One Look | Harry Styles

When one stunning performance leads to the downfall of your career, there's only one thing you can do...

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1. Chapter One | The Performance

The audience glanced up at the stage, each of them waiting for any sign of movement so they could start roaring like wild animals. I exhaled and began my long journey to the centre of the stage, my legs shaking making it feel as though I was walking on water. A loud cheer came from the audience as I made it to the white ‘x’. This is what they’ve been waiting for.

I plastered on a fake smile and fell to the floor, a small rest for my shaking legs. Then the audience let out loud cries of fear as a large mysterious man made his way from the opposite side of the stage, dressed completely in black. Once he had managed his walk of shame to the middle he placed his rough hands on either side of my waist, and then the music started.

As I was raised from the ground I sent fear into the eyes of the audience, who were perched on the edges of their seats wanting to claw at the face of the mysterious male. He set me on my feet and I spun out into a twirl, my hair raced around my body as though it was a silk ribbon performing beautifully to the rhythm – its own attempt to steal the show.

Meanwhile, the large man posed viciously remaining on the white ‘x’. I turned to him and started to run, he hoisted me up in the air and then a gust of wind hit me frantically grabbing my pink chiffon dress and pulling it in different directions, the wind tugged on my hair jealous of the stunning performance it managed to pull off moments before.

The music came to an end. I stared out to the adoring audience, all of who were stood up. My first standing ovation. A tear formed as I grabbed my co-dancer’s hand, we took a bow and I blew a kiss to the audience. He pulled me up for a hug, probably still in shock that we managed to perform so exquisitely when just weeks ago we were tumbling over each other’s feet.

We were beckoned off stage and graced with bouquets of gorgeous flowers, my manager pulled me to the side in one swift movement, “Chelsea this is your last performance.” I swayed backwards slightly from the news. I somehow managed to pull the knife that had just skewered my heart and find my voice.

“What do you mean my last performance?” I held the flowers close to my chest as a shield, trying anything in my power to stop the last part of my heart breaking.

“We have received a large amount of money from an anonymous donator, their only request was that you never perform again.” She smiled. Money over friendship, “You may continue to dance, you will just never step foot on a stage again.”

“You saw that audience; you’ll probably lose a hell of a lot more money stopping me from performing than what this anonymous buyer has given you.” I growled lowering the flowers slightly.

“Trust me, we won’t.” She sighed and started waving to somebody behind me, she greeted a petite blonde girl about the same height as me with a stunning resemblance to Blake Lively. I faced away from the cheering group of people and sat on a stool, wiping my performance makeup from my face.

Why would anybody pay to see me stop dancing?

“Are you ok, love?” I looked around quickly, startled by the sudden voice. The group had moved on to the next room to celebrate a victorious performance, “Well, I guess not… especially after hearing the news that you’ll never step foot on a stage again.”

I froze and waited for the voice to continue, “Especially after hearing somebody paid big bucks for you never to step foot on a stage again.” I stood up from the stool and turned around.

 

That’s when I saw him.

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