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• Chapter 6 ~ Nicotine •

"Why do you care so much? We're gonna be late!" I sat on my bed in our hotel room as Gemma tried on every damn item of clothing she owned. In the past hour, she had narrowed it down to four outfits.

"Because they're four hot Australian guys?" she spoke in a tone that made me feel like an idiot, like I should have known better. "What are you gonna wear?"

"Uh...this?" I shrugged looking down at my outfit. Gemma scoffed aloud, although I don't think she meant to. "What's wrong with it?" I was wearing some tatty black skinny jeans with holes in the knees and scuffs down the legs. I had tucked an Arctic Monkeys logo shirt into them and throw a green and navy flannel shirt over the top. And I thought I just wear a pair of Doc Marten boots with it all.

"It's just very...safe, that's all."

"We're going to play video games, eat junk food and get drunk. Not going to dinner in a fancy restaurant or clubbing in some high-end London clubs. You would wear the same fi it were just us."

"Beth, try to understand. Hot. Australian. Guys." She spaced out her words, talking slow as if I was stupid. I rolled my eyes at her.

"Just pick something! I'll be in the bathroom, my hair is pissing me off." Okay so yes, my hair was pissing me off – having hair almost down to your waist isn't easy or fun – but Gemma getting flustered over these guys was pissing me off more. And I had to deal with over three months of this.

I stared into the mirror in the bathroom trying to figure out what to do with the mess of long ginger hair. Not naturally ginger, I should add. That was just the colour it turned when I stripped the red dye out of it. I settled for your standard high ponytail, not giving a fuss how messy it looked.

As I walked back out into the room Gemma rolled her eyes at me.

"You're not even trying just a little bit!" she wined.

"You may want to impress them, but I don't. They obviously like us for who we are otherwise they wouldn't have asked us to tour with them, not that looks have much to do with that kind of decision." My protests were in vain. She was still "disappointed in my wing woman skills".

As 6 o'clock drew ever nearer I grew more and more frustrated as she struggled to pick something.

"Okay, okay! Those high-waisted shorts, and the black and white striped top. Y'know, the clingy one? Makes your boobs AND your ass look good. Just wear your vans with that and add some red lipstick to your already beautiful face. Et voila!"

"Finally, some assistance!" she cheered as I watched her frantically get herself ready.

"Right, can we go now?" I was anxious enough about meeting new people, let alone world famous band members who had our career balancing in their hands.

"Yes, okay! Let's go," Gemma linked her arm in my own and dragged me out of the room and towards the elevator. In the silence of the tiny enclosed space I could hear my own nervous deep breaths. They echoed around my head, although they couldn't have actually been that loud. Still loud enough that Gemma could hear them, though...

"Hey," she tugged lightly on my elbow, "just video games and junk food, remember? Nothing to panic about." Her reassuring smile was one of the very few I actually trusted and I relaxed a little, forcing a smile on my perfectly ordinary lips.

The elevator dinged on the 8th floor and the doors pinged open revealing a corridor that looked identical to ours. I may have mistaken it for our floor if it wasn't for the obnoxiously sized "8" glowing at the end of the hallway instead of the "6" on our floor. Gemma once again tugged lightly on my arm to encourage me to move, and we stepped into the hall to find room 823. Of course, it was the last room down the hall. Gem knocked on the door and a slightly higher pitched voice than I had expected answered.