totally okay |lrh|

0.8

"Well, we're not," I say. The words send a strange sort of ache through my chest.

"See, Luke, you say that, and I believe you. But the fans—well, they're harder to convince."

I frown. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that maybe you should...take it easy with this girl."

I frown even further. "Meaning?"

"Meaning—Luke, can I be blunt with you?"

"Sure, Mr. Norris."

"Well, then I guess what I mean to say is—don't date this girl. In fact, it'd be best if you stopped seeing her altogether, now that I—"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Norris," I interrupt, "but you want me to do what?"

"You have to understand how important appearances are in this business, Luke," Mr. Norris says. "And for you to even look like you might possibly have a girlfriend, let alone if you actually had one—well, it's bad for the morale of the fans. And the morale of the fans needs to stay up so they stay interested in the band, and buy merchandise, and you five still have a career. See what I mean?"

"But we've all had girlfriends before. It's never been a problem."

"Well, things are different now, aren't they?" Mr. Norris says in an overly-patient tone. "You four are in America now. American fans don't like it when their favorite pop stars have girlfriends. And Aussie fans don't like it when pop stars from their home turf date American girls."

"But—"

"Listen, Luke, there really isn't much to discuss here. Don't date her. Try not to see her at all. Okay?"

"She's my friend," I say, frowning even more. "I'm not just going to dump her because you say so." Bad word choice. That makes it sound like you really are dating.

"Then be discreet about it, for heaven's sake," Mr. Norris says. "Don't get photographed with her again, and don't let her distract you from your work. Your career is the most important thing right now. Don't throw it away for some girl whose name you won't even remember a year from now."

My hand clenches around my phone.
"Thanks for the advice, Mr. Norris, I'll keep it in mind," I say through clenched teeth. I hang up the phone, my blood pounding so loud in my ears that I almost don't hear Calum ask, "What was that all about?"

"That was Management," I say, my teeth still clenched, "telling me to stay away from Indie."

"What? Why?"

"Because it's bad for our image." I can't help the angry edge that creeps into my voice.

"Let me guess," Ashton says. "You're not going to listen to them?"

"Nope," I say. "I'm not."

"Luke, you're going to get yourself in trouble," says Michael.

"I'll be careful, alright?" I say, trying not to snap at him. Why doesn't anybody get it? I'm not just going to drop Indie because Management says so. I haven't even known her for a week, but she already means far more to me than that.

Indies POV,,

Madame Bircher sighs very loudly as I fall during the twenty-fifth fouette. "Again, Indie."

The command might as well be a death sentence. Every square inch of my body feels like it's on fire; the bruised parts—my back, my arms, my stomach, my face—scream in protest to the extreme exercise I'm putting them through. I knew from the moment I woke up this morning that it was going to be a rough rehearsal; even after sleeping for eleven hours, my whole body felt stiff and sore from the impact of my dad's angry hands on my skin. It doesn't help that it's nearly a hundred degrees out today and I'm wearing a long-sleeved navy blue shirt over my leotard—the bruises on my back and arms were far too obvious to cover up with makeup; as it is, I practically had to paint my face with foundation to hide my black eye.
I put my feet in fifth position and force my aching back to straighten. Sweat drips down from my forehead and drops silently to the floor. I try not to pull at the sleeves of my shirt. Evie and the other girls have already given me plenty of grief about wearing it; I don't need to draw any more attention to myself. At least there are only two minutes left in rehearsal. Then all the girls will leave and I'll be able to ice my muscles a bit and wipe some of the sweat from my face before Luke gets here.