Unrequited

Chapter 6

I was lying on my stomach on a couch in my Mum’s room backstage at the O2 Arena. A TV mounted on the wall created a comfortable background noise while I flipped through a gossip magazine. Mum was in the adjoining bathroom getting ready. She was a lot calmer than I expected her to be, considering it was opening night of the tour. There was a knock at the door and Mum called out over the sound of the tap running. “Could you get that sweetheart?!”

I opened the door to two fifths of One Direction; Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson. “Ready for your big night?” I smiled.

“Erm, no just yet,” Louis replied. “We’ve got a bit of a wardrobe malfunction.”

“Oh, do you need me to get my mum?” I asked

“Nonononono!” Louis grabbed my arm as I turned to call Mum. “She’ll have a fit if she finds out!”

“Then why did you come to her room?”

“Well...after you told us what subjects you like doing at school...we figured you could handle a needle and thread...” Harry said slowly, measuring my reaction.

“Boys,” I groaned, “Don’t pull me into this!”

“Please, Charlotte! There’s no one else we can go to for help without getting our heads blown off,” Harry begged. I bit my lip.

“Mum?!” I called back into the room. Louis slapped a hand to his forehead and Harry looked like a kid just about to be told off for something he was already told not to do.

“Yeah?” she yelled back.

“I’ll be back in a little while okay? I’m going to get some food!”

“Alright!” she replied. Louis breathed a sigh of relief and I followed him and Harry down the hall to one of their dressing rooms. “You boys will owe me for this!”

“Anything for you madame,” said Louis, giving me a one-armed hug.

“What in God’s name were you doing!?” My eyes were wide as I surveyed the damage to a pair of none other than Harry’s pants. Who else?

There was a rip all the way up the inside of the leg from the knee, almost to the crotch.

“Him and Zayn were playing around like their usual idiotic selves,” explained Liam. Harry looked at me sheepishly. I sighed, shaking my head. “Because they’re already meant to be tight fitting pants, I’m worried if I stitch them up wrong you won’t be able to get them on.”

“Can’t you just try?” Harry pleaded. He was almost desperate.

“Surely there’s another bloody pair of pants you can wear, Harry!” I said.

“Well the wardrobe people haven’t exactly got their act together. Spares haven’t been brought in yet and they highly doubted we’d need back up outfits on the first night.”

I chewed on my lip some more. “Harry, if I sew the pants up and they don’t fit you, then what the hell are we going to do?” I asked him.

“Why don’t I put them on, then you sew them up?” 

I agreed before realising the awkwardness of the situation. He yanked off his Hollister sweat pants, leaving him in a t-shirt and briefs. “Sorry,” he chuckled, realising my expression. “A warning may be nice next time,” I said as he stepped into the ripped pair of pants. Things only got more awkward as he stood up and I knelt in front of him, fumbling around with the needle. I earned myself a few pricks - my hands were shaking a little and I had no idea why. I refused to look up at Harry because I could just feel the look of plain amusement on his face. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I felt a little intimidated by him. My cheeks burned as I moved the stitches up his thigh. Louis appeared to be watching TV but I knew he could feel the increasingly uncomfortable tension in the room, only made more awkward by Harry’s and my silence. I pretended my lack of conversation was due to my unfaltering concentration on the task in front of me. Louis turned around. “Watch where you’re putting that needle love,” he laughed.