Sunday as we were finishing clearing up the last of the dinner dishes, you asked, "Do you want me to take you home tonight or in the morning?" I don't know why, but my heart started pounding with anxiousness.

I asked uncertainly, "Do you want me to stay tonight?"

"I always want you to stay." Now my heart was pounding from excitement rather than nerves. You always want me to stay. It was everything I wanted to hear.

"But I have to get up at 4 to be on set by 5."

"Shit. I guess drop me on your way in the morning." There was no way I was going to pass up the chance to sleep next to you again. You were all fucking face rainbows when I glanced back up at you. I tipped my head to the side, grinning back. You bit your lip for a second, then asked me to come to a Hollywood party with you, and my nerves returned in a flood, a tidal wave, a tsunami. "I don't really have anything to wear."

You shrugged, the Maddie Turner shrug. It was a shrug that meant you didn't care what anyone thought. Which was huge, given that you had spent so long hiding. "What you always wear is fine." But while you may not have cared what people thought, in that moment I did. I cared that all my jeans had holes in them, that the edges of my nicest shirts were slightly frayed, that my boots were scuffed on the toe. I cared. I cared that I was going to be entirely out of place beside you, wearing off the rack clothes and surrounded by Gucci suits. I cared what people thought of me. I wished I didn't, but I did.

"What are you going to wear?" If you were going in jeans or something, I figured maybe it really wouldn't matter.

"A dress." Shit. You reached into your closet and pulled out a dress so slight it could have been just a shirt, and even then, there wasn't much to it. "This dress." Shit.

"Okay, I'll go." Seeing you in that dress would be worth enduring a little embarrassment for being the worst dressed idiot there. After we'd finished getting our stuff ready for tomorrow, we settled into bed, and I curled myself around you, a big spoon holding you tight against my chest. "Sweet dreams, love," I whispered into your hair, but your light snore let me know you were already asleep. I lay there for a little while longer, listening to the soft rhythm of your lungs at work, breathing in the scent of you, so uniquely you, until my eyelids fluttered shut. What a wonderful way to fall asleep.

You dropped me off outside my place so early the next morning. It was still dark out, and there was a frosty chill in the LA air that I had not yet experienced, mostly because I was usually fast asleep at this hour. I leaned across the centre console and kissed you quickly. You rested one hand on my cheek. "Thank you for being here with me," you murmured. "I know my life can be pretty dark sometimes...."

"I'll always be here for you, Maddie." We kissed again, and then you shooed me out of the car, saying that you were going to be late. It was quarter to five in the morning, so my first order of business was to get back in bed. I slept for another five hours. But it was an uneasy sleep. I dreamt of a desolate island overgrown with wild foliage and fraught with odd echoing sounds--rustling and wailing that floated through the trees in a sibilant, shrill symphony. I was trapped in a pit, desperately clawing at the walls to get out. Rats bit at my bare toes, and I whimpered and tried to kick them away, but they just kept gnawing at me. Water started pouring in from above, and when it reached beyond my head, I started to gasp and panic. I thought the entire island must be sinking into the sea.

Liam shook me awake. "Harry, mate, are you okay?"

"Hmmm? What? What happened?"

"You were gasping and almost like crying," he replied, deep worry furrowing his forehead.

I sat halfway up. "I was just having the weirdest, worst dream."

"No one likes to hear what you dreamt about, unless you dreamt about them," Liam sang.

"What?"

"Built to Spill."

"What?" His confusing comments were enough to disperse the unsettling feelings of my nightmare.

"Never-mind," he shook his head and sat down on the edge of my bed. "You're okay, though?"

"Better than okay," I smiled and laid back against my pillow with my arms tucked under my head. "I'm in love."

"Pfft," Liam rolled his eyes. "Of course you are."

"I'm serious, Liam. I'm utterly, entirely ankles over arse in love with her."

"Ankles over arse?" Liam laughed.

I shoved him off the bed. "I was trying not to be cliché. Nothing about her, about us, about this love is cliché.

"But how do you know it's love and not just infatuation? I mean, you've worshipped her for years, so--"

I was shaking my head at him the whole time. "I just do. For one thing, I know the real her underneath--"

"But it's just so fast." Again, I shook my head as he spoke. "You haven't told her you love her, have you?"

"Well, no, but--"

"Harry, it's too soon." Liam rested his hand on my leg. "You may think you feel it, but it's too soon to say it. You'll scare her off."

I shook my head resignedly. "I don't care whether it's too soon to feel it in your opinion, Liam. But I think you may be right about saying it so soon, and I love her too much to do anything to jeopardise what we have."

I got out of bed, and we went downstairs to have a late breakfast and catch up with Louis. We spent the next hour going over the lyrics I'd left for them, as well as the new ones I wrote over the weekend. I sang them my oh oh ohs for happily, and they nodded right away.

"Good shit, H," Louis nodded appreciatively, flicking the paper with his middle finger. "I love the sentiment of these lines, and I love that melody. We should add some lyrics for part of it that repeats in the same melody."

"Okaaaaay," I stretched out the word, uncertain. In my head, I just heard the ohs, not words. And in a way, I liked that. Like, my love you for left me incoherent and fumbling, as in reality.

"How do you feel about her?"

I looked at Liam nervously, then back to Louis. "I, well, I love her."

"Jesus, already?" I nodded. "Okay. What else?"

"Um, I don't know. What do you mean, what else?"

Louis shrugged, "Just talk until something catches."

"Okay. Well, she's really fucking funny. And gorgeous; she is so beautiful, and most of the time she's doesn't even realise how beautiful she is. And hot. Shit, she's so fucking hot. Like, I seriously cannot contain myself. And um, we fit. Like, she just fits like she was made for me." I kept talking and all the while Louis and Liam were scribbling notes. "And I don't know, it's like when I'm with her, I'm burning for her. Like a wildfire spreading through me."

"Catching fire."

"Whoa. Good shit," Liam nodded. "Until something catches. Ahhh," he chuckled at Louis, his eyes squinted shut.

Louis rolled his eyes. "Cos we're on fire, we're on on fire, we're on fire now. Yeah we're on fire, we're on on fire, we're on fire now. Oh oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh oh, we're on fire now," he sang in a low, raspy tone.

I picked up with him and sang along. "Yeah, I like it. And at the start of the chorus, add in 'I don't care what people say when we're together,'" I looked pointedly at Liam. He raised his hands in surrender. I sang, "I don't care what people say when we're together, you know I wanna be the one to hold you when you sleep."

"Yep. Perfect," Louis nodded decisively.

Liam nodded, too. "It's good, Haz. It's great."

We packed up our school bags, and Niall and Zayn joined us as we headed over to campus for class. As we made our way to the the college of arts and sciences building, we saw a group of girls collected by the little coffee cart and newsstand in the middle of campus, including my poetry collaborator Sam, and the ruckus of their raised voices drew all of our attention. We slowed to a stop, trying to see what the fuss was about.

"Hey, Sam. What's going on?"

"You know that tv star who comes here, Maddie Turner?"

I panicked for a second. "Yeah, I know her," I said slowly. Even though I had told Sam about the girl I liked, I never told her it was you. How did she know?

"Her mom basically just called her a liar for the whole world to see," she stepped aside, and I saw headlines blazoning the message that Matt's death wasn't a suicide.

"Shit," I turned away, pulling out my phone. I rang your number, but it went straight to voicemail. I left a quick message telling you to call me. Then I texted you the same. As I turned back to them, I said, "Oh, hey, Sam, these are my bandmates." I pointed to each of the guys in turn, offering introductions.

"Hi!" She awkwardly smiled and waved her long arms around, gesturing at the two girls with her. "Um, these are my friends, Nic and Elissa."

"Nice to meet you," I said distractedly. I put my hand on Liam's shoulder for a moment, leaning in so only he could hear, "Sorry mate, I'm gonna run and see if I can catch her on her way into class. I'll see you later." I trotted away from my own class and towards yours, but there was no sign of you. I sent you another text, asking you to message me when you got to school. I wasn't sure whether you'd seen the headlines, but I knew it was going to hurt you.

Finally, I gave up and went to class. Sam had saved the seat next to her. When I slid in late, she leaned over and whispered, "are you okay?"

I waited for a break in the professor's lecture. "Yeah, I just had to go find Maddie."

"Wait, what?" Sam pulled away with a look of shock. "You actually know her."

I frowned back. "Yeah, I said as much." She looked completely confused. When Professor Villegas told us to discuss the poem in our groups, I continued, "Remember the girl I told you I liked who seemed to like everyone else?" She nodded, and then a look of understanding dawned on her face.

"No fucking way," her eyes widened.

"She's my girlfriend, now."

"Oh my god, since when?"

"Like, last week."

"Wow." She said, turning away to look at her poetry book. "Congrats."

I was confused by her reaction. She had seemed to be so supportive when we spoke about you before. "Thanks," I said more to myself than to her.

"Sorry," she turned back. "I just didn't picture you with someone like her."

"What does that mean?" Of course, I'm not good enough. Well, fuck it. I didn't care anymore. I didn't care what Sam thought, or Liam thought, or the people at the fucking hot 25 whatever under 25 party thought. I realised that I only cared what you thought about whether I was good enough for you. "You don't even know her, or me for that matter."

"I'm sorry," she sort of whined. "I didn't mean it like that, really. You just seem so down to earth and nice, like you always push in your chair and clean up after yourself, and she's just this diva--"

"No, she isn't. She isn't at all, actually."

"There's no she in this poem," Professor Villegas tsked from beside my desk. "How about you two get back on task, or leave my class."

Fuck. "Sorry, professor," I glanced at Sam, who looked as bad as I felt. We turned our attention to the poem, dissecting the meaning and identifying the tropes used that we were tasked with incorporating in our next piece.

As we walked out of class at the end, Sam stopped me, resting her hand on my arm. "Hey, I'm sorry, Harry. I really didn't mean anything by what I said. I was just worried about you. You seem like such a good, genuine person, and Hollywood is such a shallow, fake industry--" I started to interrupt her, but she held up her hand and kept going. "I just don't want you to get hurt again, like what happened with your ex. Honestly. I'm sorry, I know how much it sucks when your friends question your relationship."

I nodded, not really ready to let it go. "Thanks, Sam. I've got to get going. See you next time."

I hurried to the carpark and saw that you'd arrived on campus, but you'd still not answered me. I didn't know exactly what room you were in, and I didn't want to poke my head in randomly, so I tried calling again. Nothing. I tried to think of reasons why you wouldn't answer that didn't cut me to my very soul. Like, your battery drained. Or you shut your phone off at work and forgot to turn it back on. Or maybe you just didn't want to talk to me or see me anymore and didn't know how to tell me. Fuck. I really couldn't allow thoughts like that into my head. I bit my nails as I walked to my history class.

Finally, halfway into the class, I got a message from you: my phone broke. I messaged back asking if you were okay, and as soon as you said no, I stood in the middle of class and shuffled across the row, making a spectacle of myself, apologising under my breath as I went. When I got out of the large lecture hall, I checked my phone again. You were sitting in your car, you said. I ran to the lot, and walked around to the driver's side of the Range Rover. Fuck, you looked miserable. Your eyes were puffy and red from crying, were still leaking with tears, actually. Your jeans were ripped at the knees, and the exposed skin there was marred dark red with fresh blood. My emotions were all over the place, torn between cradling you to me and shoving your mother down a flight of stairs. Okay, I would never actually do that, but seeing you physically and emotionally so battered was pushing me to extremes.

Without a word, you turned in the seat and wrapped your body around mine, clinging to me like a koala. I wrapped my arms around you as well and kissed your hair.

"I smashed my phone," you muttered against my chest.

I buried my head into your hair, kissing your neck through the loose strands. "Are you done with classes for the day?"

"No," your voice wobbled with emotion. "I have one more. It's starts in a few minutes."

"Are you going to go to it?" You nodded slowly. "I'll meet you here after, okay?" You nodded again. "Can you walk?"

"Yeah," you sniffled, sitting back and wiping at your face. "It looks worse than it is." How were you always so strong? Or was this just facade? Was I back outside the wall? "I can't fucking believe her, Harry. Every time I think we're making progress, she pulls shit like this. I just," you started crying again.

I pulled you into my arms again, my heart aching to see you in so much pain, and absolutely fucking hating her for causing you this pain. "Oh, baby, I know." I kissed your hair again, clawing my fingers through it in an attempt to soothe you. "I know she hurt you. Breathe, Maddie. You're going to get through this."

You nodded and pulled away again, looking down at your lap. "I know. I know. I have made it through worse. I can make it through this. I'm just so frustrated. I did the thing that is the hardest for me, I let the world in, and she fucking turned around and called me a liar."

I shook my head. "I know, baby. The people who love you..." I paused, wincing, and hoped you didn't notice, "they know the truth. That's all that matters. Don't let this stop your progress." You looked up at me, your dark eyes shining and your long lashes wet. "Let me walk you," I held out my hand. You put yours in mine, and I saw your hands were scraped as well. We walked slowly back to the film building, and I put both hands on your cheeks as we stopped to say goodbye. "I l--" I stopped myself just in time. "I'll see you after your class."

I skipped my last class, and instead sat outside the carpark, writing. Words were pouring out of me and onto the page. I wish that I could take you to the start; I'd never let you fall and break your heart. And if you want to cry or fall apart, I'll be there to hold ya. I'll be here for you. I would carry you over fire and water for your love. And I will hold you close and hope your heart is strong enough. When the night is coming down on you, we will find our way through the dark.

You showed up awhile later, not nearly as long as your class usually took, and I hastily tucked my notebook away. "I skipped out on my group," you shrugged. "They never let me do anything anyway."

"Let's get you home, then," I stood and put my arm around you, guiding you back to your car, which you again asked me to drive. Once we were back at yours, I followed you down the hall to your room.

"I really need a shower," you mumbled, turning away.

"Okay, love, I'll be here when you get out." You grabbed some clothes and disappeared into the loo. I tried not to think about you in there, naked, soaping up your body, but I failed, and worked myself into a semi. I really had no control around you at all. And I needed to get that in check. This was not a moment for making out, this was a moment to be tender and gentle and loving. Just remembering how you looked so small and shattered was enough to send my little guy back into hiding. When you emerged, though, with your long wet hair hanging over your shoulders, wearing nothing but a t shirt and panties, he nearly made another appearance. I diverted my eyes to your scraped knees, which looked much better after your shower. "Do you have plasters?"

"What?"

"Um, bandages?"

"Yeah, they're in one of the bottom drawers."

I dug around until I found various first aid items. Some antiseptic spray and gel and plasters of various sizes. I carried it back out to where you were sitting at the edge of your bed. I kneeled down in front of you and dabbed at your injured skin with a cotton ball coated in the antiseptic spray. You winced, and I muttered apologies as I blotted delicately. Then I squeezed the gel onto another cotton ball and spread it over the abrasions. Finally, I taped the bandages in place, planting small kisses at the edges of each, the outside of your knee, then the inside. Fuck. Bad idea. I shifted awkwardly as my cock sprung to life again. I stood and cleaned your palms with antiseptic, and kissed your fingertips, looking into your eyes as I did. You grabbed my shirt and pulled me to you, kissing me passionately. Oh, Maddie, it took such restraint to pull away, to tuck you into bed and not take it further. But you asked me to stay, and I did, cuddling beside you until you fell asleep, without even eating dinner. I wasn't sure if I was invited to stay the whole night, but I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye, so eventually I just took off my jeans and got under the covers with you.

When you woke me up in the morning, it was pitch black. "I have to go to work, Harry."

"Okay, I'm sorry," I mumbled sleepily, rolling over.

"You don't have to stay over," you said, pulling on a pair of black skinny jeans. You had your back to me, and I got a full view of your ass shimmying into them. "I know it's really early for you. For any normal person."

"Oh, okay," I nodded, dragging myself out of bed. I went into the bathroom to disguise both my erection and my hurt at the idea that you didn't want me to stay.

I didn't stay with you the rest of the week, though we had dinner together every night. With regret each night, I walked home to my single bed. And usually wanked it, thinking about you. Thinking about your body, our kisses, the sounds you made. I didn't even need to look at the racy pictures of you anymore; I had enough real-life experience with you to satisfy the fantasy.

Thursday night, after I watched the episode of Turning Pages, I finished the last of the lyrics to Happily. Seeing you looking so happy with Jonas definitely got under my skin. He held your hand and gazed at you so affectionately. And you rolled your eyes at him. My eye roll.

Then Friday, I went off to school and after class, Sam tugged on my sleeve to get my attention. "Hey, I just wanted to apologise again for the other day. I really was out of line. I judged her without knowing her, and that wasn't fair."

I nodded, smiling congenially at her. "It's okay. We've all misjudged people. I'm sorry I was so harsh about it."

"No, no. You weren't. Anyway, have a good weekend."

My phone lit up with your face, and I held up one finger to have her wait. "Hey, Maddie. One sec." I turned to her, covering the phone with my hand. "Thanks again, Sam. See you next week." She waved and walked the opposite way. I turned my full attention back to you, "Okay. Hi."

"Hi. Are you still coming with me tonight?"

What? Was this like the sleepovers? You didn't want me to anymore? "Yeah," I hesitated, "why wouldn't I? I can't wait to see you in that dress." I tried to sound casual, smooth, sexy. I'm pretty sure I failed. But I was relieved when you asked me to stay with you all weekend. "I have to work, though." My funds were drying up, and I couldn't afford to miss my shifts again. You were waiting there at the carpark, smiling at me through your windscreen. You got out and hugged me fiercely, pulling on the back of my shirt. It eased my fears, and I relaxed into the embrace, kissing the top of your head. We swung by mine so I could get Liam's suit for the party and clothes for the weekend, then we had a quick dinner and got ready.

You showed me into the guest room to change. I washed my face and brushed my teeth, then pulled on Liam's suit, but it didn't quite fit properly. It was too broad in the shoulders, and the pants were just a bit too short, and the waist too big, so I let them hang lower on my hips to compensate. I buttoned my white shirt up to the collar, but I hadn't brought a tie. I really hoped that wouldn't be an issue at the venue. I ran my hands through my hair, shaking it out and pushing it up off my face with a bit of hair wax. It stood up nice and high and shiny. Then I went out to the front sitting room to wait for you.

When you came out in that grey dress, I swear I think I stopped breathing for a good five minutes. It was so short, your thick beautiful thighs fully on display, along with your nearly healed knees. The material, where it did cover you, was so thin it seemed to skim over your skin like a whisper. I realised I was staring at your chest and flicked my eyes up to yours, holding your gaze. You had smoky grey makeup around your eyes, and a dark red lip colour. Oh that lip colour. It made me want to kiss you, to claim your mouth and see just how long it would take to smudge it all away.

"Are you sure you have to go to this thing?" I asked, breathless.

You smiled and shrugged. "Yes, but we don't have to stay the whole time."

"Good." I folded my arms around your back and kissed you, testing out that lip stain right away. Might as well... You ran your hands up into my hair and tugged, eliciting a moan from deep in my chest. I ran my hands down your bare back, and it became clear to me that you were not wearing a bra. Oh, holy fuck. "I am really hoping you'll let me take this dress off you later," I blurted, then immediately kissed you again before I could think too much about how much of an ass that made me sound. Oh god, these loose pants were going to be a problem. I was certain you could feel me pressing against your exposed thigh. I broke the kiss (your lip colour was perfectly in tact, by the way), then led you out to the car. I opened the door for you and watched you swing your legs in gracefully, revealing nothing. Not that I was trying to see what was under.

You tapped the screen of your sat nav and I drove us down the hill to West Hollywood, to the club where the party was being held. There was a huge line of photographers and a red carpet set up out front. "Pull up to the valet, here," you pointed. As I slowed the car to a stop, you looked over at me. "I have to do the red carpet. It can be overwhelming, so if you don't want to, you don't have to. You can wait at the other end."

"I just want to be wherever you are," I answered shyly, nervously.

You beamed at me, so beautiful. "Just don't answer their questions. They're trained to trap people."

"Not even my name?" I asked as the valet opened the door. I tried not to let it bother me that you didn't want me to talk to them. I pushed down my insecurities, and told myself to trust you. This was a completely foreign situation to me, but you had years of experience. You knew better than I what to do.

You laughed as you stepped out of the car. "No, you can tell them your name." You took my hand as soon as I got to the sidewalk, and you didn't let go until we were inside, which helped me relax somewhat. I was so impressed how you handled the media, smiling and subtly shifting your body into different poses, deftly handling their queries. My hands were shaking like crazy by the time we were inside, and I just couldn't imagine living like this all the time. You released my hand, grabbing onto my shoulder for a moment. "Give me just a moment to go say hi to some people, and I'll be right back."

I nodded and watched your departing back, so sexy under the pale grey criss-crossed pattern. A waiter walked by, carrying a tray of shots. "Are these for anyone?" He nodded mutely, and I took two, downing them quickly. I don't usually drink much, not anymore, but that night, I needed the liquid courage. I was surrounded by actors and musicians I watched and listened to regularly, whom I had grown up admiring. A different waiter passed with a tray of fruity cocktails, and I grabbed one of those and drained it, too. Just enough to warm the blood and fend off the nerves.

You returned just as I set the empty glass on a table. I slipped a piece of gum into my mouth to cover the liquor, and you wrapped your arms low around my waist, resting your head for a moment on my chest. "Hi," you murmured.

"Hi baby," I squeezed you tighter then released you. You led me further into the place and introduced me to a few people. I didn't say much, just cordial hellos and how are yous. You and some actress I've never seen before got into a brief conversation about some director and how strong his work was. I just stood by, clutching your hand and nodding as if I knew what you were talking about.

A photographer snapped pictures of us from across the room, moving closer and closer. Just as he reached where we were standing, Jonas walked by. "Hey, Maddie, can I get a shot of you and Jonas real quick?"

"Oh, sure," you looked up at Jonas and released my hand to wrap your arm around his waist. I took a step away, grinding my teeth as jealousy flooded through me, but I saw your body tense as he leaned closer and muttered something into your ear. You struggled, trying to push yourself away from him. I moved closer, ready to intervene, if needed, but you looked like you were handling him all right.

And before I could even fully grasp what I was seeing, you slapped him. The smack seemed to echo through the room, and his face transformed from wicked mischief to absolute rage. It was a bit of blur to me, but I remember the second he raised his hand as if to hit you, I pounced, punching him in the jaw. I had never hit anyone, ever in my life, and let me tell you, it fucking hurt. But I wasn't thinking about that. I wasn't thinking at all, anymore really. I was just hitting him. Over and over.

~~~~~

Thank you as always for reading! I feel privileged to have so many people reading my work. It is like living in a dream.

Please vote and comment. Oh, and it's my birthday Monday, so maybe you could share THE OTHER ONE with your friends and followers as a birthday present!

And happy Valentine's Day, a couple days early. 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹