PIPER

The roar of the crowd vibrates through the soles of my boots as I step into the blinding spotlight. The stage stretches before me, a vast expanse of glittering phone lights. My heart pounds in my chest, matching the deafening beat of the music. It's the final show of my first tour, and every cheer, every face in the sea of people, feels like a dream. I take a deep breath, letting the electric energy of the audience fuel me. This is it—my last moments on the Chance Tour, of course named after my first album Chance.

I've spent eight long months on this tour and here I was ending it in my town Nashville, Tennessee. I'd miss this... The rush the stage, the adrenaline the audience gave me. To be here is a dream come true and a dream I had imagined almost my whole life.

Half way through the show I take a moment to slow down the pace and take it all in. "I wanna take a moment to gaze out at all of you, feeling your love and support surround me." As I speak, I let my fingers softly strum the guitar slung over my shoulder, the gentle chords weaving through my words like a tender promise.

"You've been with me through every high and low, every triumph and setback. I wouldn't be here without each and every one of you. My heart is so full, it's almost overwhelming. Tonight is a bittersweet moment—I'm beyond happy to share this final show with you, yet sad that this incredible journey is coming to an end." The stage is a kaleidoscope of lights, casting shimmering hues of blue and gold across the arena. Behind me, the band waits, their instruments poised, ready to dive into the next song. The backdrop is adorned with a giant screen displaying memories from the tour—moments of laughter, sweat, and raw emotion.

"Thank you for believing in me, for cheering me on, and for making this dream a reality. This is as much your night as it is mine." Each strum of my guitar feels like a heartbeat, a connection to every person in the crowd who has been part of this incredible journey.

I gave the next hour all I had to the crowd and as the final notes of the encore faded, the roar of the crowd surged around me, washing over me like a tidal wave. The stage lights dimmed, casting long shadows as I took a deep bow, my heart pounding in rhythm with the audience's cheers. This was it—the last show of the tour, the final chapter in this incredible journey.

I stepped back from the microphone, giving one last wave before the curtains began to close. My bandmates and I exchanged triumphant smiles, the euphoria of the moment sparkling in our eyes. We had done it. As I turned and made my way offstage, the adrenaline still buzzing through my veins, I could hear the muffled cheers continuing behind me.

The backstage area was a whirlwind of activity, but the moment I stepped into the corridor, it seemed like time stood still. The crew, the team, everyone who had been part of this journey, were all there waiting. They erupted into cheers and applause, their faces lit up with pride and joy. My manager, Emily, eyes glistening, pulled me into a tight hug, followed by the tour director who patted me on the back with a broad smile.

"That's a wrap, superstar!" Emily shouted.

I was swarmed by hugs, high-fives, and pats on the back. My stylist handed me a bottle of water and a towel, both of which I accepted gratefully. There were congratulations from every corner, each person's face a familiar and cherished part of the tour's tapestry. I couldn't stop smiling, the sheer joy of the moment overwhelming any exhaustion I felt.

As I looked around at my incredible team—these people who had worked tirelessly day and night to make this tour a success—I felt a surge of gratitude. This victory was as much theirs as it was mine. I found myself wrapped in another embrace, this time from my best friend, Grace, who had been with me every step of the way.

"Thank you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, but I knew they heard me. "Thank you all so much."

Their cheers grew louder, and someone popped a bottle of champagne, the cork flying through the air and laughter ringing out. We toasted to the tour, to the memories we made and to hard work we all put into this. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered happiness, a perfect ending to an unforgettable tour

{*}

The neon lights of Broadway in Nashville cast a kaleidoscope of colors across the bustling street as we made our way to one of the most popular bars in town. The energy was electric, and it felt like the whole city was celebrating alongside us. My crew and I had chosen this spot to mark the end of the tour, and the excitement in the air was palpable.

Inside, the bar was packed, the sound of live music spilling out onto the street every time the door swung open. We pushed our way through the crowd, greeting familiar faces and soaking in the festive atmosphere. The band on stage was in full swing, playing a spirited set that had the entire room dancing.

Grace nudged me with a playful grin. "You should get up there!" I knew she was long past sober by the laugh that escaped her.

I laughed, shaking my head. "I don't know, Grace. It's their gig."

As if on cue, the lead singer spotted me in the crowd and waved me over. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've got a special guest in the house tonight! Let's give a big hand to Piper James, who just wrapped up her tour!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, and before I knew it, my friends were pushing me toward the stage. I climbed up, the adrenaline kicking in as the band handed me a mic. The familiar weight of it felt right at home in my hand.

"Thanks for the warm welcome, Nashville!" I called out, my voice amplified over the speakers. "Let's make this a night to remember!"

The band launched into a familiar tune, one of my hits from the tour, and the crowd went wild. Singing with the band was a thrill—an impromptu celebration that perfectly captured the spirit of the night. The audience sang along, their voices blending with mine in a harmonious chorus that filled the room.

As the song ended, I looked out over the sea of faces, all beaming with excitement and joy. This was my city, my people, and this moment was pure magic. The band started another song, a high-energy cover of a classic rock anthem, and I joined in, my voice soaring with the music.

Grace and the crew danced wildly in front of the stage, their enthusiasm infectious. I spotted Emily, usually so composed, letting loose and singing along. It was a beautiful, chaotic scene of celebration and togetherness.

When the set finally came to a close, I handed the mic back to the lead singer, who gave me a big hug. "You rocked it, girl! Congrats on the tour!"

I hopped off the stage, rejoining my friends who immediately enveloped me in a group hug. We laughed and cheered, the high of the performance blending seamlessly with the joy of the night.

Drinks flowed freely as we continued to celebrate, toasting to the tour, to the future, and to the incredible journey we'd all shared. I danced with Grace, our moves becoming more outrageous as the night wore on. The bar felt like a second home.

As the night grew late and the crowds began to thin, I found myself on the rooftop, looking out over the twinkling lights of Nashville. Gracie joined me, leaning on the railing beside me.

"Can you believe it?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder.

I shook my head, a smile spreading across my face. "Not really. It's been a wild ride."

We stood there in comfortable silence, the sounds of the city below us, the night sky above. This was the perfect ending to an incredible chapter, surrounded by the people I loved in the city that had seen me grow.

"Here's to many more nights like this," Gracie said, raising an imaginary glass.

I clinked my invisible glass against hers. "To many more."

We headed back inside to join the others, the celebration still in full swing. The night was ours, a beautiful symphony of friendship, music, and dreams realized.

As I reentered the bar from the rooftop, the pulse of the music and the buzz of conversation hit me like a warm embrace. I scanned the room, searching for my friends, when my eyes landed on a familiar figure leaning casually against the bar. Ben Morgan. The biggest heartthrob in Nashville, currently riding high with a #1 song on the country charts, and also happens to be signed to the same label as me. I'd met him a few times before, and every time, his charm and good looks were matched by a flirtatious demeanor.

His reputation was enough to keep him at arms link though. Too many times he's gotten bad headlines in the press. Drunken nights, woman after woman on his arm... the guy has a think for attracting trouble.

Ben spotted me and flashed that trademark grin, the one that made half of Nashville swoon. With a nod, he raised his glass in my direction, signaling me to join him. I hesitated for a moment, then made my way over, curiosity and a bit of caution warring within me. The alcohol must've been kicking in because any other time I'd be running the other way.

"Hey there, Piper," he smoothly greeted as I approached. "Heard you tore it up on stage earlier. Sorry I missed it." A relaxed smile played on his lips as he brought his beer to his lips.

I gave him a wry smile. "Just a little impromptu performance. What brings you out tonight, Ben?" Not that he needed a reason. It seemed like he was out on Broadway more than the bartenders themselves.

He leaned in slightly, his smile turning playful. "Just couldn't resist the chance to celebrate the girl who's about to steal my #1 spot on the charts. Besides, it's not every day you wrap up a world tour."

I raised an eyebrow, amused by his flattery but not quite buying it. "Is that so? Or are you just here to add another number to your contact list?"

He laughed, a rich, easy sound. "Ouch. You wound me. Can't a guy just want to have a good time?"

"Sure he can," I said, taking a sip of my drink. "But with you, I'm not sure if it's about the good time or the headlines." Yup, alcohol has kicked in.

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. "You think so little of me?"

I shrugged, giving him a teasing smile. "Just calling it like I see it."

Ben chuckled, his eyes not leaving mine. "Well I hope you see what you like then." His eyes glinted with mischief as he stepped closer, the energy between us crackling. "What if I told you," he murmured, his voice low, "that maybe, just maybe, I came here for something more than the charts or headlines?"

I tilted my head, curiosity piqued despite my better judgment. "Oh really? And what might that be?"

He leaned in, the scent of his cologne mingling with the faint trace of whiskey still on his breath. "To meet someone who sees through all the noise. Someone who knows there's more to Ben Morgan than the tabloids let on."

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. "That's quite the line, Ben." I reminded myself that he probably said that exact same thing to countless girls before.

He grinned, a boyish charm breaking through his confident facade. "Maybe it is. But it's the truth."

Taking another sip of my drink, I felt a rush of warmth, not entirely from the alcohol. "Alright, I'll bite. What do you want me to see?"

He leaned in even closer, his voice a soft whisper now. "How about the guy who just wants a dance with the most captivating woman in the room?"

I couldn't help but smile at his persistence. "A dance, huh? And what makes you think I'll say yes?"

Ben's grin widened. "Because I think you're curious about what it's like to dance with me too."

I raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in my eyes. "Confident, aren't you?"

He shrugged, unfazed. "Confident that you'll enjoy it."

I hesitated for a moment, then set my drink aside and placed my hand in his. "Alright, Ben Morgan. One dance."

As he led me to the dance floor, his hand warm and steady in mine, he leaned in again, his breath tickling my ear. "Just one? I was hoping for at least three."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Let's see how you do with one first."

The music enveloped us as he pulled me close, moving with an effortless grace that belied his reputation. "Fair enough," he murmured, his eyes locking onto mine. "But I have a feeling you won't want this to end."

"Is that so?" I asked, feeling the spark between us grow stronger with every step.

"Absolutely," he replied, his voice a delicious drawl.

For the first time that night, I felt the truth in his words, and as we danced, I realized that maybe, just maybe, there was more to Ben Morgan than the bad boy image after all.

We moved to the small dance floor, finding a spot among the other couples swaying to the music. His hand rested lightly on my waist, the other holding mine as we moved in sync with the rhythm. The world around us seemed to fade, leaving just the music and the warmth of his presence.

~*~

The sunlight pierced through the thin curtains of my hotel room, casting an unforgiving glow over the remnants of last night's celebration. I groaned, rolling over to bury my face in the pillow, but it was no use. My head pounded, a relentless reminder of the champagne and cocktails that had flowed freely. The hangover was brutal, a fitting testament to the intensity of the night before.

With a resigned sigh, I sat up slowly, every movement magnifying the throbbing in my temples. I glanced around the room, now strewn with confetti, half-empty glasses, and crumpled streamers—a visual echo of the wild party that had unfolded in downtown Nashville. My phone buzzed incessantly on the nightstand, a slew of congratulatory messages and photos from friends and family celebrating my accomplishment.

Dragging myself out of bed, I stumbled to the window and pulled back the curtain. The city was alive outside, bustling with its usual energy. But today, it felt different. This was the morning after my first world tour had officially ended and I danced with Ben Morgan. I couldn't shake him from mind this morning and I guess that's his whole appeal and why woman and some men are obsessed with him.

I splashed cold water on my face, hoping to shock some life back into my tired body. As I stared at my reflection, the reality of what I had achieved began to sink in.

The smell of coffee wafted in from the small kitchenette, and I followed it like a lifeline. One of my team members, probably sensing my need, had left a fresh pot brewing. I poured myself a cup, the warmth of the mug soothing in my hands.

A knock on the door jolted me from my reverie. I opened it to find my best friend and a couple of the crew, all looking just as rough as I felt but grinning nonetheless.

"How's the head?" Grace teased, handing me a greasy bag that I knew contained the best hangover cure in town—breakfast burritos from our favorite spot down the street.

"Throbbing, but worth it," I replied, taking the bag gratefully.

We gathered around the small table, unwrapping our burritos and exchanging groans and laughs about the night before. The camaraderie, the shared experience of both the tour and the wild celebration, made the pain more bearable.

As we ate, I glanced out the window at the vibrant city below. This was just the beginning. I had many more songs to write, many more shows to play, and many more mornings like this to recover from. But for now, I allowed myself to bask in the glow of accomplishment, surrounded by the people who had made it all possible. It was a perfect, messy, beautiful morning, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

As I nursed my coffee, the comforting aroma beginning to lift the fog of last night's festivities, a brisk knock sounded at the door. I exchanged a curious glance with Gracie before padding over to answer it. Standing there, impeccably dressed despite the early hour, was my manager, Emily, her ever-present clipboard in hand.

"Good morning, superstar," she said with a bright smile, her energy almost annoyingly infectious. "How's the head?"

I groaned, rubbing my temples for dramatic effect. "It's recovering. What's up?"

Emily stepped inside, barely giving me a moment to close the door before she was in full business mode. "I know you had a late night, but we've got a busy day ahead. Here's your itinerary."

She handed me a neatly typed schedule, and I scanned it, eyebrows rising as I read. "Meeting with Chanel to pick out a dress for the Grammys? Are you serious?"

Emily nodded, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Absolutely. They're expecting you at eleven. This is a big deal, and you need to look the part."

Grace, who had been lounging on the couch, perked up at the mention of Chanel. "Wait, Chanel? As in the Chanel? This is huge!"

I chuckled, the weight of the hangover lifting slightly at the prospect of such an exciting day. "Alright, alright. What else is on the agenda?"

Emily flipped through her clipboard. "After Chanel, you have a brief interview with Rolling Stone, then a photoshoot for the tour's commemorative book. We'll wrap up with a dinner meeting with the label to discuss next steps."

I let out a low whistle, feeling a mix of anticipation and exhaustion just thinking about it. "Okay, let's do this. But first, I need to get myself together. A shower and some strong coffee should do the trick."

Emily smiled, pleased with my determination. "You've got this. I'll be downstairs in the lobby. We leave in an hour."

As she left, I turned to Gracie, who was already rifling through my suitcase for suitable clothes. "A dress from Chanel for the Grammys," she mused, pulling out a pair of jeans and a sweater for me. "You're living the dream, girl."

I laughed, heading to the bathroom to freshen up. "Yeah, and it's only just beginning."

An hour later, I felt somewhat revived, my hangover a distant memory thanks to the invigorating shower and Gracie's relentless pep talk. Emily was waiting as promised, and we piled into the car, the morning sun casting a golden glow over the city.

The drive to Chanel's Nashville boutique was filled with a mix of chatter and quiet reflection. As we pulled up, the grandeur of the boutique was undeniable. My heart skipped a beat—this was a milestone moment, one that seemed almost too surreal to grasp.

Inside, the boutique was a world of elegance and sophistication. We were greeted by a team of stylists who ushered us into a private fitting room. Dresses of every conceivable style and color adorned the racks, each more breathtaking than the last.

Emily clapped her hands together, her excitement palpable. "Alright, let's find you the perfect dress for the Grammys."

The next few hours were a whirlwind of fabric, fittings, and mirrors. The stylists worked their magic, and with each dress I tried on, I felt a little more like the Grammy-nominated artist I had become.

As the morning turned into afternoon, I finally slipped into a gown that took everyone's breath away—a stunning creation of silk and tulle, delicate embroidery catching the light in a way that made it seem to glow. Gracie's eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and even Emily seemed momentarily speechless.

"This is the one," I whispered, turning to see myself in the mirror. It was perfect, a dream made real in fabric and thread.

Emily nodded, her professional demeanor softened by a genuine smile. "You're going to look incredible on that red carpet."

We left the boutique with the dress carefully packed and a sense of triumph. The rest of the day awaited, filled with interviews, photoshoots, and meetings, but for now, I let myself bask in the glow of the morning's accomplishment. This journey was far from over, and with each step, it felt more and more like I was exactly where I was meant to be.