(Jordyn's POV)
I've been waiting in line for hours now. Even though I already bought my ticket for the floor, I still have to wait in line behind all the general admission people. Which I don't mind, really. It's nice to meet new people. Especially people who love Hart as much as I do.
Well... I wouldn't go that far.
I was one hundred dollars short of getting VIP passes, but the seats behind them are the next best thing, so I'm grateful for that.
When they finally open the doors everyone goes mad. People are shoving their tickets in the poor security guards faces. I make sure to be more polite.
I get inside and literally run to my seat. And the waiting was worth it. I am about the twentieth person to get in my seat. Everyone else is too busy buying merchandise that will soon be sold out.
Why am I not one of those people, you might ask? Because I don't have enough money to buy anything else. Not one bottle of water. I barely had enough money to buy a ticket in the first place. I for sure don't have any money left to spend on merchandise.
And besides, people usually get merchandise as a souvenir. But every concert I go to, I always keep my ticket for a souvenir, so that's good enough for me.
I've been looking forward to going to this concert for months now. The ticket was more then I've ever spent-or considered spending on a ticket. And I've never had enough money to purchase a good ticket before.
And by good, I mean close enough to the stage where I can actually see the singer without needing to rely on the huge screen their face is plastered on.
I had to take money out of my savings to get the ticket but it's going to be worth every penny. It has to be worth every penny. It's front row for Christ sake! Front row at the my first Hart Sloan concert.
In a way, I have been waiting for this concert since I was sixteen. That's when I discovered Hart's music.
Before you curse me for not listening to him sooner, you should know it really wasn't my fault. I was never aloud to listen to pop music when I was a kid. But we'll get into all that a little bit later.
Even though I'm only twenty and only had to wait a few years to get to one of his shows, I feel like I've been waiting for an eternity. But I'd wait a hundred years if I had to for him.
Was that too much? No, I think it was the right amount he deserves. Right?
I'm not going to pretend that I know Hart personally because I don't. And a meet and greet hardly qualifies as meeting a person, no matter if they want you to believe it is it or not. I just want a chance to really know him. Not a chance to get a selfie with him like a million other people have before. I want to have a moment with him that's one of a kind. Is that too much to ask? If it is, I don't care.
Call me crazy, but I think my plan might just work. It's a longshot, but if Hart's as nice as he seems to be, a miracle might just happen tonight. And I pray it does.
Before your curiosity consumes you, I'll let you in on this little plan of mine.
Long story short, I bought this bright yellow poster board and I've written one sentence on that sign. Which is, "Hart, I wrote a song for you!" His reaction, small or extreme will change my life. Whether it's for the better or worse is one hundred percent up to none other than him.
But if by some one in a million chance he actually wants to hear the song, I will finally get my one of a kind moment with the person who saved my life through music.
Please don't get me wrong. I in no way think that some music producer will watch the video of me singing-that I'm sure someone will take-and signed me. That would be using Hart for his fame and I would never, ever do that. I just want Hart to know how he has changed my life and me singing my song for him would allow me to do that.
Truth be told, I don't even want to sing it for him in front of all those people and I will ask him if there's a possibility I can sing it to him alone. That is if the opportunity presents itself to start with. But if he says 'no' then I'll be forced to share it with everyone at the show instead of just with him.
Whichever way I get to share it with him won't matter to me because either way, I'll get to share it with him. And I will be eternally grateful for that.
About an hour and a half later the lights shut off. The anticipation is nearly about to make my chest explode as the crowd surrounding me reaches their highest volume. The energy is this arena is electric. Every nerve in my being is on end.
The curtains finally rise up and I see him. My breathing stops dead in my lungs. My eyes immediately become glued to him. It's so serial at first, to just be able to look at him. He's painfully beautiful.
How can a person be that attractive?
His body is sculpted perfectly subtly, minus his tight jaw. His green eyes are piercing, his lips pink and full.
A brown curl tries to escape from his head but doesn't get far. It hangs above his brow for a moment before he pushes it back into place. This is when my attention is pulled to his many rings invading his long fingers.
He's wearing these shimmery, mustard yellow pants with a floral design on them and a sheer black shirt. I swallow as I take in all of his tattoos. Well, at least all of them that are able to be seen by my lousy eyes.
I have to mentally remind myself not to focus on just his angelic looks. He's so much more than that. I can't wait to hear him be his cheeky, yet humble self. Along with his clumsy self. The thought of his tripping over something brings a grin to my already smiling lips.
Realizing I've been zoned out for long enough, I force myself to get out of my head and sing along with him. He sounds even better in person. He continues to blow me away with every lyric he sings. I consciously stop myself from singing along after a couple songs to save my voice.
You know, just in case.
Once he reaches the end of his third song, he greets everyone with a warm welcome.
"Hello, Greenville. How is everyone doing tonight?" He asks politely through a British accent I've come to adore.
The crowd just screams in excitement
Please see it. Please see it, Hart.
Saying one last prayer, I throw my sign up.
"I hope everyone is doing well and is having a nice time. Thank you so much for coming. I love each and every single one of you, truly." He explains genuinely.
With my head still behind my sign, I hear silence linger from his microphone and I accept that I've missed my chance. Peeking my head out of the corner of my large poster board, I find his eyes on my sign. Holy shit, I curse in my mind. Not being able to find the ability to say the words aloud.
Hart squints his eyes a bit and says, "Hart, I wrote a song for you..." It's now that he meets my eyes and every bone in my body freezes. My stomach drops to my toes and my heart races at an unhealthy speed.
He's really looking at me. What the fuck do I do now? I ask myself.
"You wrote a song for me?" He repeats.
All I mange to do is nod my head.
"What's your name?" He wonders with a welcoming smile.
Good question, Hart.
I wish I could tell you, but my mind is totally blank. I'm speechless.
Jordyn! If Hart asks you a question, you answer!
I swallow before answering after a few dragging seconds. "Jordyn." I try to speak loud enough, but my suddenly dry throat does work to my advantage.
"Sorry, what was that?" He asks taking his earpiece all the way out of his ear and letting it rest on his left shoulder. He cuffs his hand behind his ear.
Damn, that's cute.
"Jordyn." I say louder with determination for him to hear me clearly this time.
"Ah, Jordyn." He repeats nodding to himself.
My name sounds so much better when he speaks it.
"May I hear this song, Jordyn?" He smirks curiously.
I nod my head once again. I can barely talk, how am I going to be able to sing? I mean, when words fail, right?
"Lovely, come on up." He gestures towards himself.
Alright Jordyn, this is where you walk. I move slowly through the crowd. Every person around me moving closer to me instead of making room for my feet to walk. Anxiety consumes me as thousands of eyes lock on my every movement. I'm nervously shaking and accident prone. Not a great combination.
Do not fall. Don't you dare fall on your face-or ass in front of Hart.
I could care less if two-three thousand people see me fall, just as long as one of those two or three thousand people is not Hart.
A security guard walks me to the steps and I take my sweet time walking up the them just to be safe. I somehow manage this task without tripping over my own two feet, to my utter surprise. But the nights not over yet. I still have the challenge of walking back down the stairs, I remember.
Hart hugs me instantly. I sure hope when he lets me go I'll still be able to stand. If not, I'm screwed.
Holy shit, he smells amazing. As in, intoxicatingly amazing.
He speaks a little loud in my ear over the crowds excitement. "Are you alright?" He ask, probably sensing my scattered nerves flying about.
Ignoring the butterflies in my stomach that appear when I feel is breath on my skin, I answer. "Yeah, it's just... I would rather sing it to you in private and not in front of all these people, but I don't know if that's an option..." I explain loudly and nervously in his ear as his hands hold my arms, keeping me steady.
Thank god.
"Sorry," he fakes an apology, his smile breaking his sincerity. "But the fans are dying to hear it. I can't let them down, now can I?" He shoots me a smirk as he looks down at me, his face dangerously close to mine. I have to tilt my head up to meet jus his eyes. He's a whole head taller than me, plus a few inches.
I sign my understanding and quickly accept plan B.
Of course he's a smooth talker, why wouldn't he be? "I guess that's fair." I roll my eyes at the fact I'm losing the argument before it's even begun. Something that doesn't go unnoticed by Hart. Even over the curios crowds screams, I catch his chuckle at my actions. Or myself?
"Listen, you'll be great. Just pretend we're alone and you're singing just to me. Alright, love?" He says loudly to my face instead of my ear this time, to my disappointment.
Did I not hear him correctly or did he just call me, 'love?'
He places his large hands on my shoulders and looks intensely in my eyes. "Think you can do that?"
"Yeah." When I shrug through my unsureness a smile breaks it way through my nerves and lands on my lips.
"Great! Can't wait to hear it. The stage is yours." After he's led me to the mic, he steps aside and leaves me in front of the blinding spotlight all alone.
I decide I will be more comfortable resting my shaky hands on the microphone that lays in the mic stand instead of letting the mic visibly shake in my hand for the crowd to see. And Hart, of course.
"Um, hi." I begin with a timid voice, then force myself to portray confidence as I continue. "I'm Jordyn Marshalls. Is everyone having fun?" The crowd goes wild.
I glance at Hart to see a proud grin pulling at his lips. With that to ease my nerves, I continue the task at hand.