Rising Stars [H.S]

3.

My voice fucking cracked.

I was singing the last big note, in my last show of my huge fucking tour, and my voice cracked. It was horrible. The worst thing that could've possible happened. There were going to be videos all over social media by tomorrow morning of me embarrassing myself.

As soon as the lights go out, I rush off stage and hurry to my dressing room.

I don't really care that it happened, I was just embarrassed. I was I could end this tour with an awesome high note and leave like a badass but instead it totally went the wrong way.

I slip off my dress and once again put on some more comfortable clothes. It still hasn't hit me that tour is officially over now, it still feels like I am going to have to wake up at 5:00 tomorrow and get on another tour bus.

I slip on some black nike shorts and just a plain pink tee and throw my hair up in a pony tail. Usually I would invite some fans back stage to talk to them, but tonight I am not in the mood. I just wanted to go home and sleep.

My whole argument with Dylan ruined my day. I have absolutely no idea why he was so upset. Not to mention, he was getting really angry. It wouldn't have been that bad if he just talked to me about it, but he was yelling at me. I don't like people who yell, it overwhelms me to the point where I can't even focus.

As I am slipping on some sneakers and putting my dress back on it's coat hanger, I hear a loud knock on my door.

"Who is it?" I ask, still struggling to get the straps of my dress on the hanger.

No answer.

I ask again.

No answer.

I assume they just went away so I continue my packing until I hear the knock again. Damn why don't they just tell me who it is. I hope it's not Dylan, I don't want to see him right now.

I rush through my crowded messy dressing room, heading towards the door. I unlock it and open it up about an inch, just to peak through and see who it was.

At my eye level all I saw was a black t-shirt, and a tall muscular frame. I slowly look up to see two piercing green eyes staring down at me.

Harry Styles.

Why the hell is he here.

"Oh my gosh! I wasn't expecting you." I say, frantically running around my dressing room and picking up trash and clothes from previous shows.

"Gosh I didn't know you were coming to the show tonig-" I suddenly trip over my suitcase, falling straight on my ass. Way to go, Olivia.

"Oh gosh, sorry I am just- sorry I- what are you doing here?" I say, quickly getting up back on my feet and looking at him standing in the doorway.

He still hasn't said a word, he was just staring at me, propped up against the door frame. He was tall, probably 5 or 6 inches taller than me. His hair was slicked back, but still messy looking. He was wearing a black t-shirt that fit him perfectly, and black jeans.

"Is your ass ok?" He asks, with a deep english accent.

"W-what?" I say, staring at him from across the room in confusion.

"You just fell straight on your ass." He says, reminding me of what just happened.

"Oh right. Um, yeah it's ok- shit sorry, I should probably introduce myself." I walk over to him, carefully stepping over the suitcase this time, and come face to face with him, holding my hand out.

"I'm Olivia Thomson." I say, holding my hand out for him to shake.

"I know who you are." He says, walking past me and into my dressing room, leaving me in the door way with my hand out like an idiot.