Pinky | Harry Styles

End?

I walked through the door of Anne-Marie's dressing room to go track down her outfit and almost collided with a girl, who quite frankly looked like she was having some sort of existential crisis. Before I could ask if she was okay she had scurried off down the hallway. It was crowded. It seemed the number of people in this tiny backstage area had quadrupled since we'd came in. I weaved my way through the bodies as I focussed on finding my client and friend's custom dress. She'd agreed to do this show as a personal favour to me and I felt bad that somebody had misplaced it. It was a benefit to raise money for a Women's Shelter, temporary accommodation where they could aid women to escape their abuser. After watching my Dad knock seven shades of shit out my Mum for a good chunk of my childhood, I knew how important it was that they learn the skills necessary to break the cycle.

"I can't believe he's here!" A female voice exclaimed as I fought my way by a group huddled tightly together.

"I know. You know he requested to play tonight?" Another chimed in.

"Oh! Really? That's so sweet of him." A new voice added, and I couldn't help rolling my eyes. So much for promoting women's strength by having an all female line up. I moved away from the group as quickly as I could and felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders when I spotted the distinctive purple garment bag that Anne-Marie liked to use. It was hanging on a clothes rail outside one of the other dressing rooms so I walked over to retrieve it. This must be the 'man of the hours' rail as there are a few suit options hanging here. Expensive ass suits. I found my eyes being drawn to one outfit in particular. A pair of white, wide leg trousers and a pink silk shirt, with birds embroidered on the chest. My fingers brushed over the silk material before I even realised what I was doing. The feeling made me think of the silk bondage ropes I had at home, my current favourites. Fuck! I needed to get laid.

"Hi, can I help you?" A male voice asked, and I almost jumped out of my skin.

"My client's outfit seems to have ended up on this rail by accident." I replied calmly and swept the outfit I'd been admiring aside as if that's what I had been doing all along. I plucked the garment bag from the rail and spun around to head back to the dressing room and came face to face with Jeffrey Azoff.

"Oh. I'm sorry about that." He smiled.

"S'alright. I doubt it was your fault. I'm Lily." I shrugged as I held out my hand. These things happened all the time.

"Well no, but I think Harry has some people rather distracted. Jeffrey." He nodded to the group of women who'd been freaking out earlier as he shook my hand.

"Again not exactly your fault." I smiled at him.

"Do you wanna say hi? I'm sure Harry would like to see you again." His change of topic threw me. Harry had only crossed my mind once since our New Year kiss, two months ago, and that was the night I woke myself up orgasming over a dream I had about him being in my bed.

"It's okay. I don't think we actually said hi the last time." I replied. I mean it wasn't like we were friends or anything.

"Fair enough." Jeffrey shrugged and with that we went our separate ways. I couldn't help having one last glance at that pink shirt though, maybe I could find some ropes in that colour? That would be pretty.

...

I bobbed along to the music from the side of the stage as Anne-Marie sang Perfect to Me. This was the last of her three song set and my personal favourite. I loved the line, "I'll love who I wanna love, cause this love is gender-free", it's how I'd felt about my sexuality for as long as I could remember. I felt so proud of her.

"I love this song. Gotta admit I'm kinda nervous about following her. She sounds incredible." His gravely voice spoke into my ear. He smelled nice, like warm jasmine and chamomile. I liked the juxtaposition of the more feminine fragrance mixed with what I assumed to be his natural musky scent.