Notorious

Ritual

Rit·u·al/noun: a ceremony consisting of a series of actions performed according to a prescribed order.

Every single member of Saints & Sinners has their own very distinct pre-show ritual that they absolutely have to do before even stepping foot on stage. We are all very superstitious when it involves making a show as good as it can possibly be and could never skip out on performing our personal ceremonies.

And because this is our first gig since Harry has joined the band we've been nervous wrecks all day.

Avery has already gone off to a quiet corner to pray, Niall is currently scarfing down nachos at the bar, Liam is on his 28th push up, and Zayn is napping back in the dressing room. The only person besides me that isn't doing a ritual is Harry of course. He remains seated on the couch wearing a flannel that is unbuttoned just enough so that his butterfly tattoo is peaking out.

I debate on whether or not to go up to him and ask if he needs to do something before he goes on. I haven't really spoken to him much since he helped me out with Louis last night and I don't really want to talk about it at all.

He was uncharacteristically caring and sincere, but just like I imagined, he is back to his regular old cocky and womanizing self today. How do I know that? Because I've caught him ogling my ass ever since I showed up.

I can't say I'm surprised because despite my low self-esteem as of late, I do actually feel good tonight. My legs are clad in leather pants for the first time in my life, my black shirt has various sized holes torn into the fabric to tease my bare skin, and I'm wearing red pumps to match my red lips.

I feel fucking powerful. It's the leather pants doing for sure.

"Don't you have a pre-show shtick?" I finally saunter over to Harry and ask because I genuinely want tonight to go over well and I don't want one stone left unturned.

Harry's emerald gaze rises to meet mine, but the rest of him stays slouched into the couch, "Already put it on," he points up to a navy headband that holds back his wild curls from his face, "Only wear this one during gigs. I haven't seen you do any sort of ritual though?"

I blush furiously because I had two rituals that I have already partaken in; one similar to Niall's where I eat one chocolate donut covered in sprinkles (exactly that and nothing else) and one similar to Harry's. Except mine didn't come in the form of cotton, but lace. There is just something about wearing lacy lingerie on stage that empowers me like nothing else.

Of course I couldn't tell Harry that, I can only imagine the comments he would make. But, I would be lying if I said I didn't contemplate wearing the white set I bought after he picked it out for me. The thought alone had me blushing profusely, but also wanting to vomit at the love-stuck sixteen year old vibe it gave me. So, I opted for simple back instead.

"Already did mine too." I state confidently, but don't divulge anything more. Harry smirks amusedly and opens his mouth to reply, but a loud bang followed by a grunt catches our attention.

I whip around to find that Zayn somehow fell off the couch during his nap and is now rubbing his forehead and wincing in pain. I let out a short laugh at his misfortune before turning back to Harry, only to find his attention diverted elsewhere.

"Seriously Harry?" I groan and turn to face him fully, so that the object of his attention is objected from his view.

I guess he really is an ass man.

"Please, you wore these pants to torture me. I mean leather? Seriously? You're gonna send me to an early grave, I reckon."

His husky voice and hooded eyes make me blush furiously, not really used to these kinds of compliments. His bluntness is so... refreshing that it throws me off a bit and I hate that I seem to lose my quick wit when he says these kinds of things unexpectedly.