I wrote this for my best friend, Christina. It was her Christmas present. I've finished the first seven chapters and decided to post it just for the fun of it. Don't be too harsh, its my first full fic and I have no beta. I hope you enjoy:)

xxxx

"It's pretty rare that an intern's first day on the job is taking on one of the biggest acts in pop music, not one, but two nights in a row and the latter being New Years Eve none-the-less. Tonight, you get your bearings and tomorrow, you'd better be ready."

As if I weren't nervous enough, She-bitch McSkeletor Legs had to throw that encouraging word in for me.

"This is Christina and she'll be interning with us for the next three months." The woman called Julie, with the nasally voice and the frizzy blonde hair informed the four stage hands as they busied themselves with the lighting for the show that night.

"Nice to meet you." The man named Carl smiles and extends his dirty, calloused hand. I take it politely trying to ignore the way he smells like tobacco and diesel fuel.

The other three just nod their heads and continue with their work.

"This way! I'll show you where the dressing rooms are." Julie quip as she hurries off stage left and behind a row of speakers. I rush behind her, not wanting to get lost. This place is a bit of a maze and the last thing I need is to end up God-knows-where in the middle of a massive panic attack. That would look really great for my first day on the job.

Luckily, the sound of Julie's stilettos echo through the halls, the obnoxious "click-clack! Click-clack!" making it impossible for me to forget where she is. I make sure to take a mental note of all the turns I have to take to get to the dressing rooms.

Left down hallway C, right down B, left down A, left down 1, right down D.

"Here!" Julie spins around, shoving a clip board into my chest and flashing me a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. Fake people are my favorite. No, really…

"You'll get one of these every morning. They're the riders for the bands and performers that will be here each night. Your job is to set up the dressing rooms and have them in ship shape before our guests arrive. Whatever they want, they get. No questions. Or Doug will have your head. Got it?" she chirps. I nod and stare down at the rider in my hand for the band playing tonight, not actually reading it because my hands are shaking so hard it that the letters are blurring together.

"Oh, and you'll need these as well. This is a company credit card. Purchase anything we don't have in storage with it and fill up the Element when need be. I don't care how small the purchase is, ALWAYS get a receipt. You'll be doing a lot of running around so be ready!" with that, Julie thrust a set of Honda keys into my hand as well as a sleek, black credit card that is a good four times thicker than my crappy Chase card and heads back down the way we had come.

"Come, come! I'll show you where the company car is located. There are a couple of different ways to reach the garage. Use your ID to swipe the lock at the door and you'll be able to access the second floor where we keep all of the vehicles that belong to the venue. Everything make sense so far?"

My head is reeling with all of this information, but I can't look intimidated now, so I am quick to assure her I understand while trying to memorize all of the doors and stairwells and things we are heading through to get to the garage.

Back down to hallway 1, take a right, second door on the left, stairwell 1B-

"Ah! Here we are!" Julie swipes her badge along the small reader at the door that reads "Garage Access 4", the light blips green and we enter the dimly lit, damp garage of the venue. My hands began to sweat and I tru not to drop the car keys as we male our way over to a blacked out Honda Element with tint so dark on the windows I don't know how I'm going to see out of them to drive.

"Alright, sunshine! This is your car for the night. Take a peek at the list of things you'll need and you can head downtown to get ready. Our act tonight is a pretty big deal so do us all a favor-" she pauses then and finally looks me in the eyes. "Don't screw this up."

My heart sinks like an anchor into my stomach and I think for a second that I'm going to throw up but I swallow hard and nod my head as she flashes a quick, snotty grin and hurries back through the garage door. The sound of the metal slamming back into its frame as she leaves echoes through the halls.

And then, I am alone.

"Breathe, Christina." I coax myself, taking a big deep breath in through my nose and letting it out shakily through my mouth.

I can do this. I'll show Julie and all the rest of them, too. Disappointment is NOT an option.

Remembering the clipboard in my hand, I look down and let out one loud guffaw as I read the first few things on the list.

A gold bathrobe, mid-thigh length, size medium

Loads of tea

Paint balls in all colors

Two gallons of organic Apple Juice

All the wine

X-box live

Twelve packages of AA and AAA batteries.

Candles that smell how you think Katy Perry's bedroom would

I sigh and shake my head. Whoever this 1D band is that this list belongs to, they are obviously out of their damn minds. Tonight is going to be interesting for sure.

Xxxxx

Downtown was a nightmare and I felt like I was being led on a wild goose chase. It took me visiting seven different department stores before I found a damn gold bathrobe and I couldn't begin to tell you how I expected Katy Perry's bedroom to smell. I honestly thought about just buying a slew of bacon and vanilla frosting candles and calling it a day. That would probably be a really bad idea considering I wanted to actually keep this job, but I would get a good laugh about it. In the end, I just ended up with some sweet smelling jasmine and green tea candles and a couple of fresh flower votives and called it good.

The Element is packed full with bags as I return to the venue. I swipe my ID card and the garage doors lift and I gasp at the size of the bus that has parked on the first floor sometime while I was away. It's mammoth size and shiny green paint job is breath taking. These assholes must have a lot of freaking money!

I pull slowly into the garage and head up the ramp for the second floor, peeking in my rear view mirror just as the bus doors open. A pile of young men bound down the steps and onto the cement, the last of whose face I can't see but the glimpse of the back of his head made me want to run my hands through his lovely, dark, curly locks just to feel how soft and full they are. Any girl would be jealous over this head of hair!

Rounding the corner back to my parking space, I can't help myself. If the back of this guy's head is that ridiculous, I can only imagine what his face must look like!

I throw the car into park and leap out, racing to the railing overlooking the bottom floor in hopes that I can catch a glimpse of his face. He is just rounding the corner when I peek over and catch a glimpse of the back of his baseball shirt with the sleeves pushed up and the insanely tight, black jeans he's dawning that accentuate his ass very nicely.

Turn around! I mentally plead, but he continues around the side of the bus and out of my line of sight. I hear the chatter and raucous laughter from the guys below once they disappear so I wait a few minutes. I duck from view and hold my breath so I won't get caught, but they never emerge.

Sighing, I give up my creeping to return to the task at hand- dressing room set up. The guys are already here so I need to get a move on.

Thankfully, I remember how to get back to the dressing rooms and am able, though it took me nine trips to the car to get everything out, to get the room decorated, smelling good, and fully stocked a full twenty minutes before the guys are even due to take over. It feels good. I feel accomplished.

Smiling proudly, I take one last look at my masterpiece and with a skip in my step, I head back toward the garage. Julie was going to meet me at the car with my next set of directions and to show me the other couple of entrances to the second floor.

Julie doesn't seem too interested in making sure I know how to get where I'm going. Her phone beeps every thirty seconds or so, making it increasingly hard for her to focus on training me. All of the directions to the different parts of the venue were starting to mush together and become insanely confusing. Eventually, it won't be so difficult, but I'm ready for eventually to be now.

"Okay doll, I'm really sorry. I have to run back to the ticket box. We're having some issues with Will-Call. You'll be okay here, yes?" she babbles and I nod. "Oh! I need the envelope for Doug with all of your receipts from the day. If I don't get those to him immediately, he'll have a fit."

I hand the envelope over and she doesn't even bother to make eye contact or thank me, she's still lost in her cell phone. She spins then and heads for the door, adding "And make sure to triple check your list! Always have plenty of back-up incase they run out of anything and again! Don't screw this up!" She calls over her shoulder as she rushes out of the garage and again, I am alone.

I roll my eyes and flip her the bird just to make myself feel a little better and then I triple check my list. Walking back to the car just to be sure, I peek inside and notice the small black bag wedged between the front seats and I slam my forehead against the window.

"SHIT!" The batteries. Maybe I could make it back to their dressing room before they get there. Then again, if they were already there, maybe I could get a look at Sex-hair's face. This was a win-win situation, right?!

Snatching the bag from the front seat I tear off down the hallway and back toward the dressing rooms. I press my ear against the door and listen. Silence. Maybe they're sound checking. I knock quietly just to be sure and creep inside.

Empty.

I unload the bag of batteries into a fancy little basket on the back table and crumple up the bag. With a sigh of relief, I walk back to the hallway and close the door as the sounds of laughter and chatter fill the hallway.

They're here.

In a panic, I take off in the opposite direction of the approaching lads and slide around the corner, crouching down to wait. I had to see his face; just once.

"I call bull shit! I call bull shit, Niall!"

British.

Fuck me.

"Ohhhhhh! OH! OH! What NOW?!"

"Piss off, Louis!"

Hysterical laughter.

My heart is racing. What if they catch me? What if Julie does? Or even worse, what if Doug finds me here like this? The voices grow louder, closer.

"Total bullshit." Comes the first voice again.

"S'not either ya cheeky bastard!" the Irish brogue of whom I can only assume is Niall rings out. I cover my mouth with my hand to keep the giggle that is threatening to escape from getting out.

Is Sex-hair British? Irish? Maybe he's Australian. This band seems to be a bit cultured. Regardless, accents are hot and so was his hair and I almost hope he's a butter-face because I'm becoming increasingly obsessed with this mystery faced man that I would probably never see again. Hell, even if I did, with money and fame and hair like that what would he want with me? Some fair skinned brunette that was working her ass off to "make it" so she could know the ins and outs of the business and maybe tour manage while she wasn't acting in movies… eventually… some day… hopefully.

I shake my head.

I should just get up and walk away with at least some shred of dignity.

But curiosity killed the cat, and it damn sure would do the same to me.

And by curiosity, I mean Sex-hair, because there he is in all his glory. The absolute most stunning man I've ever seen in my life. He is all lean muscle and wind swept curls, emerald eyes and smooth dimples and fuck-all gorgeous! Tattoos peek out from the sleeves and collar of his shirt and I have the sudden urge to run my tongue over the wings peeking out from under his collar bones. I bet they taste like honey and sweat and boy.

Jesus, Christina! Get a grip!

"I am cheeky, aren't I?" he laughs, his grin making his dimples stand out proudly against his flawless skin and perfectly white teeth. British. He's British. Mother-of-God.

Slowly, shakily I stand, wiping the sweat from my hands onto my leggings; my breaths coming out in staggering puffs as I back slowly away from the wall. How the hell could one man-one very beautiful, very British man- have such an effect on me without ever uttering a word to me? He doesn't even know I exist.

Until now…

"AH!" I didn't even have time to think about the startled yelp that escaped my lungs as I collided with the body standing behind me.

The first couple of guys had already gone inside but, oh so lucky for me, Sex-hair and Niall stop half way through their dressing room door to peek back around as a very red-faced, mortified me turns to look up into the eyes of Carl, the stage hand.

"Er-sorry there Christina! Didn't mean to startle ya! I was leavin' the bathroom and I saw ya crouched down over there and wanted to make sure you was feelin okay!"

SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! I wanted to scream, but I just stare, slack jawed and totally humiliated up at Carl. This was not seriously happening right now.

"Oh, I-uh… I dropped… I dropped my clip board was all I-uhm… Hey! You wouldn't mind showing me back to the stage, would you? I need to… I have… stuff and… things… to do." I stumble over my words, the hair on the back of my neck prickling against my skin and sending shivers up my spine.

I could actually feel him staring at me. He was probably wondering why the hell a venue of this caliber would hire a girl as nutso as me to work for them. Some girl who liked to stalk the acts each night and watch them go in and out of their dressing room. Real professional.

My chest begins to tighten. I have to get out of here; away from Sex-hair and the dressing room of death and the stupid, fucking batteries that were the whole reason I even had to come back here in the first place.

"Harry! C'mon!" I hear Niall yell from behind me.

Harry. What a lovely name.

As Carl leads me toward the door, I chance a glance behind me and my heart stops dead in my chest. He's standing, one hand clasped around the door frame, the other arm being tugged by some unseen member of the band from inside the dressing room. Our eyes meet. It's a brief encounter that steals the breath from my lungs as the door begins to swing shut and the corner of Harry's mouth quirks up into a sweet little grin. I nearly cry at the loss of his attention. I want to go back to that moment and live in it eternally. I want to stare into those brilliant green eyes forever.

I want to get some freaking help because I was becoming slightly obsessed with this guy that I'd just embarrassed the shit out of myself in front of and this was the least professional thing I'd ever done in my life. Oh my god!

I should have paid attention to where we were going, but I can't get my head out of the last five minutes to really care. Before I know it though, Carl has stopped and is holding the door open for me that leads out to the side stage. I shake myself from my thoughts and thank him as I stagger down the steps, still reeling.

I need a drink. I think sourly. Hell, why not just wait until they're on-stage and sneak back into their dressing room? There was no way they were going to finish all that wine, after all. Maybe their groupies would. But screw them. I bought the stuff. Sort of.

"There you are, darling!" Julie catches my arm and drags me off away from the stage and thankfully, as much as I have a strong distaste for this woman, her instructions for me get my head back in the game and I am able to calm myself down.

Christina-1 Crazy-stina-0!