harry taking his seat at this end of the table, despite him not having any other choice.

I blinked, quickly realising I'd begun to stare at him, and pulling my eyes back down to my mug of coffee. Thankfully, Pauli turned to me, and began asking me about how I was feeling about the night ahead, before we got onto a conversation about his set up for the show; his instruments, and new techniques he'd been testing out. I could tell he had a lot of musical knowledge, as I was sure they all did - something I was certainly lacking - but I truly did love hearing somebody speak so passionately about their work. His hands moved expressively as he spoke, a smile on his face, and it was clear that he was buzzing with excitement about being able to do the job that he did. I couldn't wait to feel that.

When I glanced back at Harry, his ear was turned to Mitch, the two leant in to have a quiet conversation of their own. I figured this must've been something they did often; they were clearly extremely close, and Harry seemed to be the person, other than Sarah, who Mitch was most willing to interact with. I was beginning to notice how the two of them often exchanged glances or silent gestures, or would keep their conversations to themselves. I wondered how long they'd known each other.

I forced my eyes from him, again, as Elin began to tell a story to the group. Being that she was a little far from me, I turned my head to follow the sound of her voice, leaning forward a little to grant her my attention, properly, only for a sudden cough to sound from the individual opposite me. I furrowed my eyebrows, following the noise and catching Harry's urgent eye on me. He glanced at the rest of the group, and when satisfied that nobody else was paying attention, instead remaining focused on Elin, he brought his finger below his ear, gesturing at me. I frowned for a brief moment, tilting my head to the side, slightly, as Harry blinked a couple of times at me, continuing his gesture. What?

It was only after a few seconds that I finally realised what he meant, when I mimicked his gesture in confusion - he was urging me to pull my hair forward, after I had subconsciously tucked it back and undoubtedly exposed the poorly-covered bruise below my ear whilst lost in the previous conversation. I did so, quickly, hoping the heating of my cheeks wasn't too obvious as Harry set his hand back onto the table, sending me a little nod to let me know that it was covered. Good one, Izzy.

When I dared to look up at him again, he appeared to be biting back some kind of laugh or smile, his own face a little flushed in colour. I couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed, hoping that nobody else had spotted it, as he had, but I also felt the slight flutter return to my chest. Somehow, at his acknowledgement of last night's events, it made them feel that much more real, causing my heart to thump a little.

Harry's voice caught me by surprise, sounding across from me the literal second I set down my fork after the final bite of my breakfast. It was like he'd been patiently waiting for me to be finished after he'd finished his own a few minutes prior. "Can I borrow you for a second, Isabella?" I looked up, eyeing him skeptically.

"I need to talk to you about the show; run you through some things before tonight," he said, his eyes darting to the side to gesture for me to follow his lead, out of the room. I nodded, and nobody appeared to bat an eyelid as we stood up from our seats - nobody but Stella, who of course, had caught Harry's movements. I saw her eyes land on him with a soft expression, her gaze, however, hardening when she seemed to catch that I was going with him.

I wasn't sure where we were going, but Harry stepped aside to let me go ahead of him. I made my way back out of the restaurant the same way I'd entered, hearing Harry send multiple kind 'thank you's to the waiters that we passed. Just when we made it to the entrance of the restaurant, I felt his hand press to the small of my back, his touch almost burning through my shirt. His hand guided me forward, barely on me, but enough to make my breath to hitch in my throat as we made our way back through the lobby. We passed the receptionists, who were watching him pass them with wide smiles on their faces, as well as many other hotel staff who appeared to stop in their tracks and clear a path upon the sight of Harry. Even though I was in front of him, his palm still occasionally ghosting over my back to edge me forward, I could still see how everybody reacted to him. I wasn't sure if it was partly due to the elegance of the hotel we were in, and that, perhaps, this was part of the job description at such a high-end establishment, but I couldn't help but feel that, really, it was due to Harry. Perhaps it was the fame, the status, but somehow it felt more than that. I knew he just had this allure about him - commanding attention wherever he went without even having to open his mouth. Everybody watched him in awe as he made his way around. I couldn't exactly blame them; I'd caught myself doing the same on more than one occasion. There was just something about him.

We made our way down a corridor, and his fingers curled around my hip to stop me from moving any further. God, if he kept touching me, I felt as if I might just burst into flames. I turned my head to see him holding open a door, nodding for me to step inside. I raised an eyebrow, before I obliged.

"I'm getting some horrible deja-vu," I broke our silence as he flicked the light on, and I found us to be in an empty conference room of sorts. A small, playful smile appeared to tug on his lips as he had the same not-so-fond recollection as I did to the night at Ally's office. It was almost funny how we were now in a similar predicament. "Do you just make sure you have a room on standby for conversations like this?

His face softened as he moved to stand beside me, leaning against the conference table. "I seem to be making a habit of it," he returned with equal humour, his eyes dropping from my own to scan over my face in a way that made my cheeks warm. "We can talk about the show later. I think we need to talk about last night.." he trailed off, searching my eyes for approval. I nodded. I knew he was right - this conversation would have to take place sooner rather than later if I was to be able to focus on anything but him.

"I was pretty drunk," he said, now, pursing his lips. "I know you were, too. And last night shouldn't have gone down the way that it did. We were both drunk, it shouldn't have happened," he concluded, causing my stomach to drop. I cleared my throat, instead opting to nod, slowly, in agreement. I hadn't gone in wanting him to say anything particularly different, but somehow, now the words were leaving his lips, it wasn't landing the way I'd expected it to. It felt like a weird sting of rejection, despite the fact I hadn't been seeking anything more from him. I knew this was absolutely what was best - everything regarding practicality, pointed to this being the absolute best option, not only professionally, but also for my own sanity. I wasn't at all positioned or capable of anything deeper than what had already happened between us, and I already knew that, judging by the impact he was having on me, last night could not happen again.

"Look," he breathed, running his hand over the back of his neck, "We're going to be spending a lot of time together over the next couple of months. I don't want things to be difficult, for either of us.  You said this was a big opportunity for you... I don't want to jeopardise it," he paused, as if awaiting a reaction from me. It was a little late to avoid difficulty, but I felt a small pang in my chest at his apparent concern for preserving my opportunity; starkly contrasting to how he'd looked to seize it from my grip a few days ago. I remained quiet, and so he continued. "Avoiding and ignoring clearly don't exactly work for us," he met my eye, now, a faint flush upon his cheeks, as he admitted, "I can't really seem to stay away from you. And even if I could, it isn't practical for the tour. So... I think we need to start fresh. 'Forget everything that's happened, and just try to get along, properly. As colleagues, as... friends," he offered, letting out an exhale at the end of his sentence as if he'd been holding his breath. I knew he was right - everything came down to practicality. And it was clear he felt that there wasn't anything deeper to pursue, which was exactly what I'd been telling myself all morning. So it was settled. Fine. Easy. Sorted. I could do that.

I needed to get it through my head that there was nothing more, now. I needed to truly force all the images from my head of him and I, and learn to ignore the undeniable physical attraction I was feeling. Perhaps I'd grow used to it, like a silly little crush in school that you learn to grow accustomed to. But, what I hesitated to admit, was that I'd never had a silly little crush quite like this one.

He couldn't stay away from me. I knew that feeling, though I couldn't really understand it. The day we'd spent yesterday refusing to even exchange the simplest of words had felt oddly torturous. Each second we'd spent avoiding seemed to push him only further onto my mind - he was right; avoiding and ignoring did not work for us. Even in such a short period of time, that was clear. We would have to co-exist - it wasn't like we didn't like each other, or despised the other; it shouldn't have been really difficult. All we had to do was ignore the physical attraction.

I couldn't help but wonder why it was so important that we start fresh, and try to forget what had happened. I couldn't help but wonder why it was so important to him that we didn't allow our interactions to grow into anything more, or to be overly publicised, as it had been so important for him even prior to last night. But I supposed it was better that I didn't push. In some way, it was almost better that I knew less; that way I couldn't fixate on too many of his words, or their meaning - instead, I could put it behind me, as I knew I needed to do not only for him, or for the tour, but for myself.

I knew I wouldn't be able to forget what had happened - not by a long shot. But I could move forward. This was good. This was right. I didn't want a deeper connection, nor did I need one, nor could I sustain one. Being alone was easier, and it was safer.

"I agree, it shouldn't have happened," I finally responded, and I'd expected him to nod along with my words - but at my own declaration of our actions being a mistake, his eyes appeared to subconsciously narrow in my direction, before he forced a change in expression. "I don't think ignoring each other works, either. I think friends sounds good to me," I told him, and he nodded, a smile overtaking his features.

"Good, I'm glad," he nodded, bringing his hands together, "we've got a fun two months ahead of us, Iz. It'll be amazing, I promise," he pushed himself away from the desk, creating some distance between us and causing a slight wave of relief to wash over me, as I found my mind drifting to follow the use of his nickname he appeared to have developed for me. I was often called Izzy by those closest to me, even the band had started to throw it around, but Iz - I wasn't ever really called that. It felt, somehow, so much more endearing when it fell from his lips, igniting an odd warmth in the pit of my stomach. I decided, then, I liked when he called me that; I liked that it was only him, who called me that.

"I've got to get back and run through some things with Ally. I'll see you at the arena later," he said, brightly, and I couldn't help but notice how quickly his demeanour had shifted from one of solemnity, almost back into performance or entertainer mode. I furrowed my eyebrows slightly. I'd sort of revelled in the fact he wasn't so performative around me until now, but it appeared the walls had gone straight up in this moment. I bit my lip.

"Yeah, I'll see you later," I nodded, remaining in my position against the table. As he headed towards the door, his hand curling around the handle to tug it towards him, he stopped, turning back to face me for a moment.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, catching me by surprise. I narrowed my eyes a little.

"I suppose."

"You weren't really planning on sleeping with him, were you?" he asked, and I tried to hide my surprised expression. Was that really what he was thinking about? I knew he was referencing Dylan, who I'd met in the club, and I certainly hadn't forgotten my playful exploitation of his clear jealousy, that I'd still yet to truly understand. I tried to stifle the smile I could feel fighting its way onto my lips. He was still bothered by it.

"It didn't even cross my mind," I returned, honestly, watching his expression shift into something I couldn't quite detect. He appeared to stifle a playful grin of his own, a short, breathy chuckle leaving his lips, as his eyes met mine a final time, before he turned and left the room.

Distance was good; distance was safe, and it was familiar. I knew that, without a doubt, and I knew it was the best option. This was what I needed. I didn't need Harry Styles to walk into my life and flip every emotional guard I'd put up onto its head. Therefore, I should've been relieved that we had installed these boundaries. It was the right thing to do.

The rest of the day had flown by. We'd all travelled to the arena before the early afternoon, and I'd nervously texted Grace for the entirety of the journey. It was already early evening for her, and she was quick to reply with encouragement and excitement for the day I had ahead of me. She promised to stay up and follow the show on Twitter, and I couldn't help but smile down at my phone. I blew out an exhale as the car stopped in front of the arena, seeking some composure.

Even so early in the day, there were hundreds, if not thousands, of people waiting outside. Seated on the pavement floor in their groups, were people clearly awaiting entry to tonight's show, although it wouldn't be granted for many more hours to come. All of this for Harry.

I glanced over at him as the group of us exited the car, sneaking around the side of the building to go unnoticed by the waiting fans. He, too, eyed them for a moment, before I watched him shake his head to himself, blowing out a deep exhale of his own. Maybe I'd been wrong in assuming he was somewhat numb to it all by now; maybe he wouldn't ever really be used to it.

I'd never watched a soundcheck before, nor had I ever actually heard Harry sing on his own, in person.  I'd seen him as a part of his former band, years ago, but I'd never heard him sing, properly, in isolation. But, neither of which could I have predicted to feel so surreal. Even though the arena behind us was empty, as Ally and I took a seat, perching onto a crate of supplies whilst the band took their places on stage, the atmosphere was still, somehow, electric. Pauli and Elin and Mitch were positioned around the stage, each with their own set-up, and Sarah was stationed in the centre, at the back, elevated in order to play her drums. I watched them all in awe, unable to hide how impressed I was. Even with the group of them messing about with their instruments, laughing to each other through the echoes of the empty arena walls, their talent undoubtedly seeped through.

And then there was Harry. I may have never heard him sing like this before, but after hearing only a little, I was sure I never wanted to go without that sound again. They ran through a couple of songs, and I watched how he wrapped his fingers against the microphone stand, fidgeting with it, and he tapped his foot melodically against the stage floor. His head would tilt backwards to enable certain notes, projecting them out to where Ally and I were sitting. I sat with my knees to my chest upon the equipment box, growing lost in the way he sang. In short instrumental breaks, he would take a step back from the mic, closing his eyes and tilting his head from side to side, almost revelling in the sound of the music, as if he didn't craft it himself.

"So," Ally nudged me, snapping me out of my fixation on Harry's performance, "things like this, you could capture, too. We like to try and get the essence of the whole tour, rather than just the shows. Feel free to take photos at, literally, any time. Hanging out backstage, travelling, at the hotels, soundcheck... anything. It's whatever you think is worth capturing."

I nodded, laying my hand on the camera I'd set to the side. "Is there a particular vision you want me to follow for the shows?"

Ally shook her head. "No, I trust you. Take the pictures however you want. I picked you because I liked your style - there's no point or benefit in me trying to change it." I smiled, nodding again. It was nice to have somebody believe in me that way; to believe I was capable based purely on the evidence of my work that she'd seen.

The anxiety only truly returned to its height in the pit of my stomach when we were all gathered backstage, and a loud buzz was sounding from the main part of the arena. The fans were inside, and it was starting to feel a whole lot more real. I couldn't stop the nervous shaking of my leg as everybody bustled about busily backstage and we drew closer and closer to the start of the show. I hadn't quite found my place; not yet. I figured I should've been with the band, and Harry, taking pictures of them as they got ready to head out on stage, but I was honestly focusing all of my attention on not throwing up with nerves.

"Ten minutes, Izzy," Ally appeared at my side, giving my arm an excited squeeze. "Oh, I love the buzz of it all. It's brilliant, isn't it? There's nothing quite like it." I was beginning to see that.

Elin, Pauli, Sarah and Mitch then appeared, all dressed in coordinated outfits that brought a smile to my face. I ushered them over to stand in front of the wall in front of me, raising my camera.

"How are you guys feeling?" I asked, hoping to divert my attention from my own anxiety, as I shakily snapped a couple of photos of them all, smiling widely. Once I'd taken a couple, I tried to steady my breathing a little. I could do this. It was photography; I was good at that. When I brought my camera back down, Elin responded.

"Nervous, but so excited!" she said with a wide grin.

It was then that Harry turned the corner, stepping into view and I could've sworn I forgot how to breathe. Colleagues, Izzy. Friends.

He was clad in a satin shirt, a rich purple in colour, buttoned the bare minimum, which he seemed to make a habit of, with some wide-legged trousers to match. His hair rested perfectly upon his head, framing his face just enough - he looked so replenished, despite the little sleep he'd had and the amount of travel he'd endured. He looked ethereal, each of his rings slotted into their rightful position upon each of his fingers, his nail polish appearing to have been touched up with little intricate designs that I couldn't quite make out from where I was standing.

"Here," I said, tilting my head to the side to gesture for Harry to join the group, "let me get one of all of you." They did as they were told, Harry stepping into the middle of the group as they surrounded him. A wide grin overtook his features, his face lighting up as they all posed playfully, and I snapped a few more photos. "Perfect."

A loud array of cheers and screams sounded from the arena, as some music began to play, and I figured the musical introduction - I'd seen a brief snippet of one, earlier on - had begun to play. Harry rubbed his hands together excitedly, as the group began to huddle together. I saw Ally had brought her phone to her ear, disappearing out of view as she spoke to whoever had called. Pauli, Sarah, Mitch and Elin wound their arms around each other, and Harry, pulling each other into a tight huddle. I raised my camera to take another picture of them all, only managing to snap one before Harry turned his head towards me.

"Iz," he said, causing the others to lift their head from the huddle. He looked at me for a moment, before speaking, "Come here."

"I've got a good angle here," I said, trying to ignore the thumping in my chest at the words he'd just spoken, and how beautiful they'd sounded coming from his mouth.

"No, I mean, come here," he took a step back from the huddle, opening his arm to beckon me in. "You're a part of this team, now."

I'd never been a part of anything. Not a team; not a group; not a family. I stopped, staring at him, as his eyes appeared to be reading my own hesitations. He sent me a tiny nod, as the others began to turn around at my prolonged absence.

"C'mon, Izzy," Pauli grinned, waving me over as well, and I gave in, letting my camera hang from the strap around my neck, and taking a few steps forward to fill the space between Harry and Pauli.

Pauli's arm was thrown over my shoulder, but it was my proximity from Harry that was causing my head to spin. He was mere inches from me, and I could smell the richness of his cologne as his hand moved to land on my waist, to complete our circle. My breath hitched in my throat as it shifted to brush over the bare skin just beneath my shirt, and I felt his thumb subconsciously draw a short, gentle line. How could he not be doing this on purpose? My skin felt as if it was on fire, but I forced my eyes into the circle, trying to ignore how his hand felt pressed to my body.

"I know it's my job to psych you all up," Harry said, "but I think I'll hand it to our very own Shakespeare... Mr Mitchell Rowland!" he exclaimed, as the group playfully cheered and laughter filled the space between us.

Mitch's lips twitched into a small, playful smile, as the group fell silent awaiting his response. Everybody had wide grins on their faces, Harry watching him with wide, playfully over-interested eyes. 'Well.." Mitch spoke, causing Harry to murmur a playful "Whoooooaaaa..." under his breath, miming some kind of drum-roll in anticipation of Mitch's words. "Let's fucking go!" Mitch exclaimed, with perhaps the most expression I'd ever seen from him, causing everybody to cheer again. I liked how everybody seemed to understand Mitch's personality and reserved nature so well, that it had become a point of humour.

"Beautiful words, my friend. Simply poetic!" Harry exclaimed with a laugh, his hand leaving my body for him to clap jokingly. "Let's fucking go!" he mimicked with a shout, chuckling to himself as the circle broke, and the band ran out onto the stage.

Harry turned to me, us being the last two remaining as the music began to pick up out on stage, and the crowd burst into an incredible amount of noise. He blew out a breath.

"How do you feel?" he asked me, his eyes scanning over my face and I bit my lip.

"Terrified," I admitted, watching him nod. I didn't even know if he knew that this was my first time doing anything like this - that really, I had no proper photography experience. I'd gotten this by pure luck, and I could go out there and mess it all up just as easily.

"You'll be great," he told me, and I felt as if he really meant it. And somehow, when it came from his mouth, it was somewhat believable, even for me.

"How do you feel?" I returned, watching a wide grin break out onto his lips.

"I can't wait to get out there," he told me, a breathy laugh leaving his lips as he was almost unable to stand still. I could tell that he really meant that; he almost resembled a child buzzing with excitement on Christmas Eve. He wanted to see the people out there as much as they wanted to see him. "You should head out. I'll see you in a minute," he told me, his hand landing on my shoulder. I tried to ignore the spark it sent rocketing through me. "You'll be great," he repeated, and I caught his eyes briefly fall to my lips, before he sent me a reassuring nod.

I nodded in return, taking a few steps away from him so that I could head to my prescribed spot, just in front of the barrier on the floor before the stage, just as the music began to swell. "Am I supposed to tell you to break a leg?"

He grinned over at me, raking his hand through his hair as he began to head for his own point of entry to the stage, "You can tell me anything you like, Iz."

-

I'm sorry this update took a while to get to you! I took a little break after writing/updating non-stop, just to try and get my head back into it. feeling much more replenished w ideas now :')

Thank you so so much for all the love and support on this book. we're at 3k readers already which is INSANE. thank you so, so much. I appreciate you all so incredibly much

I hope this didn't disappoint <3