The Godbrothers (1D Fiction)

6. Sparks

*Camilla POV*

The meeting was in a warehouse somewhere away from the extremely busy part of the city, which surprised me. I had expected a posh office or studio, but I guessed they needed somewhere private to maneuver in that would serve as a pretend stage for the time being.

It seemed like the whole place was pretty busy with the whole design team, stage team, management, and a few random people.

As soon as I had arrived there with Paul and the boys, though, they were whisked away to do one thing or another. So I mostly sat by myself in the few rows of chairs that stood before the mock stage, trying to keep out of everyone’s way.

Louis came by to check on me a few times, and I reassured him that I was fine. Everyone seemed to be desperately bustling around that I wanted nothing to do with keeping one fifth of One Direction distracted.

Although, it wasn’t exactly just Louis that was slightly distracted by my presence.

Every so often, while the design team maneuvered the boys on the stage, Harry would throw me a smile. Or Zayn would make a weird-ass face at me.

It was during the middle of when the boys were running through “I Want” that Niall actually tripped over Louis’s feet after I caught him looking at me when I raised my gaze away from my text messages.

“Maybe we should move you,” Paul suggested, but not in a mean way.

It seemed that he too had noticed the boys’ lack of focus. But I kept telling myself it couldn’t have completely been due to me.

Paul led me to the design team’s table, tucked more toward the side of the stage and away from the direct view of the boys. He remained for a while, trying to help the former assistant lighting designer (now head lighting designer because Jessica couldn’t be on tour anymore) who was frantically trying to piece together the scattered notes retrieved from first drafts and what remained of the car crash.

“Wish I could help her more,” Paul whispered to me, half sympathetic and half amused at Caroline who was literally pulling at her hair at this point. “But it all looks like gibberish to me.”

I laughed, taking a few papers from Paul’s hands with the lighting cues on them. It was a lot fancier and more complex than anything I had worked with in UCLA’s theatre, but at least I could comprehend the notes.

“No, no, wait!” Caroline called out to the stage crew and the boys. “That light goes on Liam! He’s the one singing for Christ’s sake! And what are you doing with the fog machine? It’s supposed to point that way or else it’s going to burn Harry’s right nut off!”

I blinked at the vulgarity of the woman, her accent a bit different from a typical British one.

Liam blinked and put his hand to cover his eyes as a much too intense, discolored light shone directly at him. The light that had previously been on Zayn dimmed. Harry’s eyes grew wide, and he covered his crotch with both his hands.

“Please excuse her language,” Paul said, also holding back a laugh. “She’s under a lot of stress.”

As Caroline and the other designers continued to bark commands at the crew and the band members, I flipped through the pages in my hands.

They were beautifully sketched out and marked up, with some brilliant lighting ideas. The blocking for the boys was a little stiff, with nothing but changes in formation. But then again, I wasn’t sure if any of the five guys could actually dance.

“Let’s go through Up All Night,” Caroline said now.

The give guys changed formation for the start of the song, and the poppy beat began. It wasn’t a bad song, I found myself surprised to admit. And that cute little thrust Harry was doing in his part made it hard for me to hold back a smile.