"They still write poems about you, you know?"
He looked at me strangely, "Why?"
I shrugged, "You are a tragedy, people love to dwell on those."
He smiled to himself, "There is nothing tragic about grasping what you want... even if it's only for a mo...
The night was dead silent. The only thing that could be heard was sound of crickets hovering around the lamp-post and her pencil heels going 'tick-tock' on the pavement. For a normal girl, it would've been far too dangerous to be walking alone in a deserted street in the middle of Beverly Hills. Pair that with her scantily clothed body and the luscious curves and it would be a sin.
If it were in broad day-light, she'd have men shamelessly ogling her body, wolf-whistling and what not, but it was almost 2am... the roads were empty, without a single soul to notice her and her vixen-like physique. One would think she'd be glad of the seclusion; but actually, it was far from it.
As her heels clicked on the paved road, she walked along the narrow street and into a bigger one, a brighter one, with colorful hoardings glowing on the buildings. Beverly Hills, as they say, always welcomes everyone with open arms, has a place for everyone. This city always had a place for her, ever since she stepped here as a skinny, awkward teenager.
As she made her way to her usual spot, she ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it all to the right. Running a hand over the material of the dress, pulling the part that covered her chest slightly lower and standing straighter, she sauntered over to the other side. Hips swaying in a manner that could make men weak at their knees, eyes holding challenge, desire and lust... with her hip sticking out to the side and one hand on the other hip she adjusts the strap of her bag ready for whatever or whoever awaits her.
She was confident, knew she wouldn't have to wait too long before a ride would stop before her, roll the windows down and take her with him. And she was right. It had been barely five minutes; the goose-bumps from the chilly night had barely gotten to her before a shiny silver Mesarati Ghibli stopped before her. She pretended to be un-interested, like this wasn't what she was waiting for, like this wasn't what she wanted.
That's what men crave, isn't it? Forbidden fruit is always the sweetest.
The black tinted window slowly dragged down and she threw a quick glance to the driver before looking elsewhere again. Sighing inwardly and thanking the heavens for not letting it be a forty-five year old pot-bellied man with a balding head, looking for some action. From what she saw, he wasn't that bad of a looker, maybe around his late thirties, but she wouldn't have to close her eyes and pretend she's somewhere else.
"Are you Suzy?" The man asked, an elbow hanging off the edge of the window as he looked at her.
"Who's asking?" She asked back, raising an eye-brow mockingly.
His eyes raked up and down her body, the scandalous tank-top showing her skin just at the right places and the black high-waisted shorts that ravished her bronzed up legs, he couldn't wait for those long legs to be wrapped around his waist as he worked his way into her. He knew he was in for a treat.
"I don't know about the asking bit, but I do know I'm paying." He answered with a smug grin. He lent his elbows on the window, head sticking out a bit. "What's say darling? You in for a sexy night?"
She gave him a lopsided grin, tongue playing with the mint gum in her mouth. "You in for an expensive night?"
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His hands were shaking. The nerves getting the best of him. No matter how many times he did it, he still felt as nervous and anxious as the first.
He looked to his right to find Louis just as nervy as him, if not more. Their eyes met and he gave him a smile before looking away, talking about god knows what with another overly-anxious Liam.
"This has got to be good, yeah mate?" Niall's nails were non-existent due to the extensive biting. He was adjusting the guitar strap, tuning it out.
Oh how he was going to miss this; this pre-stage anxiety, talking to his band-mates before each show.
He could hear them even before he saw them.
Each shout. Each scream. Each cry.
Their raw emotions shook him to the core, sending chills down his spine like a crack of thunder.
He could feel the eminent goosebumps as he ran his fingers through his thick and long curls, looking up at the only other three people who knew the feeling he had in the moment. Maybe the pressure was worse on him, but they knew.
He squeezed his fists shut... then open again... then shut...
The anticipation would never grow old and he loved it. He lived off of it.
He had heard the awful stories. The, 'enjoy it while it lasts, kid, it's all downhill from here.' He believed them then, every word of it. About five years had passed and here he stood, on top of the world. It never happened.
"Here's to a fucking good show, yeah?"
Liam's voice was as nervy as everyone else's. He received a chuckle from everyone, a few pats on the back. But the nerves were the only thing that was present as they put our hands together.
The final signal was given as a loud pop erupted, the crowd going wild before they even arrived.
The extra rowdiness was expected, it was the last show after all. It was the last show of the OTRA tour, the last concert before their break or hiatus, as he liked to call it. The lads gave their hundred percent on the stage. Singing, dancing, going crazy. They tried their best to soak it all in, to interact with as many fans as they could. They were all overwhelmed today; from the four singers to the techies to the managers. Today had to be special, something they'd remember till the time they'd be back.
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And there you have it. I'm a bit nervous on how the story will turn out. Let's hope for the best.
