Melanie's P.O.V.
"Everybody, let's get moving! Go go go!"
Fuck.
I rubbed my eyes and sat up in bed. For a small bus twin bed, it was pretty comfortable.
I had my neck propped up on several pillows, about a million throw blankets swaddled around me, and cool silk sheets that felt like heaven pressed against my skin.
I grumbled, knowing I couldn't stay there.
"Melanie! You up?" Even after I assured Joe I was, he swear he never left the door.
"Melanie?"
"I'm up!" I groaned, smoothing out my wrinkled t-shirt and yawning. "Do I need to change?"
"There are changing rooms inside the venue. Just hurry, we're all waiting on you!"
I ran my fingers through my tangled hair and pulled it back in a ponytail, not caring how messy it looked before slipping on a pair of flip flops and grabbed my things.
Upon entering the place, I was ushered quickly into a hallway by a woman with a Bluetooth in her ear, cradling a clipboard as she waved me to a room that was labeled with my name on a piece of paper.
Lucky for me, I had a room for myself while the guys had to share one.
I was instructed to change and then report to the cosmetics room.
I kept it simple. I didn't want to be skipping around stage in a dress so I stuck with a pair of black skinny jeans, a leather jacket and white top, and black ankle boots. I felt happy with my appearance until I looked in the mirror.
Jesus Christ.
I was totally breaking out. Not to mention my hair, though currently under control, was a ratty mess.
Hopefully it was something that the stylists could fix.
A knock on the door made me jump as I pulled my hair out of its ponytail and attempted to battle it with a hairbrush.
"Melanie, the stylists are ready for you."
Maybe it was time to give up on my hair.
The moment I walked into the room, about a dozen people swarmed around me.
I was practically shoved into a seat and a woman immediately began working on my makeup while another person I couldn't see worked on my hair. I felt a sharp burning sensation on my scalp now and then, so it was clear they were curling it or something like that.
Ow.
"Sorry!" the woman apologized after burning me for the umpteenth time.
A woman who was hard at work on my nails sighed. "Nat, you do the nails. I'll work on her hair. You're going to burn her hair off!"
I couldn't see them of course, because I was ordered to keep my eyes closed. I could feel a smooth brush tickling my eyelids, causing me to twitch a bit.
"Try to keep still, sweetie. You're almost done."
I swear I had no time to feel nervous. People were constantly asking me questions and working on my appearance and tuning my guitars. That is, until I was finished with the preparations and I had some time before I went on.
"Melanie, you're on in fifteen."
Oh, god.
Melanie, breathe.
B r e a t h e.
You can do this.
Perhaps.
I was loathing in my anxiety so long, I forget one crucial thing I had to do before I sang in front of thousands.
How could I have forgotten about warming up?
A deafening knock and a sickly sweet voice reminding me that time was ticking away sent me into overdrive.
I practiced my breathing and voice exercises, and by the time I finished, I was down to three minutes until I was live.
I only had time to sing a couple of songs from my favorite Broadway musical, Wicked. The pieces from that musical were great at warming up my vocal chords.
"Melanie, it's about time for you get on stage."
Holy shit.
Deep breaths.
You've got this.
You've practiced.
Did I take my medicine?
I jogged through my memory for the crucial answer to this question, when I remembered I had taken it this morning.
Thank god.
I cleared my throat and wiped away the sticky sheen of sweat that was beginning to form at my hairline.
Don't fuck anything up, Melanie.
I grabbed my acoustic guitar and took one last look in the mirror before I stepped out into the limelight.
I'm really liking this book right now.
I hope you guys like it too.
Oh, and if you haven't found out, I've started writing a Frerard fanfiction.
So check that out if you want.
Don't forget to vote and comment!
-Liesl :3
