I sat down on the stage, dangling my feet off the edge. It was at least two o’clock and we had been up and running songs and transitions since 7 that morning. My white sneakers were scuffed and marked already from dancing around the stage. Dancing wasn’t exactly my forte, but I wasn’t terrible either, thankfully. I had run my entire set and we were now running through the boy’s sets.

Harry plopped down next to me while Zayn went over his solo, nicking the water bottle from my hand and kicking it back, chugging back it’s contents. I paid it no mind, not wanting the rest of my water regardless. I was done for now, simply listening to Zayn’s beautiful voice.

“You know,” Harry said, tossing the water bottle in the trash and fist pumping. He looked back at me, smirk on his face. “Your bum looks really nice in those tights.”

I glanced down at my attire. I was in a black tank from Victoria Secret that read ‘party on’ in white lettering, paired with skintight tights that I usually used to work out in. It was one of those days where I would be moving and sweating, and I knew I’d be thankful I wore them, and I was. My brown hair was pulled back into a bun and my face was void of make-up, so it was no wonder he was looking south for encouragement.

“I’d hope so,” I smiled. “I work hard to keep it looking nice.”

I ruffled his curly hair, making him swat at me, green eyes lighting up. He had the prettiest eyes in the world. “Come on, Curly. Let’s go get food, yeah?”

I slid off the stage, landing gently one the ground with Harry slipping off behind me, who no doubt was staring at my ass. Niall was lounging in one of the theater seats, snap back pulled over his face as he leaned back. I smacked it off of his head as I passed by, startling and saying, “Come on, Ireland. We’re getting food.”

“Oh thank God.” He sprung out of his chair, falling into step with me on my other side. He slipped his hat back on my head, narrowing his eyes at me and smiling. “I was bleedin’ starvin back there.”

My mom, who was sitting in the back of the rows got up and approached us, walking to meet us as we talked quietly while Zayn began to rerun his solo from technical difficulties. Harry and Niall had already done there’s lucky for me. I hated going places alone- I even hated ordering at the drive through because I always felt awkward.

“You,” my mother said, pointing at me. “Can’t go anywhere yet. You’re on stage next.”

I stopped, frowning and crossing my arms. “I don’t have any songs left?”

“Did you really think we were letting you off that easy?" She asked, smiling and gesturing for me to turn around. “You’re doing duets with each of the boys, love. Don’t fret, you get to pick, which you and Zayn need to do right now.”

“But I was going to lunch with my new friends.” I pouted. I knew I was being somewhat of a brat. My job was to sing and do what they needed me to do. I knew the solos would make a great show, but my inner child was coming out. “How will they ever like me if I’m nothing but a busy body?”

She steered me towards the stage, Niall and Harry sniggering behind her. “You’ll get them to like you by doing your job, dearie.”

She left my side and walked back to where she was sitting, leaving me with a frown on my face. “You’ll get us to like you,” Harry said in my ear seductively, “If you keeping wearing those pants.” I whirled on him and smacked him in his chest, sending him into a fit of laughter as I pushed passed him and running up the steps onto the stage where Zayn was finishing the ending line of his solo.

I waited patiently for him to finish talking to the stage manager before the man- David- turned around and waved me over to them. I smiled and approached, sticking my hands on my hips as David began explaining that we could pick virtually any duet we wanted, as long as it wasn’t suggestive and added that we should pick one both our voices fit.

“So,” I watched as he walked away, giving direction to the other people on the stage. “Any ideas, Malik?

He shoved his hands in his pockets and his face took on a thoughtful expression, mulling over a million choices. I in fact, had no idea what one earth we could sing together. Zayn’s voice was beautiful and filled with a soft feeling that was definitely non-existent in my own. My voice was loud and made for belting.

“I dunno, what do you think?” He looked up at me with his dark eyes, full of bashfulness. I decided that he reminded me somewhat of Flower, the skunk from Bambi.

As I ran through the large list of songs in my head, I saw Jackie kicking back in a fold out chair, pulling out People Magazine. I cocked my head to the side and squinted my eyes, attempting to read what was on the cover. A picture of Rihanna and Chris Brown adorned the front, the Barbados beauty talking about their abusive relationship.

“Oh my gosh,” I said brightly, spinning to Zayn and clapping my hands together in excitement. “How about Umbrella Remix, by Chris Brown and Rihanna? It’s poppy and it’s cute! Plus, your voice is like, puuuur-fect for that song!”

He smiled brightly. “Perfect! Where’d you think of that?”

I pointed to my lazy assistant who was doing nothing. “The magazine. Always using my surroundings like a pro.” I dusted my shoulder off. “I’m a pro.”

“Hey, you!” I pointed to David, momentarily forgetting his name. “We’re singing Umbrella by Chris Brown and Rihanna. Got it? Good.”
*

The rest of the rehearsal went off without a hitch, ending in learning and perfecting choreography. Unfortunately for me, I had way more dancing than the boys did. Apparently they were creative enough to just go along with their own moves half the time, but I was stuck doing intricate hip-hop and tricks.

It would seemed that my years of soccer and gymnastics paid off. Most people would have been out of breath from singing and dancing, but besides the fact that I was a workout freak, I had years of practicing stamina and moving my legs correctly. I was just disappointed I didn’t get to slide tackle anyone on stage.

It was six in the evening by the time we were dismissed, and I was in need of good food. I hopped off the stage, landing gracefully and strolling to the back of the set where the boys were lounging on the seats lazily, talking in their string of accents and slang words.

“Busy Bee,” Louis called when Iapproached, throwing an arm around me. “The lads and I are going to get a bite to eat and go play some laser tag. You’re joining, we still don’t know if we life you yet.”

I chuckled and ducked under his arm. “I’m down, but I warn you, when I’m done with you guys the one direction you’ll be running in is the exit.”