Will We Talk?

42- Award

Colour code: black. Feeling: hyper. Boyfriend: looking smoking hot. Me: getting dolled up by a whole arse glam team.

These surroundings were very unfamiliar and upper class- I could get used to this. Its not everyday we get dressed up and go out in Newcastle, instead we just go down to the local in pyjama bottoms and a hoodie or something. Nor is it everyday you have other people poking and prodding at your face, covering up your insecurities and pulling at your hair with tons of apparatus.

At the minute, my fake tan was looking rather flattering after washing it off this morning. Alongside the makeup (so far), it was looking pretty lush. Luckily, it would still compliment my sparkly black dress that was hung up just inches away from my makeup station. This whole situation was so exciting, it was just the fact that Sam had been shitting himself all day over it. I hated seeing him outside with a fag hanging out his mouth, convincing myself to take a drag too, no matter how much it clawed at my chest- just in order for him to feel like he's not alone.

He isn't, I don't have to pretend, I just don't feel like I have a proper reason to feel as anxious as I did. My heart hadn't stopped racing with my trembling hands all day, fighting to see which could make me more obviously nervous. It was Sam's big moment, not mine, so why should I feel like this?

I shouldn't.

Anyways, in the wise words of Freddie Mercury, the show must go on.

But Sam obviously didn't want it to happen as he walked himself in circles, waiting for me to be fully ready. Just the sight of him walking from point A to B was making me dizzy so Heaven know how he was feeling. Maybe he was just breaking the shoes in that he very obviously hadn't worn, I was so used to seeing him in jeans and New Balance trainers. Yet here he was looking so majestic in his black suit.

"Pack it in pacing back and forth, Sam. You'll make yourself worse. Hell, you're even making me dizzy." I scolded as he instantly came to a stop, "Its gan be kushty man babe." I spun on my chair to face him.

"What if its not though? What if I completely humiliate myself?" he fights back, obviously not meaning to be so snappy.

"If you humiliate yourself, you humiliate yourself. Plus, on the positive side, there'll be more of the public eye on you." I chuckled, regretting it immediately as his face dropped. I knew he hated PR and the press and shit, yet here I was joking about it, just as he was about to be in the public's eye.

"Cheers Evelyn." he mumbled, sliding his back down the wall into a wall squat.

"Careful, you might split those pants." I suggested, alerting him as he stood back up, "Listen, babe, its gan be fucking mint oot there. You're mint, whether you win or not. If you don't, then its going to be a night filled with good craic with people in the same boat as you. Don't let this define you. Stay humble." I pepped him from my chair, fingers tapping on the arm rests.

"You're all done, darling." one of the assistants informed me as they moved from my view, allowing to see myself, "You look gorgeous. Do you need a hand with the dress?"

"Can do, please." I replied, beaming ear to ear as all of the team headed outside, leaving Sam and I alone, "Fuck me, I look like a changed woman."

I did. The eye bags that were a permanent feature of mine were now caked in so much shit that you can't see them. My eyes were coated in a mixture of black and silver eyeshadows, making a black-swan-esque effect. Its not often I do much with my eyebrows, but whatever these ladies had done worked magic as they now lacked in any strays. Nor is it often I opt for a matte lip, but this?This was incredible.

"You don't need all that to look fit. You're unreal anyways." Sam smiled, approaching me.

Compared to him, I looked a right state in my joggers and shirt I stole from him. He held my hands in his, stroking my knuckles with his thumb.

"This is so surreal. The imposter syndrome's pure out of hand." he laughed coarsely, removing a hand from mine to find the back if his neck.

"You, of all people, deserve it. I'm super proud of you, Sam." I kissed a light kiss to his lips, cautious of the makeup.

Then came a knock from my door, I shouted a quick "Its open" and a small woman, older than me, stuck her head through.

"I've been told you need a hand with your dress, my lovely." she explained.

"Aye, come on in." I welcomed, walking towards the dress, "This is it."

"That'll look super flattering on you sweetie, good choice." she flattered, taking the dress from the suit bag. Her eyes scanned over Sam, as though to warn him to get out.

"He's my boyfriend, he can stay here."

"Nah, I'll turn away." he smiled, sticking to his word and facing the wall.

*****

"I think I'm gannin into cardiac arrest." Sam admitted as we walked to our designated seats.

The poor bairn had been stuttering through all the PR, but he covered it up well. However, his sweaty hands against my abnormally cold ones hinted he wasn't well. Pictures were hell. How celebs do it all the time, faking a smile, is a mystery. My cheeks hurt after a few seconds, but Sam stood for a few minutes every couple steps we took, posing for the pictures.

"You'll be areet man. I think I'm gannin into cardiac arrest myself- Little Mix are over there." I exclaimed in a whisper.

Saying Little Mix were my favourite modern band was an understatement- ever since the X Factor days I've followed them. From the release of Wings and their DNA tour to now, the LM5 era and their recent release of Woman Like Me. I must obviously like the lasses as, comparing them to my playlist, they weren't really part of my 80s style in music.

"Fuck me I'm sweating." I mumbled, fanning myself with my hand that did nothing.

"You're sweating?" Sam seethed, pulling his collar, "What am I gonna say to Jack if he comes over? What's he gan say to is?"

"Sam," I cooed, "You're going to be fine. Jack will be fine. But don't embarrass me in front of my girl crush." I said, pointing towards THE Jade Thirlwall.

Not once would I ever have thought that I'd find myself, in the presence of many music legends, and legends of Newcastle too.

"I'm just planning on getting mortal, y'kna." he hummed out of the side of his mouth so that Owain didn't hear.

"Honestly, sounds like a good plan. Show the BRITs a true Geordie, eh?" I chuckled.

*****

"And the winner... of the Critic's Choice Rising Star award 2019 is..." read the announcer, whom I was way too pissed to recognise and even listen to.

My heart was banging against my chest as Sam's leg bounced, my cold hand on his contrastingly warm one. He was breathing heavily, I could hear the whistle from where I was sat. The nervousness he withheld when Jack was interviewing him was bad enough.

"Sam Fender."

I stood up immediately and gasped in both awe and shock, hand finding a way to slap over my mouth. His jaw dropped into an "o" shape as he rose from his chair, pulling me into a hug.

"You did it." I sobbed, placing a hand on his cheek and kissing him.

I cried into Owain's arms as he made his way to retrieve his award, clapping, whistling and whooping louder than all of the other celebrities around me.