Getting Along

1. Prologue

O2 arena, Peninsula Square, London United Kingdom

“Niall, we need to get back to rehearsal.” Henry said for the fourth time. “At lease for another hour.”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” I mumbled, but still stayed in my place on the couch in my dressing room. Henry groaned behind me but I heard him walk away, getting the supporting acts to get rehearsal time on stage before me. Harry shook his head at me, having already gotten his set done.

“You’re wasting time.” He said, kicking his shoes off and putting a foot up on the couch. “Could’ve had it over with by now—then you could watch this at your own flat.”

“Shh,” I mumbled. It was utterly ridiculous that they expected me to rehearse during the last couple minutes of the first game of the World Cup. They could wait another ten minutes—it won’t kill them. Ireland was playing first, so obviously I wasn’t going to miss this for anything.

“Ireland’s going to lose Niall…” Lora muttered as she plopped on the couch next to me. I ripped my eyes from the TV screen to glare at her as I moved away.

“Don’t you have someone’s hair to do?”

“I’m waiting for you.”

I rolled my eyes, and looked back to the TV. “In a minute,” She chuckled but settled herself and soon, finally, everyone else’s eyes were glued to the screen which means they were quiet. I glanced at Lora, snickering at her freshly blonde hair. She dyed it because she lost a bet with my personal bodyguard Boyd (or ‘security guy’ rather, because he didn’t like being called a bodyguard), about something or another. The two of them always made weird bets that I could never keep up with—they’re like a couple of kids. It was always entertaining to see what the punishment was though, mainly because I wasn’t the one that had to do it.

“OOOH!” Harry shouted, bringing my attention back to the TV. Germany was about to score and I could feel my skin beginning to melt off.

“OH NOOO!” I put my hands over my face, peaking at the TV through the cracks in my fingers.This can’t be happening. My whole life flashed before my eyes as number eight kicked the ball in the net from the corner. I rolled off the couch and laid flat on my stomach.

“This is the end of me.” I muffled against the floor. “I’m finished.”

Lora poked her shoe into my shoulder, “Get up off the floor! That’s disgusting.”

“I’m dead.”

“It’s just a football game, for heaven’s sake!” She giggled. “Get up so I can do your hair.” I groaned but eventually got up and followed her to the styling chair only a few meters behind the couch. The only reason I had to get my hair spiked up for a rehearsal is because Harry and I have a radio/video interview in about three hours. We were getting back into the swing of tour season after having off since March. It was now June and Harry and I were about to start our third tour, first world tour, for my third album and his second.

He started off as a supporting act, but once the first tour ended I talked the label into adding Harry in. It was nice to have someone around with me almost twenty-four/seven who knew me before my whole life changed. He helped me stay grounded, even though I never really had a real problem with that. It was especially helpful to have him around during the last tour, because I really didn’t like our supporting act—Harry kept the peace during those eight months.

“There’s gum in your hair!” Lora gasped.

“WHAT!”

“I’m just kidding,” she laughed. “But it could happen if you keep lying on floor.”

I rolled my eyes, “That was ages ago and you’re still talking about it?” She smirked but started brushing through my hair and blow drying it, though it was already dry. I preferred that she used the blow dryer instead of the flatiron though—flatirons made me feel girly. She stuck her tongue out at me and I made a face at her in response. We chuckled and kept the immature goofing around until she was finished with me.

“Thanks Lora,” I said as I looked in the mirror, though she always did the same thing—which I liked. “You always make me look good.”

“Yeah, it’s hard work.” She mumbled. I laughed and kissed her on the cheek before going to sit on the couch again. I accidently got hypnotized by the TV again as the highlights of the game played. Minutes later a commercial came on, showing a foggy forest I think—it was weird so I looked at Harry, seeing he was just as locked on the telly as I was ten minutes ago.

His face suddenly fell, “Oh my god.” He muttered glancing at me then back to the TV. I frowned and looked to see what had him so shocked. The girl in the TV spun around, her hair swinging in a circle and immediately my jaw nearly hit the floor when I realized it was a Pantene commercial…and it was Hunter’s hair being shown off.

If I’d had a drink, I would’ve sprayed it all over everything. Since when was Hunter in commercials? Since when was she a hair model? When did she start wearing lipstick?! It’s been five years since I’ve seen or spoken to her…and this is how we meet again—with her staring at me through the TV as someone says how good the shampoo was? I still couldn’t get over the fact that she was even on the TV…let alone the fact that I didn’t know how to feel about it. Honestly, I was just in shock.

“Don’t let the weather hold you back.” Holy shit, she’s talking. She sounds the same. My heart all but stopped as it got another shot of her looking right into the camera. It felt like she was really looking at me, but I couldn’t tell what she was trying to say with her eyes. Her eyes were usually so easy to read…but now it was like looking at a brick wall—a hot brick wall. Wow, she looked good…

“New, Pantene—”

“Alright, c’mon Niall.” Henry’s voice suddenly spoke over Hunter’s making me miss what she said.

“SHUT UP!” I shouted. Everyone in the room was suddenly quiet but the commercial was already over and she was gone. I looked at Harry again. His eyes were wide like he was waiting for me to do something. I looked around at everyone else and all eyes were on me.

Blushing, I stood up and wiped my sweating hands on my shorts, “Ready Henry?”

“Uh…yeah…”

“Should we get you Pantene so you can have nice hair like Hunter Tomlinson?” Lora teased. I glanced at Harry then back to Lora. People say her first and last name? People know her? “You seemed entranced!”

“You know her?”

She raised an eyebrow, “Who doesn’t?”

“Uh—” Shit; do I tell them I used to date her? What if they ask why we broke up?

How did I not know she was known?! Have I really been that wrapped up in my own life?

“Niall! C’mon!” Henry said sternly—turning into that take-no-crap father figure role that he sometimes had to be. I gladly rushed out of the room, glancing back at Harry again, thankful for an escape. Forgetting my hair was just done, I nervously ran a hand through it in an attempt to focus myself.

But it was no use. I was already distracted.

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