With a cup of tea and a pack of biscuits in hand, I walk out onto my hotel balcony to enjoy this beautiful, crisp morning. I take a seat on one of the chairs and tuck my legs up to my chest under my hoodie, getting comfortable.

"So, where in America are you now?" Jack asks for the third time during this short phone call.

"Denver," I reply disinterestedly, dunking a biscuit in my tea, "We arrived here yesterday."

"Oh, that's nice," he replies before suddenly erupting into a yawn, "I'm so tired, I can barely keep my eyes open."

"Go to bed," I insist, feeling a bit guilty that I've just woken up from a nice ten-hour sleep, whereas he's been at work all day since the early hours.

"It's barely five pm, and I want to speak to you, love," his words warm my heart in a way they used to do so often, "Oh, God, do you remember me telling you about Ben?"

"Ben?" I frown at the change in conversation, "Yeah, I think so, why? You work with him, don't you?"

"Well, not for long, I don't think. As you know, we're building a block of flats, which we're on a strict time frame for, hence the long work hours. Anyway, he comes stumbling onto the sight this morning at four am, drunk as fuck, straight from a night out. It was beyond ridiculous, like genuinely I couldn't believe my eyes, love. It's not like we have a gaffer that lets anything slide, so God knows what's going to happen to the kid."

"Oh," I don't really have any words for him.

"Probably going to get fired, let's be honest," he goes on to tell me, and I audibly sigh in response, "Like, he's only nineteen, you know? I feel sorry for the dude."

"It's not your business," I tell him softly, not wanting to piss him off, "A nineteen-year-old knows better not to show up at work drunk, we both know that."

"Yeah, but I can have sympathy for the guy, right?"

I bite my tongue on querying why, and agree, "Yeah, of course, sorry."

"He probably doesn't have a father to keep him in check," he shares an opinion, which has me rolling my eyes.

"Maybe," I'm fighting a yawn myself now.

As he continues to speak on a matter that doesn't concern him, I check the time, and it's already half nine in the morning. And what's also staring back at me, are five unread messages from Rhiannon asking where the fuck I am and if I was alive, to get my arse downstairs for breakfast.

"It was just such a long day-"

"Shit," I cut Jack off with a curse, "Sorry, Jack, I'm going to have to go, Rhi and Alex are waiting downstairs for me, I didn't notice how late it was."

"Yeah, it's knocking on now," he agrees, "I'm going to make an early dinner and get to bed soon anyway, love."

"Okay," I'm familiar with our routine now. We call on a morning when I wake up and he's finished work, and then late at night when he wakes up and I'm getting into bed.

He doesn't tell me to have a great day, like I wish for him to have every day, nor does he comment on the fact I have a show tonight. He simply murmurs, "Love you, Lia," before hanging up the call, allowing me to go.

"Dick," I sigh, standing from the chair.

I lock the balcony door behind me and finish the rest of my tea before getting ready to join my friends for breakfast. I don't bother with anything fancy, I simply pull on a pair of brown joggers to match my hoodie, and head downstairs.

When I walk into the restaurant, it takes me a moment to find where they're sitting, and it isn't until Rhiannon stands up and begins to wave obnoxiously at me that I do.

With a shake of my head and a little laugh, I approach the table and sit down, "You are such an idiot."

"I know," Rhiannon grins gleefully at me.

"What were you doing?" Alex passes me a menu.

"Thank you," I take it from them, "And I was on the phone to Jack, I just didn't notice the time."

"Oh."

"Are you excited for tonight's show?" Rhiannon asks.

A smile comes to my lips and I nod, "Yeah, it'll be nice to be back on stage again after, like, four days, I miss it."

"It's going too quick," Alex notes, "We left home two weeks ago, yet it feels like only yesterday."

"It's been two weeks already?" Rhiannon blurts out.

"I hate how fast the time is going," I tell them, "We will be back in our rainy, London flat in no time at this rate."

"Don't say that," she whines, "I'm ignoring the fact."

A waiter suddenly wanders over to our table, and I take a quick scan of the menu while my friends order. I decide on a breakfast wrap, fancying something a bit different today.

"Would you like any drinks?" the waiter then asks.

"Could I please have an iced caramel latte?" I've been craving one since we arrived here last night, so I'm jumping at the opportunity, even if it's not the best.

"Of course," he writes my request down, "And what would you two like?"

"Just a bottle of water, please," Alex says.

"And I'll have a hot chocolate please," Rhiannon bats her lashes at the waiter, so clearly interested in him.

I barely manage to suppress my giggle until he leaves, and when he does, she kicks me under the table, scolding me for my behaviour.

"Let me live," she rolls her eyes.

"I mean, we are here for two more nights," I shrug as I tell her, "Get the dick, girl."

She looks back briefly, catching him looking, and turns back to us with a grin, "I may need to, he's gorgeous."

Alex smiles, "I'm so glad we have separate rooms."

"I wouldn't even think of doing it if not," Rhi assures them, "It's such an ideal situation, but I guess we'll see."

"Ask for his number or something," I suggest.

"I might actually," she says, "Not now, obviously, we have more important matters; breakfast."

Despite the fact I've already had biscuits, my stomach rumbles at the mention of breakfast, as it's truly my favourite meal and nothing compares to it in my eyes. I don't think I'll ever understand the people who willingly skip it.

We don't have to wait long for our drinks to arrive, and once we've thanked our waiter, I try the iced latte, letting out a satisfied hum, "Wow, that's actually really nice."

Rhiannon takes a sip of hers, mirroring my surprised expression, "Ooh, it is, I'll be getting this again."

"Definitely," I agree.

"My water's good too," Alex chimes in, making us all crack up into giggles.

We fall into conversation about our schedule of today to simply pass the time, but it's not long at all until breakfast is brought to us, so we dig in and carry on speaking.

"I'm stuffed," Alex states, placing their knife and fork in the middle of their plate.

"Me too," I say before finishing the rest of my drink.

"Shall we head back up to our rooms and get ready for soundcheck?" Rhiannon suggests.

"Perfect plan," I say before I stand from the table, stuffing my phone into my hoodie pocket.

With my arm looped with Alex's, we head out of the restaurant, but it's not until we get to the lifts that we realise Rhiannon isn't behind us.

It doesn't take a genius to guess what she's doing.

The door to the lift opens with a ding, and as soon as Alex steps on, Rhiannon comes out of the restaurant with a smile on her face.

"Quick," I laugh, holding the doors for her.

She runs over to us, and as soon as she gets into the lift, the doors close and she squeals happily, "So, I may have got his number!"

🎶 🎶 🎶

Sweat covers every part of my body as I make my way across the stage with my red, sparkly microphone in hand, ready to sing my heart out for 'Someone Else'. Not only is it my second to last song of the night, but it's also the most popular in my discography, with the most streams, and I find it's the song that people sing along to.

Putting popular songs later into a set is a choice that most artists decide, because not only does it keep a crowd interested, but it indicates that a show is nearing a close.

It's a bitter-sweet moment for the artist and fans, but I take it like an energy drink and give the crowd all my energy for my last two songs.

"Thank you for welcoming me, Denver, you've been incredible," I tell the crowd, nearing closer to my microphone stand, "I won't keep you for much longer, but I would like to take this moment to thank Grayson for inviting me along with him on this tour. I'll be forever grateful for this opportunity."

A few screams break out at the mention of Grayson's name, and I grin, looking over the crowd.

"Let's try that again because I couldn't quite hear you, are you ready for Grayson Reed, Denver?!" I play with the crowd, earning a whip-lashing of screams, "That's more like it. Thank you so much for having me, I'm Cornelia Star and this is 'Someone Else'."

The neutral lighting is swiftly replaced with red lights as I transition from my speech to strumming my guitar, ready to perform my little arse off.

I close my eyes and begin to sing the first verse, reminiscing on the beginning of it all, when Jack and I weren't even a thing and I was hopelessly in love with him. I couldn't tell him, because not only was he my best friend, but at the time, he loved someone else. It wasn't until his brother's wedding, mere weeks after the breakup of his two-year relationship, that he'd first looked my way romantically. I was always a mate to him until that drunken night together, and he's not referred to me as one since.

As I approach the chorus, I open my eyes and notice five young women in the front row of the crowd who are singing along with me, giving all of their energy, not messing up a single lyric.

"Why don't you want me, darlin?

Why don't you want me to yourself?

It should be me that you're calling

It should be me and no one else

I'm so obsessed with you, darlin'

Pretty sure it's fuckin' with my head

'Cause I love you and you love someone else

Someone else, yeah

Cause, I love you and you love someone else'"

They point to me and sing these lyrics back at me, filling my heart with so much love. It's a dream in itself to be performing in these venues, but to receive love and support like this from Grayson's fans just makes me so happy.

After 'Someone Else', I go straight into 'Blonde', which is a breakup song about my one and only ex. After said breakup, I made a rash decision to bleach my hair, and I've kept it blonde ever since. Jack may treat me poorly, but no one compares to Aaron, the boyfriend I had when I was nineteen.

We're not going into that right now, though.

Once I finish singing my final lyric of the night, I exit the stage to my left, startled to find Grayson there, waiting... or was he watching me?

"Grayson," I acknowledge him, taking my in-ears out.

He grabs my arm, not too roughly, but enough to startle me, and pulls me to the side before my technicians can unplug me.

"What the fuck, Grayson?" I spit out in shock, "You can't just fucking manhandle me, I'm not a stupid rag doll."

"I didn't," he sighs, glaring daggers at me.

"Yes, you did," I force his large hand off me, "Now, what the fuck do you want? To tell me that I suck? That my performance wasn't up to your standard?"

He almost looks offended at my accusations, but he proves me right in thinking his intentions for this conversation aren't positive with his next words, "This is my tour, Cornelia, you do know that, right?"

Anger starts to brew in my gut at his question and like on cue, the curtain with his name on drops, and screams echo around the arena, almost mocking me.

I blink slowly, "Yes, Grayson, I am aware of that. The curtain behind us is a massive giveaway. I may be delusional sometimes, but I didn't suddenly wake with amnesia."

"Then might I remind you that you perform for me, those fans that were screaming your little songs, are here for me, Cornelia, not you," he sends shockwaves through me.

With a scoff, I slap him across the face and push him backwards, "Fuck you! You did not need to hire me, Grayson. I'm here for you, you're right, but I don't need to be. I'm here for my career, but I wasn't exactly a nobody before this. I will never lie to you; this is a massive opportunity for me, but I can live without it. It's pretty tempting to leave when you've not once tried to make me feel like I'm welcome here, and you should be fucking grateful I still am. I was simply enjoying myself on stage, what did you expect? It's funny, really, you must be so insecure to be projecting this onto me, because fuck me, what have I ever done to you to earn this treatment?"

I'm greeted with deafening silence, and a twinge of his jaw, which tells me I've hit a nerve somewhere.

"That question isn't rhetorical," I clarify, unplugging myself, so the technicians don't have to, "What the fuck have I ever done to you? Why employ me just to belittle me?"

Not wanting to waste another second waiting for an answer, I turn my back and walk away from not only him, but the ten other people backstage who witnessed the entire thing.

And I couldn't give a single fuck; it's time people wake up and realise what Grayson Reed is truly like.

~~~~~

A/N

I don't particularly like this chapter, mostly because I hate the fact that Grayson is still a dick, like what's up with that??? 

Me when I have the power to make them fall in love and he be nice to her, but I don't x

not yet anyway hehe x

Hope you enjoyed this one nonetheless, if you did leave some comments and vote please x