Notorious

Vacillate

Nothing can possibly describe the feeling of performing on a stage: the adrenaline pumping through your veins, the sea of people singing along to your songs, the bright lights shining in your face and making your make-up sweat off, and the feeling of the base vibrating your entire body like a second heartbeat.

It's a feeling I have always loved and one that I wish I could take full advantage of by being up front –by reclaiming Harry's spot.

But, alas, I'm nowhere near ready.

Harry –who is wearing his ritualistic navy headband and a shirt that may as well just be off since it's hanging on by two buttons- takes his last bow on stage. He blows a kiss into the air as the rest of us just bow humbly, while trying to ignore the screaming girls shouting his name.

No wonder his ego is so big.

He waves one last time before turning around with a large grin and sweaty face, and those emerald eyes lock onto my own almost instantaneously.

My own gaze drops to my guitar immediately as I set it down on the stand, but I don't miss Harry's face falling at my obvious avoidance of him.

It's been a week.

A week since the dinner, since Harry punching Louis, since Harry leaving me confused and hurt. He hasn't tried to speak to me yet –just giving me the space that I need. But, that doesn't stop him from staring.

A lot.

Which he continues to do as we exit through the curtains and into the back. But, I don't acknowledge his burning gaze, just as I haven't done the last week. I should be confronting him, but I just haven't gathered up the courage.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. Regardless if he slept with Amanda or not, he's made it pretty clear that he really only wants me physically and not in any other attachment.

Something that I thought I would've been completely fine with considering I hated everything about Harry just a few weeks ago. But, obviously in the last three months the boy has grown on me in ways I didn't think possible.

I had, idiotically, developed some kind of feelings for the twat.

And being rejected by him hurt a lot more than I had anticipated.

The boy is more confusing than Calculus –and that is saying something. He is so sweet and attentive one second, and then so arrogant and horny the next. I just can't keep up with it, it's making my emotions so fucked.

"Has mom called you?"

I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of Liam's voice behind me, but I recover quickly with a groan. I debate on whether or not to ignore his question, but I catch Harry watching me again and I would rather discuss my mother than deal with Harry and his multiple personalities.

"No, she hasn't and she won't, so stop trying." I deadpan, grabbing a water from the stagehand and avoiding his puppy-dog eyes.

Liam tends to stay out of my business or conflicts with my mother, but even this one is too big for him to ignore. My mother had made her feelings for me clear and so had I. And that is that –it had been a long time coming anyway.

"C'mon, Aspen," Liam pleads, trailing behind me as I walk past the others and towards the couch, "You know she is too busy to keep track of everything in your life and-"

"What did she get you for your birthday, Liam?" I interrupt, voice completely void of emotion as the others try not to make it obvious they are eavesdropping, but failing.

"What?"

"Your birthday. What did mom get you?"

"Uh, my Bentley..." He trails off guiltily, already knowing where I am heading with that question.