Heartbreaker [h.s.]

Chapter Seventeen

We're going on four weeks of the tour and to my surprise, I'm hanging in there better than I thought I would. We are on our way to Nashville now, been on the road for a while and I've been dying for a nap. But those are few and far between with a bus full of loud boys.

So I lay here, in my bunk, eyes glued to my book, a little irked by the sound of video games and beer cans crunching in the back of the bus. I know asking them to settle down would be counterproductive—Harry would simply turn up the volume or something just to piss me off further and I refuse to give him that satisfaction. He's managed to worm his way so deep into my psyche, I don't even know what to do about it and the emotional whiplash is getting old.

He says he hates me, but wouldn't stop eye fucking me on stage. He purposely makes out with fans in front of me, but then follows me around begging for sex.

Harry Styles is the most complex dickhead on the planet. What the fuck does he want from me? And more importantly, why do I find myself thinking about him when I let my mind wander?

I have a call planned with Eva tonight, it's been a few days since we've had the chance to chat. I miss her so much it almost hurts. I'd love to pick her brain on what the actual fuck I should do about my current predicament, but that's kind of hard to do over the phone. I miss her, my bed, my music classes, that menace of a cat, but I know all of this will work out in the end the way it should. I'll be thankful for this opportunity for the rest of my life. Life on the road has been a major adjustment, but I manage. It's worth it to perform shows full of excitement with fans packed into the venues like sardines. Spending their time and money on us, It's like nothing else in the world.

Eva asks me regularly what it's like being on stage and every time I tell her it's hard to put into words. I mean, it's a combination of complex feelings, really. There's fear of failure, of course, pride that I've made it this far, and hope that this tour will open many more doors for me.

At first I feel out of place and vulnerable walking on stage and when that curtain rises, I hold my breath every time. The moment those stage lights dim, my heart gallops and my palms begin to sweat and suddenly I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing. But then, the roar of the crowd and the first strum of the opening song snaps me out of it—the world narrows and everything falls into place. My hands move over my guitar without a second thought. As the minutes pass, that vulnerability morphs into something magical.

No longer do I feel like a timid teenager trying to muster up the courage to escape the conveyer belt of life that was marrying young and popping out babies. No, I'm where I belong. On stage, sharing my passion for music, embracing a whole new world of independence and freedom. When I let the muscle memory of every song flow freely, I fall into a sort of trance. The air becomes thick with anticipation and tension, all while heightened awareness takes hold and the four of us connect on a level I never could have imagined.

I've never worry about how the stage presence would look and feel like with Niall and Louis. It's that dark cloud of dread and anxiety that come with being around Harry. We can't stand one another, that's clear as day. But on stage? Locked in and focused? It's the only language we seem to understand. Everything around me falls away and suddenly I'm not playing for just the crowd, but for him. A glance, a gesture, a shift in tempo and suddenly we've synchronized more than just timing, but feeling. He feels music just as deeply as I do which makes him that much more enticing to me.