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lemoncrushh · 26 days

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Wild Horses - Three

Summary: Amber Crosby didn’t end up with the life she’d expected, but that didn’t keep her from following her dream. A young, up and coming country recording artist, she and her band set out to do just that. Trying to leave her past behind, it wasn’t until meeting Harry Styles that she realized just how her life could take a turn and alter her future forever.

A/N: Please note all portions in italics are meant to be flashbacks :).

STORY PAGE

Chapter Three Word Count: 5.1k+

"I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now..." - Taylor Swift; Everything Has Changed (ft. Ed Sheeran)

Harry clapped enthusiastically when Amber and her band finished the song they'd been rehearsing. Watching from the audience, he caught the little smirk on Amber's face as she looked at the ground and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It had been their third run-through and he could tell she was nervous. It could have been because it was supposed to be their new single and she wanted to get it just right, or it could have been because he was watching, he wasn't sure. Either way, he thought they sounded great, and by Friday night when the tour officially kicked off, he had no doubt she'd have it down perfectly.

Opting for a break, Amber slung her guitar strap over her head and laid her instrument on its stand.

"That's good for now, guys," she told her band. "Next time, let's try it a little faster tempo maybe? See how it sounds with less echo, too."

Johnny and Brendan nodded, returning their guitars to their stands before following Carter backstage. Rising from his seat, Harry met Amber beside the soundboard where she discussed briefly with the tech a few things she wanted to tweak next time.

"Sounding good up there," he commented.

"Ugh, I don't know," she replied, biting her lip as she tucked that same stubborn strand of hair behind her ear. "I feel a little rusty. I hope it sounds better Friday night."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," encouraged Harry. "You're really talented. I wouldn't have invited you here if I didn't believe it."

Amber's face softened, a bit of rosiness on her cheeks which did not go unnoticed by Harry.

"Thanks," she whispered.

Harry leaned forward. "Do I make you nervous?" he asked softly.

"Huh?" She hadn't meant to make that sound. She regretted it immediately. Harry smiled anyway.

"By being here," he explained. "Watching your rehearsal."

"Oh, um..." Amber swallowed. "Well, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little nervous. But...I kinda like you being here. Makes me feel...important. Like I've made it, or something."

Harry's grin widened as he stood up straight. "Good. You should feel that way."

Unsure how to reply, Amber shrugged. "Um...I'm gonna go..." she pointed behind her, "grab a bite to eat."

"Of course."

"I don't suppose..." Amber hesitated. Harry raised his eyebrows in question. "...you ever eat dinner with your opening act?"

Amber caught the slight twitch in Harry's lips before his left dimple appeared.

"I mean...I know you send them trays of snacks and sodas and bottled water...which by the way," she held up her hands, "we really did appreciate! Oh my God, did I say that already?"

Harry chuckled then. "You did."

She was cute, he admitted to himself. Alright, so maybe he'd admitted it to himself already, when they'd first met in fact. But almost as quickly, he'd vowed that this would be strictly a professional relationship, albeit a friendly one. Getting involved in any other way would be a recipe for disaster, and he was willing to stick to his guns. Still, when she'd thanked him profusely for the food he'd set up for the band backstage, the flowers and wine in her hotel room, and again for inviting her band on tour, he couldn't help but feel a wee bit...of a stomach flip - butterflies in his tummy, behind his matching tattoo. And perhaps, that was why he'd found himself strolling into the audience and taking a seat to watch her rehearsal during his free time.

"So...would you like to join us? I doubt we're doing anything fancy. Brendan said he wanted to find some barbecue."

With a slight grin, Harry shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Actually, I have plans," he said. "But maybe next time."

"Oh," Amber mouthed, unable to hide her disappointment. She felt dumb. "'kay."

"Have a nice dinner," said Harry. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Giving him a weak smile, Amber said her goodbyes and walked away to find her band. Harry watched her until she'd disappeared behind the stage. Then with a sigh, he turned around and left the way he'd arrived.

Amber picked at her potato salad, her barbecue sandwich half-eaten. She didn't know why it had disappointed her so much that Harry hadn't joined her for dinner. He had plans, so what? It didn't mean he hadn't wanted to come. And he had said maybe next time. Still, her stomach felt like a pinball machine, the little metal ball rolling around aimlessly and making her nauseous.

"You gonna eat that?" Amber heard next to her. Looking up at Carter, she blinked.

"What?"

"The other half," Carter gestured at her plate with his thumb.

"Oh," Amber sighed. "No. Go ahead."

With a toothy grin, Carter grabbed the sandwich and shoved it into his mouth. Resting her chin in her hand, Amber looked around the restaurant, ready for her escape.

"What's with you?" asked Carter, reaching for his soda to wash down the sandwich he'd just devoured.

"With me?" Amber raised a brow.

"Yeah, you've been quiet all night. And you've barely eaten. You feel okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Something on your mind?"

Amber shook her head. "No, I'm fine."

Carter rolled his eyes, sipping his Coke through the straw. "Whatever."

"What does that mean?"

"It means...whatever."

Amber glared at Carter until he sat back in his chair.

"It's like I can't win with you," he said. "I'm trying to give you your space like you wanted, just be friends. I try to be nice and you snap at me. I try to be concerned and ask if you're okay, and you shut me out."

"I'm not shutting you out-"

"'I'm fine' is what you say when you're not fine, Amber. I know you."

"You know me?" she scoffed.

Carter turned in his seat to face her. "Yeah, I do. You used to talk to me, Ambs. I miss that."

Amber shifted her gaze to Johnny and Brendan across the table who seemed to be deep in their own conversation. She sighed.

"I miss it too," she admitted.

"Yeah?"

Looking down at her plate, she nodded. "Sometimes."

"Pffft," Carter sounded as he rose from his chair. "Tell you what. When that sometimes comes around again, let me know. I'm gonna take a leak. I'll meet you in the van."

Amber glared at Carter incredulously as he walked away. What the hell did he expect her to do, cry and beg to have him hold her while she confessed her deepest, darkest secrets? She'd done that already. And if memory serves, it was always while finishing off a bottle of booze. She was done with that, she'd promised herself.

"What's his deal now?" asked Brendan.

"Who the fuck knows," Johnny mumbled.

"Boy needs to get-"

"Don't!" Amber interrupted, her hand raised.

"Sorry," Brendan said sheepishly.

"Let's go." Grabbing the van keys, Amber stood up. "When we get back, let's do a couple run-throughs and call it a night. I'd like to turn in early."

Standing alone in the kitchen, Amber silently cursed herself for deciding to come to the party. She pulled her phone from her pocket, ready to text Faith, but changed her mind. They hadn't even been there an hour yet, and Faith would have a cow if she had to leave so early.

"Hey."

Amber spun around at the sound, not sure if it was meant for her. Face to face with Dallas Marker, she widened her eyes, her hand gripping her Solo cup. Surely he wasn't speaking to her.

"Are you in my Chem class?" he asked.

"Um, no," she muttered.

"Oh. Thought you were. What's your name?"

"Amber."

"Amber..." he repeated, letting the name simmer on his lips. "Don't think I know an Amber. You a Junior or Senior?"

Amber blushed, looking down at her cup. "Neither."

"Oh shit, you're a Freshman?"

"No, Sophomore."

"Oh, phew," Dallas sounded. "Thank God."

"Why?" Amber asked, furrowing her brow.

Dallas shrugged, a smirk on his face. "Just 'cause you're cute. And I woulda been disappointed if you weren't at least sixteen."

"Oh..." Amber swallowed hard. She swore she was about to tell him she wouldn't be sixteen until next summer, but two more boys walked into the kitchen, interrupting her confession.

"Dallas, bro!" exclaimed the tall guy. Amber was pretty sure he was on the football team, but she forgot his name.

Dallas turned, smacking hands with both boys. "You guys drunk yet?"

"Nah, man," said tall guy. "Just got here. What ya got?"

Dallas shrugged. "Ain't my party, bro."

The other two boys walked around Dallas to the kitchen counter, inspecting the various bottles. One of them picked up the Jack Daniels with a nod.

"Fuck yeah, dude."

"Beer's for pussies," said the other.

Dallas chuckled, suddenly remembering Amber's presence.

"Hey, y'all know Amber?" he asked, throwing his arm around her shoulders. "She's a Sophomore."

The other boys each gave a short nod before filling their own Solo cups with ice and whatever liquor they preferred.

"Whatcha drinkin'?" Dallas asked Amber, looking over her shoulder into her cup.

"Just Coke," she replied meekly.

"Let's put something in that Coke," insisted Dallas.

Amber giggled, unsure if it was because of what he'd said or the fact that his breath tickled her ear. Either way, she wasn't about to refuse a suggestion from Dallas Marker. She watched as he poured a generous amount of Jack into her cup, topping it off with a tiny bit more soda. Then with a sly grin, he handed the cup back to her.

"Drink up," he said.

Amber could smell the strong, pungent odor of alcohol before even taking one sip. But Dallas's eager eyes on her made her lose her senses, and before she knew it, she'd gulped down half the cup. All three boys let out a chorus of whoops and hollers, cheering her on.

"Hell yeah, babe," beamed Dallas, his own cup in his hand as the other slipped around her waist. "My kinda girl."

Amber could taste it on her tongue, a phantom of flavor. She needed a drink. No, she shook her head. She wanted a drink, but she didn't need it.

She sat on her hotel bed, staring at the wall. Wringing her hands in her lap, she took several deep breaths. She knew she could open the mini bar and grab a little bottle of something, but she also knew those things were damn expensive. Besides, one wouldn't end up being enough to get drunk and she'd wind up spending a fortune just to numb herself. Her mouth watered as she debated taking the elevator down to the bar.

The tour kicked off the next day. She was nervous as hell. What if she fucked up on stage, forgot a line to a song or didn't realize her guitar was out of tune? What if the lights got in her eyes and she passed out? What if her voice cracked and everyone laughed?

Taking another deep breath, she rose from the bed, grabbing her room key. Then tip-toeing out into the hall, she turned toward the elevators. She'd just pressed the button when the doors opened and she saw two familiar faces.

"Oh!" she gasped.

"Hi, Amber," grinned Harry as Jeffrey held the door.

"Hi," she greeted, stepping hesitantly inside.

"Where are you off to this evening?"

"Um..." she looked between Harry and Jeff, deciding not to confess the truth. "Nowhere, really. Just thought I might get some fresh air."

"That might not be such a good idea," offered Jeff as he released the doors and they closed. "There's already a line of fans outside, and if they see you, it could grow into a large mob in minutes."

"Are you serious?"

"That shouldn't concern her though, Jeffrey," argued Harry.

"In general, no, but because she's billed as your opening act, she may still get recognized. And that could only fuel the fire."

"What fire?" Harry and Amber asked in unison. Catching her eye, Harry winked.

"The belief that you're at this hotel too."

"But I don't always stay at the same hotel," remarked Harry.

"You didn't used to," Jeff agreed. "But now that Amber is under my management, fans of yours have become aware of that. So if they know for certain she's staying at this hotel, then they can only assume I'm here as well. Therefore...you're here."

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Harry groaned, running a hand down his face. Amber bit her lip to keep from giggling.

"It's okay, Jeff," she said. "I understand. Maybe I'll just...wander into the gift shop."

The elevator opened then and Jeff held the door as Harry and Amber stepped off.

"Or you could join us," Harry offered.

"Huh?" Amber sounded, kicking herself once again.

"We were just going to dinner. It's a meeting but..." Harry glanced at Jeff.

"Oh, I can't intrude," Amber held up a hand.

"Nonsense," said Jeff. "You're my client now. I mean, we were going to discuss some personal business, but mostly we just need to eat. Have you eaten?"

"I had a little something earlier," she replied, recalling the microwavable soup. "But my stomach's kind of in knots. Nervous about tomorrow."

"Ah, well you can still join us for a drink, then," offered Jeff. "Or dessert."

"Well..." Amber crinkled her nose. The prospect of a drink did sound good, but she wasn't about to tell them that.

"C'mon," Harry insisted, his hand held out. "I promised to join you for dinner the next time, only you can join me instead."

With a wide smile, Amber tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "How can I say no to that?"

Amber felt a little underdressed in the restaurant in her jeans and cardigan, and she wished she'd had time to run back to her room to change. But Harry and Jeffrey had been so nice to allow her to tag along, there was no way she would have made them wait.

"Another glass of wine, Miss?"

"Oh yes, thank you," Amber smiled at the waiter. She wasn't quite finished with the glass she had, but seeing as both men were already on their second glasses, she figured it was okay to order another.

She'd opted for a greek salad, thinking it wouldn't hurt her stomach too much, but she hadn't anticipated its massive size. She'd barely made a dent in it. She wasn't quite used to such sophistication when it came to food and dining, and she worried she looked like a fish out of water, especially next to Harry Styles.

So far, however, her dinner companions had done nothing but make her feel welcome in their presence. Amber found both Harry and Jeff to be delightfully funny, and the way they cracked jokes with each other only proved to her the deep solidarity of their friendship. As far as she was concerned, Harry was ever the gentleman and she understood why he had such a large following. And although she had only come to know Jeffrey a little better in recent weeks since he'd officially become her manager, it was nice to see this lighthearted side of him.

"So how are you feeling now, Amber?" asked Harry as she swallowed the last of her wine. "Still nervous?"

"Are you kidding?" she laughed, lowering her glass, the color rising in her cheeks. "Of course I am. I've never been on a legit tour like this before. I don't really know what to expect. And I have to go on before you. In front of your fans!"

"But they'll be your fans too, soon enough," remarked Jeff.

"You really think so?"

"Of course. Perhaps not all. There will be those who don't care one iota about the opening act. They show up late, or they chat with their friends or buy merch during your set. But there will still be plenty of fans who get excited about the entire experience, and anything remotely connected to Harry. Including you."

Amber's face softened as she took in Jeff's words. Then stealing a glance at Harry, she saw he had the same grin on his face that he'd had when she'd seen him watching her from the audience. It made her feel...special, excited and a little vulnerable at the same time.

Just then, the waiter returned with her second glass of wine and asked if the table needed anything else.

"Yes, actually," said Jeff, "go ahead and bring us a bottle of champagne. We're celebrating."

"Oh gosh!" Amber gasped. "No way I could drink this wine and champagne!"

She knew that was a lie, she could. But she most certainly did not want to look like a lush in front of her new manager and friend, or worse, let them see her puke.

"No worries, you can send it back," assured Jeff.

"Really?"

"Of course."

Amber gave the waiter an apologetic look as he lifted the glass of wine he'd just set on the table, but he only returned her gaze with a polite smile.

"Sorry, I always feel bad sending things back," Amber mumbled, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"Believe me, that waiter's seen a lot worse," Harry chuckled.

"Not from you, I hope," Amber jabbed.

"God, no. I'm not mean."

"Harry is the poster boy for kindness," added Jeff. "And I can promise you, it's not a put-on."

Relaxing a bit, Amber smiled at Harry.

"I've always been curious about that," she said. "I can barely get my bandmates to get along. How do you stay so sweet and kind, and also grounded?"

"Lots of practice," he grinned.

"And therapy."

"Jeffrey!" exclaimed Harry, his eyebrows raised.

"What? Like it's a surprise? We all need it, especially in this business."

Harry looked back at Amber and shrugged. "It's true. I also meditate a lot. Keeps me calm."

"Hmm," Amber sounded. "I might have to try that."

"I have some apps I can show you, and some good playlists-"

"Ah, here we are," Jeff interrupted when the waiter returned with the champagne.

Unsure how loud the cork would pop, Amber braced herself as she watched the waiter, but was relieved when it wasn't loud like in the movies. Filling the first glass, the waiter placed it in front of her, but she waited until Jeff and Harry had theirs.

"Are we toasting?" asked Amber, lifting her class.

"May I?" Harry eyed Jeffrey who nodded. "To...you, Amber," he said, turning to face her.

"Me?"

"Thank you...for joining me on this tour. I see a great future ahead of you, love. And...I hope...a life-long friendship for us both. I'm excited to get to know you better, and even more thrilled that we'll get to experience this journey together."

Amber stared at Harry for a moment, unable to speak, breathe or even blink.

"Hear, hear!" called Jeff, his glass raised.

"Wow," Amber finally muttered. She wasn't sure whether to wipe her eyes or give Harry a hug. Instead, she clinked her glass against his and then with Jeff's. "Thank you, Harry. That was really nice."

"You're welcome," he said. "I'm only sorry we don't have the entire band here for the toast."

"Oh please, they'd probably ruin the moment anyway," Amber chuckled behind her tears. "Their idea of a toast is a couple pitchers of beer over a Falcons game."

Jeff let out a boisterous laugh as Harry had a look of cringe all over his face.

"Yeah," Amber snorted. "Whatever you do, don't tell them you're Packers fans."

It was Harry's turn to laugh then. Amber noticed she really liked his laugh.

"How did you know we were?"

Amber shrugged with a smirk. "I thought it was common knowledge."

Harry's eyes narrowed, though they continued to sparkle and dance with glee. "Hmm."

A giggle slipped from Amber's throat after she took another sip of champagne. Soon enough, she had to excuse herself to the ladies' room. She was finally feeling loose and happy, not tight and nervous like before. She knew the bubbly had something to do with it, but she couldn't deny it also had to do with a certain British guy sitting at her table. He somehow made her feel at ease while also causing butterflies to dance in her tummy. She didn't know how he did it, but she was willing to spend as much time as possible trying to find out.

Harry could feel Jeffrey's eyes on him as he watched Amber cross the room to the loo. Clearing his throat, he lifted his glass to his lips, taking a long sip.

"Fuck, H," he heard Jeffrey curse low.

"What?" he finally looked at him, setting down his glass.

"Don't do it, man. Please don't go there."

"Don't go where?"

"I see the way you look at her," said Jeff. "I'm not blind."

"I'm not blind either," argued Harry. "She's a pretty girl. But I'm not interested in her that way."

"You swear?"

"Yeah. I like her. I wanna be her friend. That's all."

Jeffrey pursed his lips, not sure if he fully believed Harry, but he also knew Harry never lied to him.

"Besides, I think she could use one," Harry added.

"What makes you say that?"

Harry shrugged. "She just...seems rather lonely."

Jeffrey snorted. "She's in a band with four boys. Four southern, American boys. You don't think that has something to do with it?"

"Perhaps."

"Maybe she needs another girl to be friends with, not you."

Harry glared at Jeffrey. "You don't think I'm a good friend?"

"H, you're the best friend there is, that's not my point. It's not your job to take care of her. Platonically or otherwise."

Harry sat back in his chair and sighed. "I just wanna get to know her, Jeffrey. Is there anything wrong with that?"

"No," Jeff admitted. "Not at all. Just don't forget what could happen...if you step over the line."

"And what exactly could happen, Jeffrey?" Harry leaned forward, his eyes blazing.

Before Jeff could reply, Amber was making her way back to the table. Both men looked up and smiled.

"Well," said Jeff. "I suppose it's my turn."

Laying his cloth napkin on the table, Jeffrey excused himself and crossed the room.

"More champagne?" Harry asked, grabbing the bottle from the ice bucket.

"Mmm...maybe just a little," Amber smiled. "I think it might be going to my head. And my toes."

She let out another little giggle that she hadn't meant to. Harry chuckled though, as he poured the bubbly into her glass.

"Mind if I make a toast?" she asked. "Without Jeff."

"Of course."

"That came out wrong," Amber shook her head. "I like Jeff a lot, and I'm so grateful to him. I just meant...a toast to you...from me."

Harry's lips curled into a smile as he raised his glass. His gaze focused on the pink of her cheeks and the berry shade of her lips that she must have touched up in the restroom.

"Thank you..." she began hesitantly, "for your overwhelming kindness. You really do live up to your motto, and I couldn't be more grateful that you chose me and my band to join you on tour. I um...haven't had the best of luck in the past...even the more recent past...and I'm not exactly sure yet what you see in me. But whatever it is, I'm so happy the stars aligned this time. I only hope I can make you proud."

Harry's green eyes met her blue ones then, and for a moment he was speechless. Then taking a breath, he grinned and tapped his glass to hers.

"That was...more than a toast, love," he choked. "But thank you."

Amber groaned. "Too mushy? I'm so not good at this."

"No, no. It was lovely." Harry blinked slowly. "You're lovely."

He caught the blush in her cheeks deepening as she looked down and took a sip of champagne.

"By the way," he added, setting down his own glass, "I've been meaning to ask you. How did you come to know the lads in your band?"

Amber giggled again, quickly covering her mouth.

"Did I say something wrong?"

She shook her head. "No. Just...lads. That's so cute."

Harry rolled his eyes, feeling himself blush a tiny bit.

"Sorry," Amber covered her mouth again. "I'm not making fun. I'm just so used to hanging around frat boys all day, the British vernacular catches me off guard."

"Frat boys?" Harry laughed.

"Yeah, I mean, they might as well be. They act like it sometimes."

"So tell me about them," Harry folded his arms on the table. "I chatted a bit with each of them, just some pleasantries to get to know them. But I'd like to get your take."

"Well..." she paused and then giggled slightly. Harry liked her laugh. It was cute without being too dainty. "I'm not sure the word 'pleasantries' is even in their vocabulary. But they're good guys. I've known them all a while."

"Since school?"

"No. None of us went to the same school. Johnny's brother used to date my cousin years ago. That's how we met. He was actually in a different band then, a rock cover band. We used to go see them play, mostly at places I could go to since I wasn't twenty-one yet. But sometimes somebody knew the bar owner and got me in anyway. They would let me come up on stage and sing a song or two. When they disbanded, Johnny was looking for another group, and he already knew Carter who was a drummer, so they formed their own band."

"And they asked you to join?"

"Not at first," said Amber. "But I'd written a handful of songs, and I really wanted to find a band to play them. So I asked Johnny if he wouldn't mind trying them out with me. He thought they were great and convinced the rest of the band to give me a shot."

"And you said the stars didn't align," Harry commented.

"I'm giving you the short version," Amber smirked. "The interview version."

"Ah," Harry nodded. "Maybe one day you'll give me the long, 'confiding in a friend' version."

Amber's lips spread into a pretty smile. "Maybe. Are you saying you're my friend?"

"I hope so. I'd like to be."

Biting her lip, she tilted her head and pushed that stubborn strand of hair behind her ear. Harry's fingers itched to reach out and touch it.

"I'd like that, too," she said softly.

Jeffrey returned then, the waiter soon following, asking if they needed anything else. Politely declining, Jeff paid the bill and the three of them rose from the table.

In the lift, Harry leaned forward and whispered in Amber's ear. "Still nervous?"

"Yeah," she grinned. "But in a different way."

"How so?"

"I still have first night stage jitters," she said. "But I'm excited to have a friend."

Harry wasn't quite sure why, but he felt his hand reach the back of Amber's arm and slide down to her hand, giving it a squeeze. He smiled when she squeezed back. When the elevator doors opened to her floor, however, he was disappointed when he felt her let go.

"Have a good night, Amber," announced Jeffrey.

"Thanks, you too," she said, stepping out into the hallway.

"Goodnight, Amber," called Harry. She turned and caught his dimpled smile as he held the door. "We should do this again."

She tilted her head and beamed at him. He suddenly felt warmth ooze throughout his entire body.

"I'd like that, too," she repeated. "Goodnight, Harry."

She watched the elevator doors close before she turned and made her way to her room, the apparent giddiness still on her face.

"Hey, where've you been?" she suddenly heard behind her as she slipped in her key. With a jolt, she turned and saw Carter standing with his arms crossed.

"Oh, hey. I went to dinner," she replied.

"With who?"

"Harry and Jeff."

"Yeah? Just you?"

Amber caught the disappointment in his tone, but it was masked by the perturbed expression on his face.

"It was kind of last minute," she explained. "I met them in the elevator and they invited me."

"You could have called me," remarked Carter.

"Sorry. I didn't think-"

"Nah, of course you didn't," Carter scoffed. As he took a step closer, Amber could smell the alcohol on his breath. But the irony in his next words surprised her. "You've been drinking."

"So have you," she declared.

"Yeah 'cause you didn't show."

Amber frowned. "Did we have plans?"

"No. Just...night before a gig...you're usually nervous. I thought you'd be knocking on my door."

Exhaling loudly, Amber turned back to her door, inserting the key once more.

"Goodnight, Carter," she called as she opened the door and stepped inside her room.

Two hands grabbed her waist within seconds and pushed her against the wall, knocking the breath out of her. She whimpered as Carter's body pressed against her back, pinning her so she couldn't escape.

"You were drinking with him, weren't you?" he growled in her ear.

"We...we had champagne," Amber explained shakily. "Jeff bought it to celebrate."

"You like him?"

"Jeff? He's our manager!"

"No, fucking Styles!" Carter yelled.

"Get off me, Carter!" Amber shouted, finding some of her strength. Sliding her hand down the wall, she managed to elbow him in the ribs. He stumbled back, his eyes glassy.

"You fucking like him," he muttered, his words slurred.

"He's my friend," she declared, getting her bearings.

"I thought I was your friend."

Amber glared at Carter. His words had a pout to them, but his body and gaze still showed nothing but pure rage.

"Get out," she said.

"Huh?"

Amber dared to take a step closer, pointing to the door. "Get the fuck out of my room, Carter! Now!"

"Goddamn slut," he mumbled as he exited the room, the door slamming behind him.

Falling face down on the bed, Amber began to cry, her entire body trembling. Carter had been persistent in wanting to get back to...whatever it was they'd had. But this was the first time she'd ever been physically afraid of him.

It had to be the alcohol, she told herself. It wasn't him. He wasn't himself when he drank. He was just jealous and the booze fueled his anger. Tomorrow he might not even remember what he'd done.

Tomorrow was the first show of the tour. It was a big day. She couldn't lose her drummer now.

tagging: @freedomfireflies, @daphnesutton

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