Nostalgia (noun): a sentimental longing or wistful affection for a memory/things of the past.

NOW

Montana   

I have a theory on nostalgia and I don't like to share it seeing as the only person I did share it with didn't last long after. He flashes through my mind as I run out of the interview and straight out the doors. I run and run until I reach the hot sand and then the icy cold blue water. I let the waves engulf me, praying for them to take me with them.

Salt water fills my mouth and it arrogantly froths against my skin, matting my hair and clothes. It washes away quickly like I am a disease, ignoring my prayers to take me with it.

What was it about self-pity that made it feel this terrible? It was an awful and disastrous feeling and I sit on the wet sand because of it, my tears mixing in with the salt of the sea as I let the torrential downpour of self-pity and heartbreak roll over me.

Calum.

Sometimes, I say his name in my head, over and over again hoping it would lose all meaning but it doesn't. You don't ever really lose the meaning of your favourite memories, nostalgia was ruthless that way. 

Calum.

If you look close, maybe you could still see the traces of his touch left behind on my skin like a gel that glows in the dark. I pick up a handful of sand and rub at my forearm, the sound of my violent sobs drowned out by the sound of the waves hitting the rocks and the distant seagulls.

Calum.

The love of my life. Rub, rub, rub. My skin turns red and the stinging calms the deep wrenching pain in my chest.

Calum.

Another wave hits me, soaking me from head to toe this time and it's like a splash of bravery in my face and salty water in my mouth. "Fuck him." I fist my hand, throwing the sand into the water. I don't need him, so I've been telling myself for the past six months.

"Fuck him!" I shout louder into the sea, the lump in my throat dislodging a bit.

My forearm stinging, I stand up, wet sand sticks to my legs and arms.

He is a memory of the past. He is my new theory of nostalgia.

"You're okay," I say into the wind as it blows my hair away from my face, agreeing with me. Fisting my hands at my sides, I walk back into the building, shutting off my heart. 

"You're okay."

_______

Gia comes looking for me at my apartment, armed with my dress and shoes for tonight's gala and I snuggle deeper into my covers, refusing to talk to her or anyone. 

"Leave me alone." I croak, the bed sinking as she sits next to me. 

"You can't run out of interviews like that, especially ones that are being aired live." I want to snap at her, tell her that I already know that. But I can hear the exhaustion in her voice and I feel worse than I already do. 

I remain quiet because I can't console her whilst I wallow in my pathetic self-pity.

"Well, I can totally leave...with these boxes of Tim Tams...just gonna go..." She continues and I quickly push the covers away, the cold air hitting my face as I glare at her. My efforts are futile as I reach for the box with a whine.

She moves them out of my way, clicking her tongue. "Get in the shower and let Erin do your hair, then you can have them. The gala is in two hours." There's pleading in her eyes and her tone but there isn't any happiness in my heart to be a considerate human this afternoon. 

"Shove it up your arse!" I pull the covers back over my head.

Gia leaves with an exasperated huff, leaving me alone like I asked but the peace doesn't last long as my manager, Catherine, storms in this time with a bunch of people behind her. Erin, my stylist, a photographer and two other people I didn't know who were now seeing me in my sleep deprived, self-pitied, hungry, messy state.

They've probably seen this state a lot, it happens to the best of us. No one ever tells you about this part of the fashion world when you're a hormone driven teenage girl and your only goal in life is to be like the model on the glossy pages, flashing their bodies in the industries half assed pieces of cloth that they call fashion. Smiling at the cameras and getting all the boys sounds fun until the boy breaks your heart and you can't smile anymore.

I am not a pig! I want to shout at them. I deserve a fucking day off to cry!

"Montana, you are running late. What has gotten into you? You are never late." Catherine, my dear manager who I really do love but can't stand on most days, states in her high pitched voice.

"My OCD is taking a break." I murmur as I stand up, huffing into the bathroom past them and locking the door behind me.

I stare at myself in the mirror. Hair a mess and stringy because of the salt from the water this morning. My large white t-shirt, the only comfort in the world, covering my internally bruised body.

I think of my sister who used to tell me that it was just a bad day, not a bad life while we laid on our beds every night when we were young.

I was at a point where all my dreams were coming true, my face was plastered on most billboards and magazines, my schedule was busy to a point where I practically lived on an airplane. I just never thought I wouldn't be happy.

But this was my life now. This was my job, this was my career, this was what I left the comfort and familiarity of New York for. I can't afford to be pissy about it now. It would be like an astronaut giving up seconds before a rocket launched into space. This has taken all I have and I had to keep going.

It's a bad day, not a bad life.

Sighing through my nose, I get in the shower. Determined to get through the night with all the grace I can muster until I'm back on an airplane.

~~

Calum

I'm already a bit drunk. I think as I stare at the back of Luke's head. Somehow, his head was more amusing than this gala was ever going to be; which helped me come to the conclusion that I was indeed, drunk.

We are about to go on a red carpet and I'm more certain of the fact that I'm probably going to fall on my face than I am about the existence of God.

That dude is messed up too, I mean, look at us! He fucked us all up pretty bad, giving us these things called "feelings" and "hope" and all the other shit to go with it.

I look up at the sky for a lighting bolt headed my way when I curse at him but the Sydney sky is calm as usual, pink sunset slowly turning into the night.

"Right Calum?" Luke asks, turning to me and I blink at him, seeing about five people staring back, waiting for an answer to a question I didn't hear.

I nod my head, plastering a smile on my face. "Right."

I was never much of the conversationalist and no one gave a fuck anyway. I look down at my clothes, I don't recall who gave these clothes to me, I think someone even did my hair at some point tonight.

I would have remembered if it was her, she would have pulled me closer by the lapels of this jacket and kissed me till I had all the control I needed in the palm of my hand.

Now I couldn't even see straight as we are led towards the red carpet and the cameras go off while I try to remember what this gala is for. "Dude..." I turn to Ashton, who smiles like the sun at the camera. I bet the guy behind it must be blinded.

"Why are we here again?" I ask under my breath.

"Celebrity fundraiser." He states, squinting his eyes at me like I'm an idiot.

"When is the after party?" I turn to Michael who looks at me like less of an idiot.

We are led off the carpet and at the back of my head, I hope I smiled for the pictures. "Uh...after?" Michael replies.

"No shit." I snort but don't elaborate my question because really, who has that much energy?

"You said you won't drink before an event. Everyone is here tonight and you're fucked." Luke brings his head closer to mine, murmuring it like a threat in my ear.

"I didn't tell you shit when you were fucking up so don't tell me shit when I'm fucking up," I say it out of spite and Luke moves away, flinching a little.

I'm an asshole. Using his past against him was cruel, but I did it time and time again. "I'm sorry." I apologize silently and he waves his hand, dismissing it as his phone rings in his pocket.

We are led into a grand hall with dimmed lights all around. White circular tables donned with gold drapes spread around the room. Large parties were stressful but at the least, I could hide in a corner and hopefully not have to speak to anyone.

As we enter there are people everywhere, greeting each other. I grin, say a polite hello and wave like a robot, not registering any of their faces at all.

After what feels like forever of us standing around, we are led to a table and we sit. Soon after, there is another buzz of activity as someone else comes in. Luke turns in his seat to look at who it is, everyone at the table does.

I stare at the glint of light reflecting off the champagne glass in my hand, not bothering to check who it is.

"Montana!" Someone sat at the table next to us says and the glass in my hand breaks before I can decipher what my own hand did. The champagne spills all over my suit and I stare at the pieces of glass in my hand, my heart pounding in my chest as blood drips down my wrist and onto my pants.

"Calum, fuck dude you're bleeding." I hear Michael and Luke fuss on either side of me.

I turn in my seat, the sound of glass crunching making me nauseous.

"Calum..." Someone calls but I don't register it as the crowd moves and I see her, smiling the way she used to against my lips. Her eyes drift to the girl next to her, and then her eyes flicker to mine, her feet moving an inch in my direction before she stops dead in her tracks.

_______

Montana

Step to the side, turn, jut out hip, arms straight down at sides, smirk, wink, blow a kiss, flip hair over shoulder, repeat.

If you do that enough times, you can perfect it in your sleep.

This white dress I was in was beautiful, it was like a long piece of shiny white silk wrapped around my body for the sake of modesty, one tug at the right place and it'll all come undone. Brilliant and all because I'm trained to not trip in heels and reveal myself to the entire world.

The gala looks like it's in full swing. After the red carpet, I'm taken away from the horrendous, yelling photographers and into the hall; more cameras flashing as people come up to me, asking me questions at the same time.

"You look lovely!"

"Thank you!" I smile in the general direction the compliment came from.

"Montana, are you ready for the gala tonight?"

"Of course," I gesture at my dress like "hey, I'm already here!"

There's a flurry of activity and I'm introduced to a lot of new people I try very hard to catch the names of. "It's very nice to meet you," I tell a man who kisses me on the cheek. I fight the urge to wipe it off. 

Gia and I have perfected the art of her whispering their names nonchalantly into my ear and me proceeding to greet them like I owe them my life.

I honestly am the worst, my management should probably fire me.

I'm told to smile for a cameo when there is the sound of shattering glass somewhere nearby. It isn't that loud over the noise of the people around me and the flash of cameras but I hear it.

Gia swears under her breath next to me. I look down at her and seeing her slightly widened eyes, follow her gaze only to have my gaze land right on the only person I didn't expect to see, Calum.

I'm momentarily blinded, it's a laugh worthy moment really, like straight out of one of those chick flicks. For a second, I think it's my brain short circuiting but it turns out to be the bright flash of a camera.

Calum.

There are people surrounding him, a line of red going down his hand as Luke Hemmings, his band mate and my best-friends fiancée, wipes it with a napkin. Calum's face is ashen and his hair is tousled. Not the styled-to-look-like-he-just-got-fucked tousled but the he-has-tugged-at-it-multiple-times-with-frustration kind that I'm the only one capable of telling apart. I've tugged at those strands a lot.

His eyes don't waver from me even when the staff clears glass away from the table. He stares at me, his eyebrows furrowed and my sudden need to move towards him and smooth it out with my fingers is devastating in all its fucked up glory. I take an unconscious step towards him.

There is a tug at my hand and the next second I'm turning, my view of him being blocked as Gia gently drags me away in the other direction.

My eyes stare into nothingness where he was just a second ago. "Montana, snap out of it." Gia squeezes my hand in her warm one, tucking my hair behind my ear and handing me a glass of a cold liquid.

"Montana, you have three seconds to snap out of it. CEO of Gucci is heading this way." She warns and I blink, seeing the clear liquid in the glass in front of me.

I lift the glass to my lips, my body switching to natural instinct. I gulp it down and it fizzes down my throat and in a silent corner of my mind, I hope it bursts like a firework.

The bubbles pop in my mouth and for the first time in the last minute, I draw in a breath of air and let it fill my lungs.

Calum.

Calum is here.

----

The gala starts; I sit in my chair, my back ram-rod straight, my eyes glued to the speaker on the stage while the people around me clap and murmur.

All I can think about is how if I strain my head to the left a little, I'll see him. After six months, we are in the same room again; just feet apart.

No. I look down at my plate, trying to think of which green leaf I should stuff in my mouth and pretend like I didn't want to puke all over this table.

Calum.

I wish I had some loud music, rock music maybe to drown out the sound of his name beating in my skull. But then I hate rock music because we used to slow dance to rock music.

Calum.

I gather all my willpower and stand up, trying not to do it abruptly and topple the chair backwards. "Excuse me." I murmur politely to whoever wants to hear it and make my way out of the hall not daring to turn my head and look at where I saw him when I first came in.

I ask one of the waiters where the bathrooms are and he takes a second, probably wondering if he should ask me for a selfie first or show me the bathroom. To my relief, he decides on the latter and I make my way, smiling and waving at people who recognize me. 

When I get closer to the bathroom, I hear squeals coming from inside and I can only imagine a number of women in there so I turn on my heel again with a sigh, making my way to the elevator nearby. I've been to this place many times before and I know they have bathrooms on the second floor as well. Ones that are much more peaceful so I can actually pee in peace and give myself a pep talk.

As I get into the lift and wait for it to open again on the next floor, I pat myself on the back for not breaking out into tears yet. I was being a real soldier today.

The doors open and like I guessed, the corridors are quiet except for a few people who are discussing something in hushed tones a bit further down the corridor. They look at me momentarily but I quickly turn left, walking towards the bathrooms.

A higher being must really be laughing at me today because as I look up from my dress, the door to the men's bathroom opens and Luke steps out, followed by him and the chemicals in my brain, heart and body all go haywire with just a moments notice.

Calum.

See, fucking chick-flick, I told you so. 

________

A/N:

How do you guys like this so far? If you're a new reader of mine, I hope you check out my first book in this series called Never Enough :) it's Luke's story.