Chapter Twenty

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Outfit above is Brittany's outfit for the concert.

Chapter Twenty

Brittany Dawson

"If I am not on a different tour with a different band in five minutes, I quit!" I yell, my chest heaving up and down from my sudden rage.

"Brittany, calm down," Roger, my manager, sighs. "Look, I know you have a past with this guy, but this is a huge opportunity. Don't let your past with him ruin your future."

"No, Roger." I shake my head. "I gave you specific instructions on what type of bands or singers I wanted to be touring with. Amanda is that. 5 Seconds of Summer is not."

"Amanda doesn't even sing the same music as you. 5 Seconds of Summer sing the same genre as you, Brit-"

"Roger, stop." I glare at him. "I'm not doing it. I refuse you."

"I didn't want to do this," he exhales.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Do what?"

"Well, you're under contract," he states. "How exactly do you plan on leaving?"

I let out a groan, sinking into my chair. "I can't believe I didn't find out I was joint-touring with Amanda and them until now."

"I knew you wouldn't agree to it unless it went this way," Roger explains.

"Damn straight," I mutter. "Look, I'm just gonna go take a nap and get rested up for the show tonight."

"Don't forget soundcheck at three."

"I won't."

I exit the room of my manager, entering my room just down the hall. To my surprise, someone is already sitting on my bed. A wave of nostalgia hits me as I meet familiar eyes.

"What are you doing in here?" I ask, walking over to my suitcase to search for something comfortable to wear.

"I came to talk to you," he replies.

"About?" I roll my eyes.

"Brittany, look," he sighs. "What happened was fucked up, okay?"

"Obviously," I scoff. "I wasn't the one in the wrong. I was two hours late. Big fucking deal."

"As I was saying," he glares at me before continuing, "we were good friends before. Let's not let one incident ruin that."

"Luke," I chuckle, "nothing happened between you and I. I have no problem with you. It was your bandmate that ruined things."

"I just didn't want there to be tension between all of us," he says.

"Oh, there will be tension," I state. "Between Michael and I. That's it."

"Just try and be professional for the sake of the tour, okay?"

"I'll try, but I'm not promising anything," I declare.

"Good enough."

"As good as it'll get," I murmur to myself.

///////

"How are you doing tonight, LA?" I cheer, hands gripping the microphone tightly.

I'm answered with screams and chants, causing a smile to erupt on my face.

"She actually is an awful singer. I have no idea why any of you came tonight," my band member and close friend, Collin, joked (he's the drummer).

"Are you ready for some Green Day?" Our bassist, Matt, asks.

This Year's Love // Michael CliffordWhere stories live. Discover now