The Lads and Brittany

chapter 1

Brittany's POV

I run the brush through my hair one last time. The Austin City Limits Music Festival is TODAY! Last year's was incredible. I met Hozier, and we became fast friends. He invited me again, and this time I will be there without the cameras.

I love my job. But if I'm being honest, it can sometimes be taxing. I don't often get the opportunity to just be somewhere as Brittany. Not Brittany Broski, not leader of Broski Nation, not Rumple Goocher's creator. Just Brittany.

Today is going to be amazing. I'm sure of it.

My phone begins to vibrate and I answer it, not even bothering to look at who's calling. Only one person, aside from my parents and siblings, has this number.

"Hey, Andrew," I say, balancing the phone between my face and my shoulder so I can continue getting ready.

"Helloooo Broski," the thick, Irish accent responds. "What time do you think you're gonna come?"

I smile, and all of my nerves turn into anticipation and excitement. Andrew John Hozier-Byrne, AKA my best friend, has a way of making me feel instantly better.

"I'm almost ready," I say, "so I'll probably be leaving in about ten minutes!"

"Do you want a ride?" Andrew asks, and something in his mischievous tone tells me that I should say yes.

"Okay..." I respond, my right eyebrow raising in curiosity while my heart leaps in elation.

~~~

A white limo whips around the corner, pulling up right in front of my house. The blaring music within causes the vehicle to thump in time with the base. 

"GET IN," Hozier yells over the noise.

I let out a small laugh, mentally readying myself for the day that is to come. Once I step inside this limo, all my worries will be a thing of the past. At least for a few hours.

He opens the door for me, and I duck inside.

Holy shit.

This limo is filled with party lights, women wearing sparkly dresses with cowboy boots and hats, men wearing giant belt buckles with flared-out jeans, every type of alcohol imaginable, and, best of all, a bin for cellphones.

This event is strictly no-tech for everyone in my and Andrew's party. We decided, because of how much we both have been planning and preparing for this event, we didn't want anything to ruin our time. Like, for example, a crazy group of stalker fans following us because of someone's careless Instagram post disclosing our exact whereabouts.

"You look stressed," Andrew nudges me. "Let loose, Broski. We're about to have the time of our lives."

I meet Andrew's eyes, and my fears melt away. His eyes glance down to my lips for a second so brief I think I've imagined it, and then his eyes return back to mine, his lips quirking up in a small smile. 

I'm about to respond when suddenly one of the girls on his other side taps his shoulder, and the moment is gone.

He turns around to face her, and the next thing I know they're making out.

Typical, I think to myself. Andrew is kind-hearted, approachable, and a great friend. But he's also never been known to turn down a steamy makeout session. There have been times when I've wanted to be on the receiving end of it, but I value our friendship too much to ever jeopardize it. 

I could never tell him I've had feelings for him since day one. It would ruin everything.

I quickly grow to regret the no phones rule, because now I am forced to sit next to my best friend while he glues his lips to a girl in a red, sequined dress.

Finally, we get to the music festival and file out of the limo. I straighten out my cowboy hat, and smile, staring up at the ACL sign stretching across the entryway. 

This is it. 

We start towards the artist entrance. Andrew is performing in about an hour, and I'm going to wait backstage in his greenroom. I might explore a little bit before he goes on.

So many artists are here today. Noah Kahan, Ariana Grande, and Gracie Abrams, to name a few. I want to catch a few performances before I am stuck with Andrew for the rest of the evening.

I have a feeling he'll want to meet up with some people after his set, and of course that means I will be meeting up with people after the set. Not that I'm complaining or anything.

I excuse myself while him and his team start lugging the instruments to his stage. I start towards the main stage, and see Noah Kahan performing.

"Everywhere, everything. I wanna love you 'til we're food for the worms to eat'. Til our fingers decompose. Keep my hand in yours"

Some part of me wishes Andrew would look at me like that. I know, deep down, we aren't meant to be.