Moon Tower

37

this chapter has been edited and updated. enjoy!xx

Backstage at the Brit Awards, my heels clicked on the linoleum floor as I looked for Harry's dressing room.

He had just performed his song "Falling," and when I saw the distraught look in his eyes, I itched to hold him tightly in my arms until whatever he was feeling went away. Before tonight, I didn't know what song he would perform. Like the rest of his music releases, I liked to be kept in the dark on what Harry had planned, something about it felt more exciting when I watched and learned everything about his music for the first time. Only this time I wished I had known what Harry was going to sing tonight, because it seemed that it was a partial tribute to his friend who had passed away.

Harry didn't tell me much about who this person was, or what she meant to him, and I didn't ask. I knew that I could have just looked it up, but that felt like an invasion of his privacy, so I elected to wait until he felt comfortable enough to talk to me about it. What I did know was that the news of her passing really shook him up, so I tried my best to be there for him any way that I could.

I watched from a little table in the audience as Harry sang his heart out, dressed head to toe in delicate white lace and his string of pearls around his neck. I knew Harry was the type of performer that really got into singing his songs, as if he felt each and every word that he sang in that moment; but my gut told me that the scratch in his voice and what looked like tear filled eyes from where I was sitting was more than just being in the moment. When the lights had dimmed and Harry disappeared backstage somewhere, Gemma leaned across the empty seat where Harry was a little bit ago to whisper quietly to me.

"You should go see him," she said, her voice holding a tinge of worry in it.

"You think so?" I asked, trying to fight the urge to anxiously bite down on my nail.

Gemma nodded, her face confirming for me that what I had assumed about Harry's performance was correct. I sighed, my heart becoming a little heavy for the man who was just performing onstage. Taking a sip of my water, I stood up, smoothed the front of my clothes, and started to navigate myself to Harry. As I maneuvered through tables, I felt the occasional set of eyes on me, and I was suddenly self conscious in the number Harry Lambert and I had picked out a couple months ago.

It wasn't what I had initially expected to wear when I first met with Harry's stylist. I thought I would be fitted for a long evening gown and then be on my merry way. But when I met with Lambert, he seemed to understand who I was after only a couple of minutes. He walked me over to a rack of various luxury dresses and pieces, immediately nixing some of them before I even had a chance to look. I watched him with wide eyes, a little stunned and a little relieved that we were already cutting through the large number of options that stood before me in his office. This "look," as Lambert called it, we found first. He had been rummaging through his never ending rack of clothes with the efficiency of a machine on one side while I slowly and quietly picked through fabrics and colors on the other. I had a dress made of multiple levels of tulle between my fingers, an apprehensive look on my face, when Lambert called for my attention. I was surprised by what he held up for me to see. The oversized jacket and shorts combination was simple, but still a bit of a statement, with its red lettering in various fonts against stark white fabric. Looking at the clothes clutched in Lambert's hands, I felt the corners of my mouth tip up. Still, it looked a little casual for an awards show.

"Oh, we can dress it up. That's the beauty of fashion, isn't it?" Lambert had said when I expressed my concern to him. "Now go try this on."

Harry Lambert was certainly right about dressing up the otherwise simplistic look. He fixed me up with a pair of heels and gave me some delicate earrings that I paired with the single pearl necklace Harry had gotten me for Christmas; the makeup artist that helped me get ready earlier (because Harry insisted that I have a makeup artist tonight) dusted something sparkly on the shoulder that was on display, the jacket carefully falling to one side, and my collarbones. I had to give the earrings and the outfit back afterwards, but I kind of liked playing Cinderella for one night, it made it all more exciting.