(Sorta long note in the beginning, but it's relevant LOL)
Happy Valentine's Day!!!! I hope y'all are okay with being my valentines if that's okay (:
Treat yourself today whether it's with your favorite food or playing your favorite music <3
Also I've been getting so many comments in early chapters saying aven this and aven that & I'm just over here like "bro I wrote this in 2015 what do u want me to say??" there's no way I copied any ideas from the future trust me LMAOOO
but regardless I know it's all in good fun & nobody's saying it to be mean or anything. I just can't reply to every single comment, so imma just make that clear now that I haven't read Duplicity nor did I know anything about it until ppl started commenting, but shout out to main character photographers hahahah
ANYWAYS enjoy this one (;
Norah
Things were going well.
Until they weren't.
Kacey's set was perfect. The crowd was living for her. Show openers oftentimes had to face a disinterested audience that was only waiting for the show-runner to come out. But not Kacey Musgraves. The crowd loved her. She got more praise and attention than some headliners did at their own show.
I couldn't help but mumble the lyrics to her songs and follow along with the crowd when Kacey asked them to yell and sing back to her. I was having a blast.
There was a small box right in front of the stage created by barricades where I stood with my back to the arena. Here, I had fans on either side or me rather than just behind me. After she finished her last song, I moved to the far right of the stage to get a shot with both her and the crowd in it. When the set was over, she waved, promising she'd be back on her own tour and walked off stage. I stayed a little longer as the arena lights turned on.
"You work with her?"
I looked up from my camera to see an arena security guard had approached me. He looked a little older than me with blonde hair and dark brown eyes. He had an inviting smile on his face, telling me he was probably going to start flirting.
"I do."
"She's great."
"She is."
"I bet you're pretty great, too, then."
I politely laughed. "I am. Do you want to see?" I gestured to my camera. He nodded.
I turned so my back was to the stage and moved to stand next to him. I had no problem showing off my work and just how dope Kacey was. Some praise definitely wasn't something I'd mind getting either. I scrolled through and showed him around five or six shots.
His Texas drawl became more prominent when he spoke. "These are awesome. They look edited already."
I looked up to meet his eyes—something I'd been working on lately. "Thanks. They have a bit more editing to go through and they'll look even better than that."
"Damn, so do you ha—"
My attention flickered out to the crowd at the sound of my name. I didn't know why I was so hyperaware of it, especially with the arena being so loud, and hell, Norah wasn't the most uncommon name ever, but subconsciously, I knew the likelihood of me—Norah—being at Harry Styles' concert hearing my name, it probably meant I needed to get the hell out of there.
I heard it again, and this time, saw the girl—or girls—my name was coming from. Recognition flashed in their eyes.
"Sorry, I have to go." I looked back to the security guard. "It was nice meeting you..."
"Quinn," he filled in. "And it was nice to meet you, too, Miss..."
"Baker," I said quietly tonight that I was sure no one could hear over the music. "Norah Baker."
He winked and sent me a perfect smile. "You coming out when the next guy gets on?"
Definitely fucking not.
I took a step backwards and lifted my heel to take another. "Nope. Kacey's the only one who pays me."
He stepped towards me. "Well, can I get your number now since I can't get it later?"
My eyes caught on his fingers looped into his belt loops and I paused my retreat, continuing the brief perusal. He wasn't normally someone I was attracted to. Sure, he was attractive, but he gave me very...boring American boy vibes.
Not everything has to turn into a relationship, I reminded myself. You can have some fun on tour.
I pursed my lips together and dipped my chin down ever so slightly. "I'll find you later," I decided. God knew I'd need a distraction tonight. Maybe getting under someone would be best.
"Will you?"
I worked to meet his daring stare. "Maybe."
I turned around, but only got a couple strides away when something struck me in the eye, followed by a wet splatter on my face and clothes. My left eye burned with a sharp sting.
Then all hell broke loose.
Loud gasps and calls of surprise sporadically erupted in the crowd, some coming from those nearest to me in the pit and others from those elsewhere in the arena with a view. A cup on the ground signaled to me it was a drink someone threw. It was a cheap plastic which explained the cut that was surely behind the stinging at the corner of my eye. Whatever was inside of it definitely wasn't water because of how horribly my actual eye stung.
I looked up to see Quinn was shouting at someone in the crowd at the barricade. He was pointing his finger, looking pretty pissed. But I didn't want to be the reason why someone got kicked out of Harry's concert before he'd even come on.
I walked up to Quinn, ignoring how I was letting everyone get a very good look at me and put a hand on his arm. "It's fine. It was an accident."
His eyes were hard, but exuded confusion. He and I both knew that a drink flying at me with enough precision to hit me in the eye was in no way a mistake, but I hoped I was making it clear enough that I didn't want to make it a big deal.
"They—"
"It's fine. Just let it go," I pleaded. "Please."
The pause of silence from Quinn gave way to voices directly in front of us.
"Oh my god, it is her."
"Why is she here?"
"She looks so different, but it has to be her."
"Holy shit, it's Norah."
Skepticism marred Quinn's features, but he dipped his head in acknowledgement. With that crisis semi-averted, my mind honed in on the pain in my eye. I wasn't sure anymore if the burning in was from the drink or from embarrassment or from anger.
I thanked him with a look. As I walked away, I heard the sound of plastic crack against the cement floor and wetness exploded at the back of my ankles. Quinn's voice called out again. Great, someone else threw a drink at me.
Forget it. If they wanted to get themselves in trouble after I tried to save their asses, that's on them.
Puzzled stares met me backstage. There weren't too many people running around quite yet. It normally turned to chaos about five minutes before someone went on, but there were enough crew members to recognize my disheveled appearance and send me questioning looks. Half of my body was sticky and wet, and while my black top didn't look too disturbed, my face and wet hair surely showed all the evidence. I kept a small smile on my face to keep anyone from coming up to ask any questions. Not that they would. I didn't know many people here yet. Only a few from Kacey's team. Either way, I hoped it just looked like someone played a prank on me or something.
I stuck close to the wall and hurried to the bathroom to check out the damage.
Sure enough, there was a small cut on the outside corner of my eye about a half an inch long. I dabbed a wet paper towel over it to wipe off the already dried blood. My eyeliner and mascara of that eye were smudged, but my makeup bag was back in Kacey's dressing room, so I couldn't fix that mess.
My radio beeped to life on my right hip. It had been spared from the assault. "Baker? You okay? I heard there was an altercation with the pit?"
I unclipped the device and pressed the button to speak. "No—" My voice was weak and breaking. I cleared my throat and tried again. "No altercation. Someone...some fans just got a little excited. I'm just cleaning up in the bathroom."
This sucked. No one understood what actually happened except me. Maybe Kacey if I told her. There was no one I could run to to explain my woes. How was I to explain how some people who called themselves fans of my ex-boyfriend hated my guts enough to throw drinks at me? I didn't even want to think about the repercussions of tonight. About what those fans might be putting on social media, or if there were any videos or pictures taken. I blamed myself. I wasn't careful enough. I was doing just fine until—what?—I decided to let some security guard try to pick me up while the lights were up and everyone's attention was faced forward?
Stupid.
The door to the bathroom burst open and I jumped back from the mirror.
It was Kacey, still in her sparkly leotard and knee high boots. Her eyes were tight and worried. She opened her palms out in front of her in a questioning gesture. "What in Sam's hell happened to you?"
I shook my head and turned back to look at myself in the mirror. "It was..." Don't lie. Tell the truth, Norah. You need to tell someone. "Some people recognized me."
"Oh boy. There's a lot to this ex-boyfriend story, isn't there?" she asked lowly.
I nodded.
She grabbed a piece of paper towel from the dispenser and wetted it under water before coming up to me. She dabbed some more over the cut.
"Are you okay?"
"Kind of..."
"What can I do to help?"
I laughed humorlessly. "You're a really good person, Kacey." Hell, this woman just got off the stage ten minutes ago and I was probably interrupting her post-set high, but still she wanted to help.
"So are you," she returned simply. She wiped off the eyeliner from both of my eyes to make them look more even. "Why'd you tell Cam nothing happened?"
"I can't just go over the radio and say that some fans attacked me because Harry's my ex, now can I?" I winced at my sarcasm, but Kacey only laughed at me.
"I guess you have a point there." She finished wiping away the black smeared mess. "So, what happens now?"
My shoulders lifted and fell. Her calming presence and simple words helped immensely in keeping me together. "I hope that no videos or pictures were taken and I'm not trending on Twitter where Harry or his team will find out."
"You won't be."
She stood with me for another minute or so while I washed off my sticky arms in the sink. My knock-off black Doc Martens fared just fine, so I didn't bother washing those off.
"Can I ask you another question?" She leaned against the sink and crossed her arms over her chest.
I tossed the paper towels in the trash."Yeah."
"Why'd you think no one would recognize you? If you're...notable enough for his fans to dislike?"
That was a heavy one. "A lot happened between the time of us breaking up and now. The night we broke up...I'd also made my Instagram account public for the first time, so thousands flooded in my comments to tell me how they really felt about me. Shortly after that, the news broke that we broke up, so things only got infinitely worse. I eventually just deleted the whole account."
I took a deep breath. "Then some other stuff happened. I changed my last name. It used to be Gates and now it's Baker. I dyed my hair darker and cut it different. Learned to do makeup. My new Instagram account is solely dedicated to photography and the name is different so no one would be able to connect me to it unless they knew I was your photographer. Which might happen now. But all in all, there's really not a lot connected to the me I was when I was with him. Except the hatred some of his fans have for me is still there, and I've gotten much further in my photography career."
"Would it be the end of the world if Harry found out you were here?"
"Probably."
She laughed again. And rather than it making me feel stupid about my predicament, it made it feel like it was all more manageable than I was making it out to be.
"I don't think it will be."
I hummed my discontent.
"Do you see yourself getting back together with him?"
Distant memories of old feelings flooded to the surface. Of me getting healthier—mentally and physically—and Harry and I finding our way back to each other, stronger than ever before, and jumping right back into things because we were meant for each other. I couldn't imagine anybody else treating me as well as he had. Loving me like he had.
But that was all they were. Memories of feelings I used to have. Sure, I still thought I loved him, but that past hope of us meeting again...believing in the 'right person, wrong time' phenomenon...it was all dwindling away.
"I don't think so. I think we're both very different people. Too much has happened."
"That's a bummer."
"Yeah...I'm sorry I burdened you with all this. You get back to having fun. I'll just go clean up some more in your dressing room if you don't mind."
"No problem. And I wanted to make sure my friend was okay. But what should I tell him?"
My brows shot up. "Tell who?"
"I was talking with Harry when I heard you on the radio. You said you were in the bathroom, so I went to find you."
"Did Harry hear me on the radio?"
She nodded. "He asked me who Baker was."
"Oh my god, Kace! Why didn't you tell me this in the beginning?! What did you say back?"
"I said you were my friend. I didn't say your first name at all. I promise."
"So, why would you need to tell him anything else?"
"Well, he was curious about the altercation, of course. It involved his fans in the front pit after all. I just don't want him asking around."
Damn it. I wasn't sure there was any way around him finding out the truth if he snooped around. Someone from his team would go searching on social media and find something. There were definitely rumors flying already.
"Hey, never mind." Kacey touched a hand to my arm. "That's a later issue. Everything is going to work out. Just head to the room. You know the passcode to the keypad, right?"
I did. I thanked her profusely again, but she just took my arm with a roll of her eyes and steered us to the exit. We exited the bathroom, her turning left down the hall, back to the main backstage area, and I went to the right where all the dressing rooms were.
For the first time, I noticed Kacey's dressing room was located right across from Harry's. How I could've missed the small piece of paper with his name scribbled on it, I have no idea. A shiver coursed through my body at how close we must've been all morning when Kacey and I were prepping. Mere feet away. How easy it could've been for us to run into each other. But knowing him, he was probably running around all day rather than hiding away in his room.
I got to Kacey's door and entered in the code, loud beeps echoing in the hall with every number: 9-3-6-4-1. The keypad turned green and the locks disengaged. I turned the door handle and shoved open the door. Behind me I heard the same sharp mechanical noise, of a door opening.
I didn't think anything of it—perhaps it was an echo of me opening Kacey's door. Only Kacey's door didn't close behind me.
I turned around. "Oh." Fuck.
Harry's eyes were aflame with so much emotion as he stalked toward me. I couldn't help but back up to the furthest part of the room and he matched my every step, his gaze unwavering and I couldn't look away. He was angry. Or betrayed? His presence was intense. How had he even known I was here? Was he waiting for me? No, that was impossible.
I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready.
"I knew that was you. What are you doing here?"
I certainly wasn't ready to hear his voice. Somehow it got deeper. More mature.
My back hit the wall. "What?"
"How are you here?" His eyes softened the lightest bit and moved down my frame, tracking every fabric of my attire, every curve of my body, then back up to every angle of my face. He was so close. Maybe a foot away.
"You're different. I..." His eyes dropped to my neck as he thought for a moment. I watched the puzzle pieces form together in his mind, but he still couldn't decipher the bigger picture. "Baker?"
"I'm Kacey's photographer."
"But...and you..." He was still scrambling for words, trying to choose which question to ask first. "Why are you here? Why would you choose to go on this tour?"
I was taken aback at his accusing tone. "I can go wherever I damn well please. If my talent lands me an opportunity to work with an amazing artist, then I'm not letting an ex stop me from doing that."
Again, his expression transformed before me. From harsh and punishing to soft and careful.
"I swear I heard your name earlier, but there was no way it was you they were talking to. My gut was telling me it had to be, but I didn't want..." He shook his head at the unfinished thought.
He hadn't turned around on stage earlier. Why hadn't he?
"I'm just here to do my job. I promise I'll stay out of your way."
He shook his head vigorously. "No. That's not..." He was frustrated. "Why would you think I'd want you to stay away from me?"
"You're angry."
The lines between his brows deepened. "I'm not. I'm shocked. I..." He lifted a hand to touch me, but I pulled back my shoulder and he got the hint, dropping his hand to his side.
"Why are you called Baker?"
"It's my name."
His lips parted and eyes widened—not so much in shock, but more so horror? Then they dropped down to my left hand adorned with several rings. One being a silver band on my ring finger. Oh, boy.
"O-Oh." He cleared his throat and dropped his chin, hiding his expression.
"I'm not married, Harry."
The relief in his eyes when he lifted his head was obvious. I wasn't in the right headspace to try and figure out what that meant.
"It's my mom's maiden name. I got it changed," I explained. I wasn't willing to offer up any more information than that.
Silence passed between us. I was still coming to terms with the fact that he was here standing before me, and I bet he was doing the same. Although, it was more of a surprise to him than it was to me. I at least knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to tour. He didn't even have a clue I was given the offer.
"You can't be here."
Okay, that I was not expecting. My lips parted and I looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "Excuse me?"
Was he not just scolding me for saying I would stay away from him, and now he's demanding the very same sentiment?
"What happened with the pit?"
My lips might as well have been glued shut.
"Norah," he growled, and damn it did my body react to that tone.
"It's not your problem."
"Yes, it fucking is." He stepped closer. Our chests were nearly touching.
"No, it isn't."
His phone started ringing with an incoming FaceTime. I dropped my eyes to the front pocket of his pink pants. It didn't seem like he was intending on picking it up. I wasn't all too convinced he was aware it was ringing at all.
"It involves me and my fans. It is my problem," he stated, digging his hand into his pocket and taking out his phone.
The name Camille ran across the top of the screen, digging a blade right into my chest. I had heard in passing the relationships he was rumored to be in, and I was very well aware of who Camille was. Any faint dream or desire or wish concerning the two of us buried deep down inside of me. This was the final nail in the coffin. It had to be. I wasn't going to shove my way into someone else's relationship.
He silenced the call and pocketed his phone.
"You should answer that," I said.
His eyes screamed in conflict and he ran a hand through his styled hair. "Norah."
"You have a girlfriend." God...fuck that hurt to say. "I am not your problem. I will stay out of your way. End of discussion." Every statement was purposeful.
My radio beeped to life, the voice coming through startling me. "T-15. Anyone seen Harry?"
He wasn't phased by his own impending search party. "You know that isn't possible, right?"
"What?"
"Staying away from you. Not worrying about you." His hand lifted again, this time to my face. He brushed the corner of my left eye with his thumb. With that one small touch, it was a struggle to keep from disintegrating into a pile of ashes.
I swallowed back my emotions. "Make it possible."
He chuckled, his breath fanning across my face. This felt wrong. Too intimate for him having a girlfriend. "We're gonna talk later."
"Not if I have any say on the matter."
"You have all the say, Norah." He smiled. "I can't wait to hear what you've been up to the past three years."
Oh, buddy, it hasn't been all shits and giggles, and I wasn't going to tell you a thing.
"Go call your girlfriend," I bit out with a dry smile.
Something like shame crossed his features, but I didn't feel an ounce or regret. I didn't know Harry's intentions with me and I doubted he knew either, but you'd better count on me steering him in the right direction.
His eyes glazed over my face again in a final parting look. "I'll find you after the show."
"I'll be gone."
"I'll find you."
...
oh, boyyyyy
I wanted to answer a question from last chapter that someone asked, and also give y'all the chance here to ask anymore::::
Someone asked how many chapters I'm planning to write for Events, and my answer is that I know how this story is going to end, but I'm not 100% sure how long it'll take to develop that ending but I would say around 60-65 chapters!! 🙂
Stay safe! <3