I enter the MSG Arena through the back entrance, my duffle bag hanging over my shoulder, my hair still slightly damp from the shower I took just before the driver picked me up at my penthouse.

I turn left and make my way to my dressing room, the backstage halls of the arena so familiar by now, it almost feels like home. We've been in New York for two weeks now, and we're only halfway through my 15-shows residency at Madison Square Garden. All of my shows are sold out and so far every single one of them has been amazing, and running smoothly — thanks to you.

You became my personal assistant only a couple of weeks before my tour started, about a year ago, and you've been doing an amazing job since then. Not only are you incredibly professional, level-headed and reliable, you're also a person everyone just likes to be around — kind, polite, caring, always carrying a smile on your beautiful face. Everyone likes to be in your presence, and well, maybe I even like it a bit too much. But can you blame me? You're not only a feast for the eyes, you're also so smart and funny and just easy to be around.

We've become quite close over the past months of touring; we go for morning runs, we do yoga sessions in hotel gardens, we go out for lunch or dinner, or we just lay on the floor of our hotel rooms balconies, stargazing and talking about anything and everything. And I can't deny, that there might be something to that whole friends to lovers thing.

After putting my bag into my dressing room, I decide to go looking for you. I walk along the backstage area, greeting crew members and arena staff here and there until I finally reach the stage, where I find Sarah setting up the drums for tonights show and Mitch tuning his guitars. A bit further away I spot you talking to my creative producer and light engineer Baz, both of you looking up at two stagehands standing on scaffolding, trying to follow your instructions to adjust the lamps.

You've turned your back towards me, so I'm actually able to watch you for a bit, until I feel someone patting my shoulder. "Should I get you a bib or can you manage to control yourself?" Mitch asks, his voice holding way too much amusement for my liking and Sarah just laughs from behind the drums. "Shut up, I'm not drooling." I grumble, trying to act completely nonchalant to your presence. "No, but it's not far off." Mitch states as he focuses back on his guitars. "Just ask her out, H." Sarah laughs, and I just groan in annoyance before I start walking towards you. 'Just ask her out.' — easier said than done.

I sneak up on you as inconspicuously as possible and once I'm standing right behind you, I lean forward and rest my chin on your shoulder before I speak softly right next to your ear. "Hello there, how's my favourite PA doing today?"