chapter nineteen.

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holy grail.

holy grail

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Shaylynn had ended up scheduling a photoshoot in the middle of Myra's tour. Instead of enjoying the day off she had been promised she was instead painted in makeup and put in front of a camera.

She planned to stay in the hotel and call Michael. She did miss him and she hasn't had a chance to have a real talk with him. Occasionally they managed to squeeze in a five minute talk before Myra had to go to bed or leave for another show.

Myra felt beyond exhausted but it was hidden with makeup. Singing on stage with the choreography added on was more tiring than it seemed. Even Shaylynn noticed how tired she looked and made sure to have it end earlier than it was supposed to. It would be terrible for a star to collapse two days before her next show.

"Okay Myra, move your chin up a little and a little to the side," the man behind the camera directed her and she followed. She held the pose while he snapped a couple photos.

Through the corner of her eye she saw Shaylynn her dragged away. She didn't have a long amount of time to wonder why for she recieved new instructions.

"What is it?" Shaylynn asked impatiently, her eyes wandering back to Myra.

"Michael just called and said hes coming by. Make sure Myra doesn't find out because he wants it to be a surprise," one of the workers informed Myra's manager who nodded.

"Okay," she agreed before she returned to Myra.

Myra hated the outfit she had been put in. The pants felt too high-waisted and the sleeves on the shirt went past her fingers. Every so often she had to pull them up but they slid back down. The heels made her feet ache but she put up with it.

"For this shot Myra you need to back all the way against the wall," he directed and she followed. "One arm over your head kind of lazily and look to the side. Keep your other arm to your side and lean just a little bit. Perfect."

The camera snaps were the only noise in the room. Other than that it was faint footsteps or a pen scribbling on paper. Most of the attention was on Myra.

She was put in pose after pose. She was sat on the floor for some pictures or she stood. In one idea she found bad was that she kneeled. It only made her knee feel like it was giving up and was about to quit.

A small yawn passed Myra's mouth as she adjusted her body. She pushed some hair from her face. Each photo seemed to take forever and the longer it took the less time she got to relax before her next show.

She soon got to a point where she no longer felt part of her legs. They moved to the instructions on their own, guiding the rest of her body. They felt as though they had a mind of their own.

Finally it was announced that it was over. Myra was taken to change out of the outfit. She put it back on the hanger and happily traded it for her previous outfit - a pair of sweatpants with a shirt her parents bought her during their vacation but a size too big with a pair of sneakers. She brought along a sweatshirt just in case.

While Myra was changing Michael had arrived. He wore a red button down with black pants and the same loafery style shoes. He didn't wear the glasses he would normally wear.

"Myra should be out in a second. She had to change," Shaylynn informed the star who only nodded.

Myra soon came out wearing the sweatshirt. Her arms were tucked inside, the sleeves dangling by her sides moving with each step.

"Shaylynn, you ready to go?" Myra asked, not really paying attention.

She didn't realize Michael was standing there for a few seconds. First she was shocked because he was supposed to be back at home. She also realized how much like trash she actually looked.

The two hugged, Myra poking her arms back in her sleeves. Michael let out a soft laugh.

"Why are you here?" She asked, her head laying on his chest.

"I wanted to surprise you. Besides, you look like you need to go to sleep," Michael commented and Myra made a noise of agreement.

The two left the building for the car parked outside. They sat in the backseat, Myra leaning on Michael with her arms back in her sweatshirt.

Not even halfway to the hotel it was obvious Myra had fallen asleep. Michael carefully moved her so her head lay on his lap. Her hair had fallen over her eyes as her chest rose and fell as she slept.

He carried her inside, careful to avoid smacking her head on the doorway. He put her on the bed, covering her with the comforter. Michaelnlaid beside her and shut his eyes, and soon found himself asleep.

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