Out of Line [Kristian Kostov]

~2~

~ Kris' POV ~

I had never seen her before, at least not that I could recall. I was familIar with all of my team members, the producers, the journalists; and yet I'd never seen her around. My gaze quickly moved to the floor as she realised I was staring at her.

"Shit." I thought. "How long had I been looking at her?"

For that moment our eyes met, I felt something - something I had never felt. I awkwardly fumbled in my pockets to grab my phone in an attempt to appear casual but I could sense her looking at me.

"Hey, It's Kris isn't it?" She called in my direction.

"Is she talking to me?" I thought. "I guess she thinks I'm some sort of creep."

I walked over hesitantly, her gaze fixed upon me whilst I continued to focus on the movements of my feet. I don't understand what had come over me, I was normally so confident socially; but with this girl, this girl I had never even talked to, I felt nervous.

"Yeah, I'm Kris." I answered. "How do you know my name?"

"Kris, I'm backstage at your concert, do you really think I wouldn't know who you are?"

I guess I wasn't thinking straight. If she didn't know who I am what would she be doing here? To think she knows who I am... it make me happy at the thought.

"So what's your n-"

"Your show was amazing tonight!" She interrupted.

She mustn't have heard me I guess. When I'm nervous talking to someone my words often become muffled. No matter what I plan out to say in my head I still seem to mess up.

We talked about music and tour - even the topic of Eurovision came up. I normally hated talking about that subject, it brings back awful memories of the politics and my stupid defeat - but with her I could talk about anything. She laughed as she swept back her soft, blonde hair - it was mesmerising. She was funny too, laughing and both my jokes and her own. I could have talked with her for the entire night if I had the opportunity. It wasn't long though, felt like seconds, before our conversation was abruptly halted. Was our conversation actually short or did the time just fly?

What's the deal with time? It seems that it is a varying concept. The moment that you are brought into a state of happiness, the seconds are whisked away right before your eyes. It's unfair, really. The best moments should be cherished and yet all we ever focus on is how quickly they become dismissed; forgotten in vortex of time.

It was Misha. I completely forgot that I had agreed to meeting him several minutes ago.

"Who were you talking to?" He asked as he approached me, hands in pockets, casual as usual.

"Oh, I was just-"

I was suddenly cut off by the realisation that she was gone. The girl I was talking to just moments before had left without warning, not even a goodbye. I frantically looked around the backstage area but there was nobody there except a few members of backstage crew.

"You were just what?" He replied, clearly confused by my cut-off response.

"It's nothing, let's just head back to the hotel before we get too tired."

"She most likely didn't realise the time and forgot she had to be somewhere," I began thinking of plausible reasons for her leaving, "it happens to me all the time so I wouldn't blame her at all."

The hotel was only a few blocks away from where the concert took place, so we decided to just walk home. Outside were a few members of press; the usual ones who wait after every concert hoping for an interview.  My mind was too heavy for that, too focussed on the wrong things and as it was an unorganised interview I politely declined.

The walk back to the hotel was slow. We didn't talk, nor did we seem to even acknowledge each other's presence. The streets of London at night were truly breathtaking. The moonlight of the late hour glistened on the puddles on the ground that were brought by the typical British weather, something I wasn't used to at home. Nonetheless it was still nice to have a change from the blaring sun of Varna, the previous and first location of the tour. That's the thing about travelling the world, everywhere is totally different; even within the same city you could be faced with completely different people and cultures. I had visited London in the past, but had never ventured to this area. Trafalgar Square, where I was previously, seemed much more grand and dated - not that that's a bad thing at all - whilst only a few miles away here in Leicester Square lights were buzzing and you could almost feel the energy. For some, the night was only beginning, for me; however, it was definitely coming to an end.

When we arrived at our hotel the lobby was silent. By now it was long after midnight so we quietly shifted into the lift to take us to our rooms. Misha and I were staying on different floors; him on 6 and I was on 4. We stupidly booked our rooms last minute so it was all we could get. As I reached my floor I bid Misha goodnight and headed for my room where I longed to take a much needed rest.

I inserted my key card into my hotel room door: 104. I was immediately met by the mess I had left my room in but I didn't care, I guess you could call it a beautiful mess. I kicked of my shoes; removed my jacket and rolled in bed. As the familiar warmth of the duvet met my skin I almost felt at home, even if I was on the other side of Europe, it was a strange feeling. What a day it had been.

A/N

Hey guys, thank you so much for the support on my first chapter. Sorry that this chapter was so overdue - I was having trouble writing but thanks to fluuoride I was able to finish this part.

Xx TextingKris