Always In My Heart

Chapter 9- Green Eyes

I stand in the large, bathroom mirror, a towel wrapped around my waist as I attempt to style my unruly hair. I comb my fingers through the damp locks, biting my tongue gently, concentrating hard.

I have to look perfect tonight. This could be the start of a very successful art career for me. That is all I've ever wanted, and I'm not about to let my stupid hair ruin this for me.

I patiently blow dry it, carefully making sure the pieces of hair fall exactly how I want them to. I use a comb and progressively work some gel into it, styling the perfect quiff. When I have finished, I admire my hard work in the mirror with a smile. I am so relieved that I was successful in styling it this well.

My face is still a bit flushed from the hot shower I just had. I run my hands down my face, examining the very light stubble that has started to appear just recently. I silently debate on whether I should shave or not. I blink at my reflection in the mirror, contemplatively. I think I'll leave it.

I kind of like it!

I walk into the bedroom and over to my suitcase that is lying open on the floor. I slip on a pair of boxers, my favorite ones, for good luck. Then, I walk over to the closet where I have my tuxedo, hanging flawlessly, steamed to perfection.

I carefully get dressed, taking my time to make sure I do not wrinkle any portion of the tux. I sigh in relief when I finish dressing. I walk over to the full-body mirror hanging on the wall in the bedroom. I fix the collar of my shirt and tighten the strap on the vest. Then, I complete the look with the fitted jacket.

I am almost frightened by my positive thoughts, but damn, do I look good!

I grin as I stare at my reflection, examining every inch of my body. Everything has to look perfect. I blink, concentrating, as I adjust my bow tie carefully.

I had a good night's sleep so it looks like I won't be needing the under eye concealer. I glance over at the clock that reads, '6:34.' I need to get going. It's definitely better to be early than late.

I walk over to the door, holding onto the crown molding as I slip each shoe on. As I bend over to tie my shoes, I feel the material of my pants hug my behind tightly.

This is exactly the reason why I rented a smaller size than I usually do. My ass is one of my favorite qualities about myself. So why not show it off to a bunch of celebrities tonight?

Slow down, Tomlinson.

I instantly get butterflies thinking about being in the presence of so many amazing people this evening. I am unbelievably excited and anxious to get going. I slip my phone, wallet, and room keys into the side pocket of my pants, looking once more in the mirror before leaving. I switch off the lights and head out into the hallway, allowing the door to close behind me.

I walk down the hallway to the elevators with confidence and grace, the walk of a successful man. I smile to myself and look down at the floor as I walk.

Oh, how far you have come already, Tomlinson.

I press the down arrow and wait for the elevator doors to open. I step inside and stand with my arms behind my back, going over my prepared answers for the expected questions I may receive tonight. I swallow hard, suddenly becoming very nervous. Not only will there be celebrities and the richest of the rich in attendance, but also critics. I have prepared myself for any insults or criticism I might receive concerning my painting. But then again, Louis William Tomlinson is a sensitive person. And Louis William Tomlinson gets his feelings hurt easily. I begin to hope I have prepared enough for this event. Let's hope my 'stupid, gay painting' doesn't get butchered too bad.