Rewrite the Rules

Besties Overboard: Part 27

Namjoon: I miss you being up close at the sound check.

I reread the message, a playful smile tugging at my lips. Did he actually enjoy having me there? The thought sent a warm flutter through my stomach.

Me: "I thought it would be fun to share my joy with someone else."

His next response arrived almost instantly.

Namjoon: "Cool."

Me: "Hey, are we going to the party directly after the concert?"

Namjoon: "Yes, is that a problem?"

Me: "Not at all, I just needed to know."

Namjoon: "Listen, when we play the encore, come backstage. Do you still have your backstage pass?"

Me: "Yes, I do. I'll figure it out."

Me: "Have a great show."

Namjoon: "I'm trying to have a nap right now."

Namjoon: "I am old," he wrote.

Namjoon: "Today I'm very old."

Namjoon: "OK, bye, later," was his last text message, and it made me smile.

With a goofy grin plastered on my face, I slipped my phone into my pocket. This backstage business had added a whole new layer of intrigue to the evening. The hours between the soundcheck and the concert suddenly felt like an eternity.

Reaching my hotel room, I braced myself for the usual post-event routine – a quick bite, a change of clothes, maybe a few minutes of rest. But as I flung open the door, my jaw dropped. The scene that greeted me was pure, unadulterated chaos.

Bags and boxes, overflowing with a dizzying array of clothing and accessories, were scattered across the living room floor. It looked like a bomb had gone off in a high-end fashion boutique. Had there been a mistake? A second later, my phone buzzed again, snapping me out of my daze.

Daisy: Champagne one-shoulder top. Black Versace cargo pants and black and champagne stripes Adidas.

Of course. Daisy. A wave of laughter washed over me as I realized the extent of her shopping spree, or should I say, her personal shopper's shopping spree. Jewelry, shoes, belts, dresses – you name it, it was there. She'd even gone so far as to stock me up on undergarments. Honestly, the woman knew me too well.

Picking up a shimmering black Versace cargo pant, a feeling of warmth filled my chest. Daisy might have gone a little overboard, but there was no denying it – she was the best friend a girl could ask for. Tonight was going to be an unforgettable night, and thanks to my bestie, I was going to look every part the VIP.

Daisy : A wardrobe fit for a rockstar!

Me: That's the one! It's absolutely perfect for tonight. I can't thank you enough for doing this."

Daisy: No problem at all. You're my best friend, and frankly, you deserve to shine like a diamond at that party."

The weight of the overflowing boxes suddenly felt less daunting, more like a promise of an unforgettable night. With a newfound fervor, I dove into the sartorial bounty, tossing clothes onto the overflowing racks of the hotel suite's walk-in closet.

It quickly became clear that whoever Daisy had enlisted as a personal shopper wasn't messing around. Neatly folded outfits were accompanied by little sketches – a visual guide to creating the perfect ensemble. A thrill shot through me as I spotted tonight's centerpiece.

The top. Oh, the top. It was a vision – a cascade of shimmering metallic champagne clinging to one shoulder, the other side a daringly bare canvas. As I held it up, the reality hit me. This wasn't a conventional top; it demanded a certain... freedom. A flicker of self-doubt ignited within me. Could I really pull this off?

Pushing that doubt aside, I reached for the next piece. The pants were a masterpiece – oversized black Versace cargo pants, fresh off the runway judging by the impossibly soft fabric and flawless tailoring. These weren't just clothes; they were a statement.

The shoes sealed the deal – a perfect fusion of comfort and style. Black Adidas sneakers sported striking metallic champagne stripes, a subtle echo of the top, and boasted a fierce leopard-print heel. They were edgy and sophisticated in equal measure, a perfect match for the rest of the outfit.

Accessories completed the picture. Delicate Bottega Veneta earrings, small yet impactful drops that framed my face perfectly. The matching purse – a sleek black crossbody cassette mini – was the epitome of understated luxury.

Slipping into the outfit, I struck a pose in front of the full-length mirror. And there it was – a stranger staring back at me. A confident, alluring woman, a far cry from the girl I used to be. But then, a wave of self-consciousness washed over me. Was this too much? Too out there?

The past, with its whispers of doubt, threatened to pull me back. Grabbing an oversized black t-shirt, I threw it on impulsively, a shield against the unfamiliar confidence radiating from the outfit.

Later, after a delicious meal and some much-needed rest, I emerged from the hotel room, a different woman.

This time, the VIP back stage pass (VVIP pass, according to the slightly awestruck security guard) felt less like a backstage ticket and more like a passport to a world I never dared to dream of.

A world of glitz, glamour, and maybe, just maybe, a chance to shine brighter than the metallic threads adorning my fabulous new top.

Adrenaline buzzed through my veins, a stark contrast to the leaden weight of exhaustion threatening to pull me under.

The concert had been a whirlwind – a sensory explosion of light, sound, and the raw energy of thousands of fans. Before I could even process the sheer magnitude of it all, the final chords echoed through the arena, signaling the end.

Backstage. That's where I was supposed to be. A sudden surge of panic clawed at my throat. I hadn't planned this far ahead. Did I have the right pass? Would I even know where to go?

Just as doubt threatened to consume me, a tall figure materialized from the throng of people flooding off stage. He was impeccably dressed, radiating an aura of quiet authority that left me momentarily speechless.

"Hello," he greeted, his voice a smooth baritone in perfect English. "You must be Emma Rowan?"

My voice emerged in a squeak. "Y-yes, that's me."

A hint of a smile played on his lips. "I'm Hoon, a BTS's manager. If you'd like to follow me, I can show you where you need to go."