19th September 2017
Disorientated to wake up in yet another unfamiliar hotel bed, Eloise squints as she shifts to face away from the soft sunlight streaming though the edge of the curtain.
For just a split second, she'd forgotten about Harry. Well, about yesterday at least.
But as she peeks an eye open she can't help but beam brightly at seeing him smiling softly down at her. The shaft of light catches his face and gives his eyes that brilliantly clear, pistachio green look. They twinkle playfully as she comes to.
Despite her jet lag, he'd awoken first, but watching her sleep had proved just the tonic to help soothe and quieten his mind a bit, already nervous and jittery for tonight.
She lays on her stomach with one arm and leg bent up as if she was reaching towards him in her sleep. With her other arm hooked under her pillow, she burrows deeper as he reaches a gentle hand to her shoulder to drape her hair over her back.
It's as if his fingers become magnets; once he's touched her, he can't quite seem to prise them away. They drift to her lower back, exposed with the sheet bunched at her hips, and trail slowly like a whisper up the groove of her spine.
Squirming at his teasing touch, she lets out a pathetic mewl and lays a hand to her neck, which had been twisted awkwardly.
His hand glides up to swat hers away, strong fingers massaging gently.
As her hips start writhing under his attention, he chuckles and she nudges him off before she gets too distracted. Shifting on to her right side to face him, she unwittingly blocks his view of her chest with her left arm as she tucks her hand under her pillow.
Misreading his frown, she reaches her other to his forearm, raking her nails lightly up the sensitive underside, swirling patterns as she writes secret letters against his skin. He shivers more than once at the gently grounding attention.
"What are you awake so early for?", she whispers. "You've got your thinking face on". The crease between his eyebrows is always a dead giveaway.
"Hmm, just how pretty you are", he grins soppily, leaning down to nuzzle a kiss to her open palm.
She rolls her eyes playfully at his predictable response. "Nice try... No, really?".
Giving in when she levels his squinty look right back at him, he admits lowly, "Well, I guess I am also thinking about tonight...".
Rolling on to his back he huffs a deep breath through his nose. She shifts closer and intertwines their hands, which he pulls to his lips again for a distracted kiss, before dropping them to his chest, still holding tight.
The steady thump of his heart is as grounding and reassuring as ever. He's here. He's hers.
She rubs his thumb in encouragement, silently willing him to open up.
Lolling his head on the pillow towards her he sighs again before looking back to trace the elaborate ceiling mouldings.
"It's just me... It's all on me", he admits quietly, "I'm definitely feeling the pressure". Once he's started talking, he can't seem to stop, and soon gets on to hypotheticals.
"What if I can't command the stage enough and the fans get bored?".
"Impossible, you're a true showman and born frontman if ever I've seen one. They'll be beside themselves with excitement. They already love you, H!".
"Well, what if my wrist doesn't hold up?". He flexes it gently.
"Well, then you'll put your guitar down and focus on singing, and I guess Tom would step in and play all your parts instead?".
"What if a guitar string snaps?".
"Then that guy who works into him will come and sort you out whilst you effortlessly charm the crowd, I imagine. What's his name again?".
"Alex?".
"Alex will have your back. It's his job - literally what you pay him for!". She manages to pull a soft smile from him.
After a pause, she thinks he's done, until he rolls towards her. Kissing the back of her hand again, he mumbles quietly around her fingers, "What if the critics roast me?".
"Sing your heart out for your fans and what could they possibly have to say? You're amazing, your band's amazing, your fans are amazing. Just focus on giving them the show they've been waiting for".
Seeing his still furrowed brow, she lifts her other hand to cord through his hair and launches into a pep talk. It's ego-boosting time.
He's mostly just distracted by her tits, but, either way, it seems to soothe him somewhat.
>
Later that morning, as Harry stuffs the last of his things into his bags, Eloise sits lounging against the headboard, still on hold with the airline.
Despite her first-class ticket and his name on the booking - he with the Black AMEX and millions of Air Miles - they're not terribly helpful.
They confirm her suitcase arrived in San Francisco early this morning, but can't work out if it's already been dispatched to her. After countless attempts, she gives up trying to explain that they're about to check out and she needs to give them another address. She'll just have to leave her number with the concierge downstairs in case it shows up after they leave for the venue.
Gemma knocks at their door on her way down to breakfast, arms bundled with some spare clothes for her.
Accepting them gratefully and promising they'll be down in a few minutes, Eloise heads straight to the bed and rummages through the goodies.
Eyeing the pale blue sports bra with relief, she slips her arms out of the dressing gown and sets about shimmying it on.
After a bit of a struggle, she manages, but holy shit, it's tight. She can barely breathe and it's compressing her boobs painfully. After some mild contortion and fairly major cursing trying to get it off, panic sets in and she has to beg Harry for help.
Seeing her with one arm stuck above her head at a painful angle and one tit free, he creases into laughter but finally steps up and starts tugging. "Help, please! Shut up, I just need to get out, arghh".
Having hurled it back across the bed, she sucks in deep breaths and cups her boobs tenderly. With Harry still laughing, very much at her, she pouts. "Alright, alright, so you'll never find me sexy again... But who knew Gem had such deceptively small tits?".
Reaching for the black smock t-shirt dress, she wouldn't normally choose to go braless in it, and it will sit a bit high on her thighs, but it'll have to do.
Eyeing the underwear sceptically, she hesitates. "I just don't know if can wear your sister's knickers...", she looks up at him. "Is that weird? It's weird, right?".
"It's weird that you're talking to me about my sister's boobs and underwear, to be honest", Harry frowns, tugging at his lip. "But maybe weirder still to wear her clothes without anything underneath?".
"Oh, God, you're right! Well I can't wear mine for a third day, that's totally gross".
"Go commando", he shrugs. "It'll give me something to think about all morning", he adds, smirking lasciviously.
"You sure about that?", she raises an eyebrow at him. Dropping her dressing gown, she tugs the short dress on, totally bare underneath. Spinning for good measure, he gasps when she flashes everything.
"Oh, hell no!". He rummages in his bag again and pulls out a pair of boxers. He gives them a cursory sniff before shrugging and tossing them at her.
She squeals and steps out the way, watching them sail past and land on the floor behind her. "For fuck's sake, they better be clean", she grumbles, scooping them up sceptically.
"Of course they are, I'm not an animal!".
She raises an eyebrow again as she steps into the grey Calvin Klein boxer briefs and tugs them up. Turning to the mirror, she lifts her dress up and promptly bursts out laughing. Her wider hips stretch them out a bit, but she smirks, tugging at where they're still notably baggy in the front before grabbing her crotch and grunting.
Stepping closer and swatting her hand away, he tugs the dress higher around her waist and stares unabashedly. "Fuck, why does that look so hot? Is that weird?".
"Yes... But come on, weirdo, I'm starving".
>
His wandering hands dip under her dress the whole way downstairs, keen for another peek. Pinching at her nipples too, he tries in vain to distract her from guarding her hemline.
As the lift dings at the mezzanine level above the lobby, she swats his hands away again before stepping into him and dropping her hand to the crotch of his jeans. "One more fucking time and your boxers will be baggy too", she warns with a squeeze of his semi.
"Okay, okay, sorry!", he relents with a squeal.
As they reach the ground floor, she bends to grab for her bag as he reaches out in a surprise attack, tweaking her nipple with one hand and pinching her bum with the other.
"Argh, Harry!", she scolds, snapping back upright just as the doors open. Her shout pulls the others' attention from across the lobby.
He grabs their bags and side-steps around her, unable to wipe the grin from his face as he heads to the others. With her arms crossed tightly across her chest she heads instead to speak to the concierge about her suitcase.
"She's wearing my boxers", he blurts awkwardly as soon as she heads back to their little mob, creasing into immature giggles again.
She swats a hand at his abs and gapes at him. "Seriously?!".
"Hey! What was wrong with mine?", Gemma sasses.
"Sorry! I overthought it. Then he made it weird", Eloise grimaces, "But thanks again for lending me some stuff, you're a lifesaver".
"He makes everything weird", Gemma rolls her eyes. "Come on, let's eat, then hit the shops".
>
Enjoying the midday sunshine, they walk the twenty minutes back to the venue, sipping iced coffees and chatting about everything and nothing.
Not confident her suitcase would arrive in time for tonight, and then heading straight to LA, Eloise had dragged Gemma to the nearby Neiman Marcus.
She may have gone a little wild in the aisles. In just over an hour, like a veritable whirlwind, she'd hit the lingerie department, found the perfect pair of Paige black denim shorts, picked up a cute tasseled boho cream blouse with black embroidery, nabbed some simple silver flats, and even snapped up a cute white Zimmerman dress on sale.
Having changed in the toilets, she's feeling like a new woman and suitably smug. Gemma's impressed, if not a little intimidated.
But, confronted with the much longer queue of fans outside the Auditorium, already snaking halfway down the block, they soon switch roles.
As Eloise takes a deep breath, Gemma grasps her hand tightly and confidently heads straight for the main door.
The fans quickly spot them and start cheering, shouting their names and snapping photos, but they're harmless.
Bundling past the security guard, they skip down the aisle, laughing in relief. Spotting Harry by the sound desk, Eloise pounces playfully straight into his arms before giving him a twirl of her new outfit and a cheeky peek down her blouse at her cute new bra.
Jeff smoothly steers away Brittany, the journalist from Rolling Stone, here to write a piece on his debut concert. Oops.
>
They all hang out with Harry's full team as they review the amends to the timings of the visuals and light show.
As the technical director scrambles to make the final tweaks and finesse a few transitions, Harry catches Eloise peering around the ornate venue curiously, taking in its concentric circles, wooden timbers and red upholstery.
"3,200 capacity... It's tiny, really", he answers her unasked question lowly.
She nudges him playfully, "I think you're biased, Mr. San Siro... It's a beautiful venue, perfect really".
"Johannesburg was actually the biggest we played. 131,000".
She raises her eyebrows. Okay, that's insane. "But just think how much more intimate this will be", she reasons quickly. "You'll get to see and feel how your fans react".
He gulps, "Fuck, I hope they like it". Getting quiet and a bit overwhelmed, she can sense him turning inward.
"They'll love it". She's adamant. How could they not?
When the faulty fire alarm goes off again and interrupts preparations for the first sound check, he starts losing it a bit. "Oh, for fuck's sake!", he calls out in frustration, jumping up and heading towards Jeff.
>
Eloise sneaks off, returning minutes later to interrupt his pacing as she drops sunglasses, a cap and a zip up hoodie on Harry as he just eyes her curiously, wordlessly.
Plucking his phones from his hand, she passes them to Jeff. "Call me when they're ready for him?". With that, she grabs his hand, nods to his security guard and drags him out towards a side exit from the car park, away from the growing queue of fans.
They sneak stealthily out and she leads him over the road to the steps of the Grace Cathedral, instructing him to wait whilst she ducks into a fro-yo store a few doors down.
As she returns, clasping three cups with a variety of toppings, she looks at him with an indulgent smile. "It's not much of a break if you literally sit and stare at it", she scoffs, talking around the wooden spoon in her mouth and wiggling the fingers of her free hand at him.
She finds them a better spot, on a bench by the fountain in Huntington Park, just opposite.
After she passes a cup of frozen yoghurt to his security guard, loitering nearby, they sit trading spoonfuls and chaste kisses. Well, relatively chaste, in the shadow of a Cathedral and all.
As he gets some fresh air and soaks up the sun, she can literally see some of the tension melt off as his hunched shoulders drop away from his ears.
Tracing her kneecap distractedly, he looks back up at her as a dimpled grin stretches over his face. "This, and you, are exactly what I needed... Thank you, baby", he drops his forehead to hers and pecks a final kiss to her lips, delighting in the zing of the fresh kiwi on her lips.
"Anytime", she grins. Reaching to tug her phone from the pocket of her shorts to check Jeff's text, she adds, "But good... It's time to go. They're ready for you".
They go the long way around the block to avoid the fans and she leaps for joy spotting a member of staff from the hotel dropping her suitcase off. Talk about five star service, even after they'd checked out.
>
Eloise, Anne, Gemma and Lou watch the final soundcheck from the front row; clapping, singing and dancing wildly, they do their best to give Harry a boost of confidence.
It's a close knit crew today. No hangers-on or pre-meets. Not tonight.
All his closest friends knew not to add any pressure for the first show. And anyone else who asked was politely turned down.
But, as a result, he fields plenty of good luck calls and messages instead. His Dad - who's flying in for the New York show next week - Ben and James, the boys, Paul... There had been so many more he'd guiltily handed his personal phone to Eloise and his work phone to Jeff, just too busy to accept them all.
>
Feeling good after soundcheck, when Eloise does her best to pass on all the goodwill messages, Harry introduces her to some new faces.
There's Helene, his tour photographer. She's in black denim shorts too, and whilst Eloise is a towering nine inches taller than her tiny petite frame, with their blonde hair and fine features, they look a little similar.
Harry takes a photo of them with Lou and uploads it to his private Instagram, captioning it 'Three blondes walked into a bar...'. Always the joker.
Eloise blanches when he introduces her properly to Brittany from Rolling Stone. He laughs at her panicked expression and sets her at ease, "Britt's totally chill. And she's not allowed to write about us", he winks.
As they tuck into an early dinner, Harry introduces Eloise to the girls of Muna, his even more nervous opening act.
>
After, there's an obligatory few games of ping pong. It culminates in Harry thrashing Eloise. She lets him.
Actually, he totally thrashes her; but if anyone asks, she let him, okay?
Then, with just two hours to curtain up, it suddenly becomes a hive of activity as everyone starts getting ready.
Back in his private dressing room, Eloise rummages in her suitcase for her originally intended outfit.
Whilst he's distracted, catching up on yet more messages on his phones, she casually asks if he'd prefer a good luck blow job or a congratulations blow job. Immediately stopping his scrolling, he whips his head up so fast, she's impressed he doesn't give himself whiplash.
"Hmm... Can this be a 'buy one get one free' deal?", he asks optimistically, blatantly checking her out as she strips off to change. "It's awfully tempting, but I probably shouldn't cheat the audience out of all my energy", he sighs.
"Later it is, then", she grins, stepping close to pull him in for a hot and half naked kiss to tide him over.
"What a tease!", he grins.
"Who me?!", she gapes in faux innocence.
Holding her top to her chest, she pulls her hair over her shoulder and twists, batting her lashes as he steps up to attend to the fiddly buttons running up her spine.
Dropping a kiss to her shoulder, he then spins her back around and looks her up and down. "I reckon I'll be able to spot you in the front row in this", he fingers the crisp white silk appreciatively.
"Ya think?", she grins playfully.
Smiling at her thoughtfulness, always one step ahead, the sweet look in his eyes shifts to something naughtier in a flash as he pulls her top taut against her breasts to see the pattern of the delicate pale blue lace bra she bought earlier. "Nice", he smirks.
Taking her by surprise again, he bends his knees and drops his head to bite gently at her nipple through the thin material of her top and bra, making her gasp.
Hearing a knock, he quickly pops back up with a satisfied smirk. Before heading to unlock the door, he makes a point of first raking his eyes downward as his lips pull into a smug Cheshire cat grin.
Confused, she looks down to see one pebbled, needy nipple straining the fabric and claps a hand over her chest, just as Lou walks in.
"Now who's the tease!", she hisses.
"Who me?!", he parrots back in falsetto before dropping to a throaty chuckle.
>
Anne, Gemma and Jeff soon join them and spread out around the sofas, watching as Lou tends to Harry's hair and Harry Lambert steams all the bespoke Gucci outfits lining the hanging rail in the corner.
It's relaxed and lighthearted, and their chatter doesn't let up for a minute. The sense of nervous excitement grips them all; the energy palpable.
Soon Adam, Mitch, Sarah and Claire filter in to hang out as they collect their clothes.
Entirely unselfconscious - about nudity at least - Harry wouldn't bat an eyelid in stripping down to his boxers and changing in front of everyone, but it's Anne who suggests they all give him some privacy and a moment to himself.
He grabs Eloise's hand as she stands to head for the door, tugging her back wordlessly with a soft smile and a shake of his head.
She acts as wardrobe assistant. As he dons each layer, like a floral armour, he gets his head more and more in gear. An intriguing balance of amping himself up and centring himself at the same time, Eloise finds it fascinating to behold.
Fiddling with the pouch at his waist housing the battery and receiver for his in-ears, her smaller hands sneak under his silk shirt, trying to situate the wires and have them lay flat as he wiggles to ensure he has full range of movement.
After snapping some photos on his phone to send to Alessandro and post on Instagram later, Harry Lambert gives a final satisfied nod of approval and slips from the private dressing room back into the bigger room next door.
Silently, Harry wraps Eloise tightly in his arms. Conscious to avoid wrinkling his suit, she has to resist the urge to run her hands soothingly up and down his back. After a few deep breaths he drops a kiss to her forehead, and keeps his smiling lips pressed there.
"Ready?", she whispers with a squeeze to his waist.
Another deep breath and a final kiss. "As I'll ever be... Come on then".
>
Emerging next door, hand in hand, they're met with a cheer and the pop of a champagne cork.
As they all coo over him, Jeff hurriedly fills and hands around glasses for a toast.
Helping pass them around, mindful of his suit, Harry declines one for himself, "Not yet". But everyone else, including the band, won't turn it down.
As they step into a loose circle for a huddle, they all jump at the bleating wail as the fire alarm sets off again.
"Oh, fuck it!", Harry shouts with a nervous laugh. Grabbing the spare glass of champagne from Jeff's hand, he raises it momentarily to the others before knocking it back and downing it in one.
>
After a little pandemonium, and genuine panic when a cancellation order from the Fire Department is mooted, the alarm finally stops sounding and they get the green light.
Heading to the side of stage, in a final flurry of hugs and kisses, they all peel off and leave Harry and the band to it. Anne and Eloise, arm in arm, are last to leave him, and look over their shoulders as they're ushered down the hallway to make it out into the auditorium in time.
Eloise catches his eye before she turns the corner and blows him a final kiss good luck. He makes a play of catching it and spins around, sliding it in his back pocket.
After their huddle, Harry holds the band back, counting in his head the fifty four seconds it takes to get from backstage to the VIP pit in the front row. He'd counted it out earlier and didn't want to rush them.
Then, with a final tight hug from Mitch, they each carefully pick their way on to the stage in the dark, veiled behind the thin curtain.
>
Still catching their breath, Anne stands between Eloise and Gemma, gripping hands as they all stare unblinkingly up at the stage. Lou, Jeff and Harry Lambert are all in much the same state alongside them on the other side of Eloise.
The anticipation is almost too much to bear; the fevered pitch of the screaming fans certainly suggests so.
They all gasp as the opening solo guitar chords of the looped intro to Ever Since New York flood the darkened auditorium, before a single spotlight flares to pick out the silhouette of Harry and his guitar against a projection of the pink milky water from the album cover.
The auditorium, relatively small as it may be, roars to life and swells impossibly louder as the curtain drops to reveal Harry and the band as he kicks into the first verse.
The frenzied crowd sing every word back at him. The acoustics are unbelievable; it sounds more like the mighty San Siro stadium than an intimately sized venue.
They can't take their eyes off him as the look of disbelief on his face melts into unabashed joy.
As Tom and the sound engineers hastily up the levels to ensure they'll be heard over the crowd, Eloise sees Harry wince at some mic feedback halfway through the second verse, looking anxiously over to the sound booth.
Progressively finding his groove as he works through his nerves, he follows the opener up with Two Ghosts and Carolina, before launching into a reworking of Stockholm Syndrome, to the crowd's delight. It sends a clear message that he carries no shame of his formative years; he's immensely proud of everything they accomplished with the band.
As he swaps his guitar again and launches into Sweet Creature, his eyes keep returning to the front row. To Gemma, who inspired it, and Anne and Eloise too, to whom every world also rings true. God, he's lucky.
Shedding his suit jacket, Harry gulps some water and swaps guitars again during the choral opening to Only Angel. With eyes locked firmly on Eloise, he ups the ante and jumps into the first verse with gusto.
Finally, if the raucous dance moves are anything to go by, he appears to have shed his nerves, hit his stride and totally loosened up. Now he's having some fun.
The rockstar swagger - all feisty strutting, gyrating, thrusting and flag wielding - only continues with Woman before he softens things up a bit again for Meet Me in the Hallway.
Slipping in some more covers to pad out the set list from just his ten album tracks, the crowd rapturously receive Just a Little Bit of Your Heart and What Makes You Beautiful.
When he counts it in and jumps straight into the frenzy of Kiwi, they can see the delight on Harry's face that it's received even more rapturously than the band's breakthrough hit.
It says a lot, and it means even more.
Returning on stage with his jacket back on, to wind down towards the end of the set, Harry and Mitch play From the Dining Table acoustically.
It's only when he steps back up to his mic and greets the crowd that Eloise realises he hadn't yet addressed them. Given One Direction shows sometimes felt more like Harry's stand-up comedy routine with a few intermittent songs thrown in, that she hadn't noticed proves just how captivating the performance has been so far, fluidly transitioning between songs.
He thanks the fans and introduces the band, praising Mitch's contribution to making the album everything it is, before launching into a barn-storming cover of The Chain.
For the suitably epic and anthemic finale, Sign of the Times, he has the house lights raised to be able to see the crowd.
Addressing them again, openly and honestly, he tells them how excited he's been for tonight and how they've made it the perfect first night of the tour. When he professes he'll love them forever and thanks them for all their support so far, how it's truly touched him and genuinely changed his life, Eloise, and the three thousand plus other people in the room, know the sentiment is entirely genuine. He wears his heart on his sleeve and has the tattoo to prove it. Two, technically.
As stirring and triumphant as its lilting melody, Sign of the Times positively brings the house down. Radiantly sharing the spotlight with his fans, Harry gazes out in wonder as he shares this incredibly special moment with everyone in the room. His modest charm and undeniable presence juxtapose with oozing charisma and sheer talent, making him somehow seem delightfully approachable yet entirely enigmatic.
Having nailed the run, when his eyes land back on Eloise, his mum and sister in the front row, the look of pride and joy on their teary faces is something he'll never forget. It unexpectedly chokes him, and, too moved to sing the refrain for himself, he extends his mic to the crowd instead.
And then it's done. Blowing kisses, he bows out with a final "Thank you. I love you. Treat people with kindness".
Ordinarily, he would sprint off as the band still plays the outro, trying to escape the venue before the fans, but, for tonight only, he's the last to leave the stage. Taking stock, he soaks it all up and looks directly into as many smiling, cheering faces as he can.
>
Similarly, his biggest fans - front and centre - get to enjoy the entirety of his final song for once, and also linger afterwards, watching him take it all in. It's a really special moment, and one they'll never forget, so thrilled to see him back on stage where he belongs, commanding a crowd.
When they're finally escorted back stage, surrounded by a flock of stewards and security guards, they return to the dressing room and find Harry and the band as they left them; wrapped up in a huddle. Although this one is far more relaxed and triumphant.
Hearing their cheer, they break apart and Harry rushes over, swooping the rest of them into another mass hug.
As they all peel off, he pulls Eloise firmly into his arms for a teary, passionate kiss as she murmurs against his lips just how proud she is and how much she loves him.
He's absolutely buzzing, pumped on adrenaline and chattering a mile a minute. They all get swept up in his excitement and champagne corks soon pop again.
>
When Jeff calls out that the cars have the green light to leave in fifteen minutes, they all jump into action, grabbing changes of clothes, sorting their belongings and stashing things back in the tour trunks, ready for the crew to pack up.
With a final flurry of hugs, they split into separate cars in the private parking lot.
Harry, Eloise, Anne, Gemma, Jeff, Lou and Harry Lambert split into cars for the airport to take the Azoff's jet straight back to LA.
The band, Tom, Molly and Helene will pour over footage in the tour bus, to agree any tweaks needed for tomorrow night, then crash in their bunks for the rest of the six hour drive back to LA.
>
Arriving back home in the Hollywood Hills just after 2am, the adrenaline has tapered off and they head straight upstairs.
Harry pulls Eloise into the crook of his arm as they collapse into their bed, tangled up in each other.
Just as they had first thing this morning, she entwines their fingers on his chest as they talk softly.
Lolling her head to look at him, she whispers, "One down..." with a grin.
"...Just eighty eight to go", he grins. "God, I want to do that till I'm eighty!", he adds with an elated, disbelieving chuckle.
"Then you will", she says simply with a beaming smile.
"And I'll be cheering you on from my Zimmer frame in the front row, tits flapping over my shoulders as I jump around when you rock out to Kiwi!", she adds with a snort, making him burst out laughing.
"Surely not! Not these tits", he rolls on top of her and drops his head down. "Let me check...".
"You're a tit!", she grins biting her lip as she drops a hand to the back of his head. "And, hey, don't forget I owe you that blow job. Congratulations are definitely in order!".
He pops his head briefly back up. "Oh, I'll be collecting that tomorrow, with interest", he smirks.
"It's already tomorrow", she winks.
Game on.
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