The next day, I didn't wait for you to pass by my usual spot by the carpark. I knew I needed to find you, to apologise for what you'd heard...but I was so scared. I just couldn't face you yet.

Instead, I spent my free time with the lads in the music room, rehearsing for the showcase. We decided to play our older songs (stuff maybe you heard on our YouTube), like Change My Mind, about my friendship with Abigail turning into more, written years later, obviously. And Little White Lies, about the night I first met Fern, out at a club, and what I thought would be a one-off. And Midnight Memories, about the drunken escapades Fern and I and all our friends shared in London.

But I had a new song.

"I know it's last minute, but it's pretty straightforward," I said to Liam and Louis that morning. "And I've got a melody in mind, if that's okay."

"Let's hear it," Louis shrugged good-naturedly. We had a process, which we stuck to pretty solidly: I wrote lyrics, Liam and Lou paired them with melodies they'd created, then Niall and I added the rhythm. Zayn was really fast at picking up lyrics and melodies, so he often learned new songs a day or two before the shows. So, it was out of turn, me writing the melody. And I was glad they didn't mind.

I sang it to them, my voice cracking a couple of times, especially when I sang, "your words cut like knives," and "if he's the reason that you're leaving me tonight."

Liam looked at me intently, quietly. "It's great, Haz. What's it called?"

"Tell Me a Lie."

Louis coughed out his water. "Harry," he chided me, "no."

I looked up at him sadly. "I don't want her back, Lou. I just...I just wish I didn't know." I rubbed my hands over my face. "It would be easier if I didn't know."

"Shit, man, life would be easier if I were rich, if we had a record deal, if if if." Louis threw his hands up. "You can't focus on what might have been or on what should have been. You have to focus on what is. And she is a fuckin cheat. You're better off knowing, trust me."

"I guess."

"He's right, Haz. If you didn't know the truth, you might not be ready to let her go."

I wasn't so sure. I had accepted that we were over. But I hadn't accepted that we weren't even going to be friends, that we were never going to talk. I had been able to call Abigail a friend again once the wounds of our break up were healed. But with Fern... I hadn't counted on this betrayal, this absolutely fucking gut-wrenching pain. It made me feel...worthless. As it turned out, with Fern, even our attempts at friendship were full of fucking games. From the very start all the way through to now, Fern was always toying with my emotions. It was like she got some sort of sick pleasure out of it.

And as we sat there, coming up with the guitar and synth tracks for the song, I realised just how bad the relationship really had been. Niall was right the other day when he said it was miserable. I don't want to have friends like that, so I decided that I was well and truly done with Fern. And a wave of relief flooded over me. I mean, I felt good for the first time in weeks. I felt a lightness, a joy and confidence I hadn't felt in a long time. She was the problem, not me. And she wasn't my problem anymore.

Niall and Zayn joined us after a little while, and we rehearsed our full set, including the new song. At the end of the night, as we were leaving, I saw you up ahead, walking with a group of people (Dave and Leah and Brandon, I now know). When you turned to talk to Dave, the light glinted off tears streaked down your cheeks, your eyes puffy and red, but you all were laughing together. Louis nudged me, urging me to go talk to you. I glanced at him, noticing that Liam was so engrossed in a conversation with Zayn that he hadn't yet spotted you. Probably would've tackled you in a creepy hug if he had.

"Not yet. Not tonight. She's been crying," I pointed, as we cut to the left to take the shortest route home. "I don't want to upset her more."

"How could you see that from way back here?" Louis tossed his finished cigarette on the ground and stubbed it out with his toe, never losing step with the rest of us. I merely shrugged in response. "Right, well mate, she'll be there tomorrow, I'm fairly sure, so you'd better make things right with her. Liam will kill you if you don't."

I chuckled as we pushed through the door into our place. "Speaking of killing me, I made an appointment at the health centre on campus. Ya know, for the STD tests..." Louis raised his eyebrows at me. "Will you come with?"

He clapped my shoulder with his open hand. "Yeah, of course mate, when?"

"Tomorrow morning before class."

"Of course, Harry. Just wake me a few minutes before we need to leave." I pulled him into a hug. God knows I needed it. He patted my back, reassuring me just with his touch that I would be all right.

You may be wondering why I wouldn't bring Liam. It's hard to explain. I was scared. And I really wanted my mum or dad or Gem there with me. Louis, though incredibly immature, is the oldest of the lot, and believe it or not, he's actually really good when it comes to big, serious issues. I trust him with my life. Literally. Literal heart of Jesus trust? No? I'm not as good at that as you. ;)

So the next morning I got up quietly so as not to wake Liam and slipped into the room Louis, Niall, and Zayn shared. I shook Lou awake gently, and we were out within five minutes. Louis has always been able to get up and go so fast, just shaking out his hair and pulling on fresh clothes. Or sometimes not so fresh.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Louis asked as we crossed the street towards school, his hands tucked into his denim jacket.

"All right, I guess. A bit nervous."

"Have you talked to Josh?"

I shook my head. "Can't. I know I should. I know I should ask him if it's true and how it happened and why it happened. But I just can't."

"Aw, Harry, course you can. I know you're scared of what you'll hear, but he's the one who should be scared, mate. Not you." We had reached the health centre already, and I stopped for a moment with my hand on the door handle, bracing myself. "Moment of truth," Louis muttered as we stepped inside.

I had a brief visit with a doctor, who glanced at Louis and asked if I was sure I wanted my boyfriend in the room. I smiled, correcting him without judgment or hesitation. Louis shook his head in amusement. We got that a lot. All of us, in some combination. Maybe it was my baby face, or how close we all were, or the fact that we didn't really care if anyone made that mistake. The doctor shrugged and moved on, asking me to recount my sexual history. In detail. Number of partners, number of times, types of protection used, whether I'd ever had any of a variety of symptoms he listed (I haven't). It was humiliating. Then the nurse took blood and urine samples, gave me free condoms, and said they'd have the test results in a couple of days.

Louis sat passively in the corner until it was time to go, and I feared he'd take the piss over my short list of partners as we walked home, but he didn't. He just asked again if I was all right. "Yeah. I suppose. I'm still a bit scared."

"Understandable. You've had your world turned wrong side up," Louis lit a cigarette. He exhaled the next thought, "you should call Josh." I shook my head, but he continued, "we've got half an hour before class. Just ring him. I'll be here with you."

It was one of the hardest calls I've ever made.

My hands shook with anxiety and anger as I tapped his number in my contacts. It rang so many times I thought he wasn't going to answer, and I looked at Lou in frustration. Just as I was about to end the call, he picked up.

"Hi." His voice was subdued. It was all the proof I needed.

"Why?" It was the only word in my mind. Louis rested his hand on my back as I sat down.

Josh hesitated, but I could hear his breath over the line. Finally he said, "I'm sorry."

"Fuck your sorries, Josh," I said softly. I was amazed that the anger I felt wasn't coming out in my tone. Instead, I sounded sad. I was sad. Josh had been a close mate from the time we were in school together. He and Liam and I all moved to London together. We fucking lived together. He was like a brother to me. And it hit me as I collected my thoughts, this devastated feeling that weighed me down wasn't over Fern. It was over Josh. I lost something far greater than I first realised, my thoughts clouded by her betrayal. His was worse. "Just tell me why."

"I...it...it just happened, Harry. I didn't mean for any of--"

I cut him off. "She said you were together for months before I left." He didn't respond. I let the silence hang there for awhile before continuing. Louis sat down beside me, his arm draped over my shoulder. He squeezed gently and mouthed you all right? I nodded and pushed Josh to answer me, "you owe me an explanation, Josh."

"I don't have one. I don't have an explanation that can make this better, Haz. I know I did you wrong, and I'm sorry for it. I never meant to hurt you. But I love her. I couldn't help it. I fucking fell in love with her."

I scoffed, "Good luck with that," and clicked off the call. I looked at Louis. "He loves her."

"More fool him, then." He patted my back, pulling me towards him, hugging me. "You're better off without either of them, Harry. I know it's hard to hear, but--"

I pulled away. "No, I know. He basically said our friendship wasn't important enough for him not to fuck my girlfriend. I mean, what kind of friend does that?"

"One who was never really your friend in the first place."

"Exactly." I nodded. "Thanks for being here, Lou. You were right, I needed to make that call. And I feel oddly better about it."

"Yeah?"

I nodded again. "Yeah, I mean, I know I never did anything to deserve this. To either of them. So this is on them. I'm not going to let it drag me down anymore."

"Good. Come on, let's get to class."

After class, we had rehearsal for a few hours, then we had dinner at Sal's, on the house. Shocker, right? While there, I gratefully collected my pay.

"Harry, son, I just wanted to finish our conversation from the other day," Sal said, handing me an envelope full of cash. "I do not think you should take more shifts." He held his hand up as I started to protest. "You are already working a lot of hours on top of school, and your music. Instead, I will give you a raise."

"Really?"

"It won't be as much as if you worked extra shifts, mind you, but maybe enough to make a difference, yes?"

"Yes, that's great, Sal. Thank you."

We hugged briefly, then he braced me by my shoulders. "I'm very proud of you, Harry. Good luck at your show tonight."

I was touched. He was not a man who showed much sentimentality, but family was everything to him, and it meant a lot to me that he cared for me so, even though we weren't blood. "Thanks, Sal." I hugged him again.

Then we loaded our gear into the delivery van and headed down to The Gypsy Tavern for the Friday night showcase. On the way, I counted the money Sal had just given me. It was two hundred more than what I was owed. Score! In my mind, I set aside that extra cash. If that was going to be my regular pay, maybe I actually could cover my ticket home.

Louis parked the van in the back lot and locked it, leaving our instruments inside. After checking in with the manager, we took a seat at the back of the room, marveling at the crowd of people we recognised from Turning Pages. Jenna and Sam were the highlight for all of us. Liam and I had a genuine crazy fan moment when we saw them. They were pretty much the epitome of perfect parents in our eyes. And there they were just two, maybe three, metres away.

When you walked through the door at the back of the club, I muttered almost to myself, "Jesus, look at her. She's so beautiful." Your hair was pulled back in this loose, easy knot, so casual, so carefree, wisps of hair falling around your face. The lights behind you illuminated your thin top, and I could see the outline of your figure.

"A bit thick for me," Zayn retorted, staring at his phone instead of at you, or the stage, or anything that would show he gave a shit.

"Yeah, she's chubby, but," Niall nodded, "she's so pretty. And it's not like she's fat. I mean, we saw her in those tight running clothes. It's all curves."

Zayn just shrugged and rolled his eyes. "I mean I'd fuck her, but--"

Liam reached past Niall to punch Zayn's shoulder. "Don't fucking talk about her like that, dude."

I was fuming. With my hands clenched at my sides, I growled, "bullshit."

At the same time, Louis challenged Zayn, "What the fuck are you even saying, mate? As if she'd give you the time." Louis pulled a face.

Zayn shrugged again and went back to his phone as if nothing happened. As if he hadn't just insulted the girl of my dreams. I wanted to punch him. Louis caught my eye from across the table. He mouthed he's an asshole to me. I nodded wryly, relaxing a bit and casting my eyes back to you, ignoring the first band entirely. Louis waved his hands not-so-subtly, I guess in an attempt to recapture my attention. He'd managed to get the whole table's attention.

"Nuthin. Ignore me," he laughed awkwardly, waving back at the door just as you slipped away into the darkness.

"I'll be back for our set," Zayn got up and went out the front door, cigarettes in hand.

As soon as he was gone, Liam turned to me, "what the fuck," he muttered.

I shook my head. "Dunno."

Liam began to describe how good you looked that night, how good you looked in general, in detail. He was crushing on you hard. "What the fuck is wrong with Zayn? Is he blind?"

"Don't pay him any mind," Louis waved his hand again. "He's an idiot. Anyone'd kill for a shot with her."

"True," Niall laughed, "but she only wants Harry."

Louis cackled. "Very true."

Liam raised his eyebrows at them. It was the first he'd heard of this theory, and after weeks of gushing over you, he was clearly disappointed. "What do you mean?"

The hurt in his tone was evident. I felt bad, and at the same time, my hopes were soaring. "Yeah, right." I dismissed it, but secretly, I loved the idea.

"Come on, Liam. Don't you think she goes a bit googly-eyed for him?" Niall pushed.

Liam leaned back against Niall's shoulder to look at me. I rolled my eyes. "Does she?" he marveled. I shrugged, uncomfortable. We'd never gone for the same girl. Ever. It wasn't even a rule; it just never happened. I thought maybe he felt he'd some right to go after you. Because you'd been so friendly to him, and because he'd actually been able to carry on a conversation with you. He turned back toward Louis. "Do you really think so?" His voice was shaky. I knew this was not what he wanted to hear.

"I mean, yeah, mate, she seems to fancy him," Louis dropped his volume, his usual loud down to a gentle low. "She's always blushing and smiling and staring at him."

Liam looked back at me, "Sod off. Really?"

I shook my head.

"Ni, let's go check the front board for more dates we can play, yeah?" Louis was never very subtle.

They went to the entrance, and I turned my eyes back to the stage. "She doesn't like me," I murmured into my hand, resting on my chin. "I hurt her feelings, remember?"

"True. But why would she be so upset about what you said unless she liked you?" That was some good logic. "God, Haz, what if she really does? She did ask about you when she brought the sandwiches, and she did go pick you up, and..." He sounded excited. I leaned back against the seat. I didn't know what to say. Here was my best friend, the guy I'd grown up with, the guy I knew had it bad for you, too...and he was excited at the idea you might like me, where I'd only been jealous at the thought of you liking him. "You like her, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Obviously."

"But I mean, you like her, not just this," he waved his hand at your tv family, "but like, the real her?"

I nodded. "I think so. I mean, what I've seen of the real her, yeah."

"You should go for it."

I shook my head. I imagined asking you out. Being rejected. Falling apart. Losing my mind. "I can't. I couldn't. I can't."

"Haz, either you do it, or I will."

I shoved him playfully. "Don't you dare."

He laughed. "You like her more than you're letting on. I know you, Harry. You only go quiet like this when you really like someone."

I gaped at him in surprise, then nodded my head resignedly, running my hands over my face. "Yeah. I do. I really like her. But it's, like, all mixed signals from her. She rolls her eyes and blows me off as much as she ever smiles or blushes. Plus, I fucked it up the other day."

"Well, yeah, I mean you owe her an apology for sure. If she really heard what you said, you've got to say you're sorry."

"I know. I know. I will. But even after I apologise that still doesn't mean she'll, like, want to date me."

"You'll never know until you try, mate. Give it a go." Liam looked so sincere. He was giving me the thumbs up. Obviously I didn't need his approval to ask you out, but it made me feel better knowing he was okay with it.

"How? When? How do I even ask a girl like her out? Where could I even take her? She's used to this," now I was waving at Jenna and Sam, "what can I possibly offer her?"

"Just grow a pair and go for it," Louis proclaimed, coming back to our table.

Niall snickered. "I second that. Just go up to her and ask. Worst can happen, she says no."

I thought that might be the absolute worst that could happen in the whole world.

But I also knew I needed to apologise, per Liam's and Louis' and my mum's orders. So maybe I could start there. Maybe if that went well, I could test the waters and ask you to hang out. Not a date, just "hang."

Liam poked me, nodding his head toward the stage, where you were settling in at the piano. Your tv family all whooped and cheered, and we happily joined in. It was like a dream, watching you up on that stage. But where we were sitting, your back was to us. As you started to play, started to sing, fuck, my heart was leaving my chest and running to you. I wanted to run to you. The melancholy, achingly sorrowful melody and lyrics caused a physical reaction in me, my heart tightening in sadness. I stood, almost mindlessly, and walked to where I would be able to see you better.

You had your eyes pinched shut, and the pain of your words was evident on your face. It was so powerful. You were powerful. You held this power over me, with the combination of those dark piano chords, those dark lyrics, and those dark eyes, open now, and looking at me. Your face flushed red, and you turned away. When you looked back, there was a faint smile, which faded as you cast your eyes down to your hands, all the way through the end of the song. It was lovely. And sad. You were so lovely and so sad, your voice catching on a couple of the lyrics. And I fell even harder for you, this you. The real you.

"Thank you," you said, still looking down at your hands. "That was 'Rebuild This Home.' And next up is 'Begin.'"

I think Begin is my favourite out of all your songs. I love the up tempo pace of it, the anthemic melody, the strong lyrics that force you to believe it will get better. I especially like the line, "Begin even though it still feels like the end." How poignant. How accurate. We so often feel like everything is over, just because one phase or one relationship or one part of our life is over. But, the end of one is the start of another. And even though you leave something behind or move into a new phase, that other, that ending is still with you, will always be with you. As our beloved TS Eliot said, "the end precedes the beginning, and the end and the beginning were always there before the beginning and after the end. And all is always now." Your song made me think of this line from The Four Quartets, from Burnt Norton. Have you read it? I bet you have. You've read everything. It's one of my favourites of all time. If you haven't read it yet, you should.

But maybe Begin is really my favourite of your songs, not because of the connection I made to Eliot, but because you fucking smiled at me again, finally lifting your eyes back to me and stopping my heart from beating. Or maybe it was the way you lost yourself in the song, giving yourself over completely to the music. It was the most beautiful, captivating thing I'd ever seen. Or maybe it was that the lyrics said exactly what I needed to hear. "Just keep moving on, and you'll see that you're strong. Don't ever give in. Begin." It was inspirational, watching you perform this song. Seeing your strength through your tears. I thought about how strong you had to be, to lose Matt, to carry on. As mum said, to do it all with the world watching. To make people laugh when all you wanted to do was cry. I wanted to weep right then and there, to weep for you, and I turned away for a moment to collect myself as the audience stood to applaud.

And then you did just that: You made us laugh even as you cried, "This next one is called 'So Now What?,' which is what my therapist always says." I was in awe of you. Absolute awe. I leaned against the wall and tried to take in every detail as you sang. The way your voice quavered a bit. How your fingers moved so deftly over the piano keys, without hesitation or error. The shine of the lights on your hair, gleaming countless shades of red and gold and brown. How your lips smiled around certain words, and I could tell those were the lines you liked best. The way your eyes moved slowly over the audience, connecting with everyone there. Connecting with me.

When the song was over, you stood. I thought your set might be over, so I walked through the crowd, hoping to catch you as you came off stage. But as I glanced up, I saw you take a spot at the keyboard. I shuffled to the front, finding an empty seat just as you looked up at me, locking eyes. And I couldn't help but feel that odd intensity I had when we saw each other across campus the day we had lunch at the dining hall. It was a moment. A moment that vanished as you introduced your band. "...And I'm Madelyn Turner, lyricist and, obviously, vocals."

I rolled my eyes, laughing at the last bit. Obviously.

But what really caught my attention was that you said you wrote the songs. I figured you had, by this point, as the words seemed so personal, and so much about Matt's death. Still, I was caught up in that thought. You wrote these beautiful, powerful words. There was so much more to you than anyone ever knew, than anyone ever saw. So much more that you never let anyone see. Until now.

I wanted so badly to kiss you in that moment. I wanted to wrap my arms around you and hold you tight against my chest. I wanted to take away all the pain you'd ever felt, erase it, and make you happy. I wanted to make you smile, to make you laugh. You glanced at me as you began to sing, your eyes resting on my lips, caught between my thumb and forefinger. My heart sped up. I watched you, rapt. Enraptured. Enchanted. Enamoured.

And the lyrics, god Maddie, you're such a good writer. I don't know how you could ever think otherwise. There were so many lines that made me gasp, made me lose my breath. "The flood battered me clean, but left me empty... drowning...sinking...lost, the words fell dead." I watched your own words affect you, as they affected me, as they affected all of us in that room. Even the way you sang louder or softer at certain parts, it was unlike anything I'd ever seen. I actually got goosebumps as you sang the line "it was you I held onto," a breathy soft melody, and again when your voice wobbled as you sang "Up to my neck, losing my breath." You looked at your friends from the show, almost imploring them to understand you. And they did. We all did. It was a beautiful thing to watch, to see artwork in living motion, and it made me wish I could write like that. I wished I could make people feel with my words.

It was over all too soon. I could have sat there watching you for hours. I would have given all the money in my pocket to watch you keep performing. As soon as you were off the stage, I got up and squeezed through the crowd to the back of the room by the bar. I could see down that dark hallway, our dark hallway, that you and your band were loading equipment into your car. I swallowed down my anxiety. It was now or never. Well not never, but like, you know what I mean. Just as I gathered all my nerves, you leaned against the far side of the bar. I waited, cringing as the foul barman stared at your tits creepily and flirted with you obnoxiously.

When you shot him down, refusing his free drink, I stepped in. "Let me," I was so glad to have money finally, and I thought it was the perfect way to start a conversation with you. But you shot me down just as quickly, grabbing the tenner and pushing it into my stomach. I fumbled to catch the note fluttering towards the floor as you walked away. Fuck. I just made a total ass of myself. By the time I finally regained my composure, you were across the room, in a deep hug with Jenna. I watched you for a moment then turned to find a dark corner to regroup. Okay. Shot down completely, shaken and shaking. What next?

Niall shuffled around a table to stand next to me in my corner of shame. "What happened?"

"She wasn't interested," I bit my lip.

"Well, what did you say?"

"I tried to buy her drink for her and--"

Niall shook his head laughing. "You idiot. You should have said you were sorry before putting the moves on her." He kept laughing.

"I'm glad my failure is so amusing to you," I snapped, not really angry. Just frustrated. He closed his mouth to contain the laughter, failing miserably. Tears leaked from his eyes he was laughing so hard. It made me chuckle a bit. "Stoppp!" I smacked his shoulder. "I didn't mean it as a come on."

"In what world is buying a girl a drink not a come on, Harry?"

Shit. He was right. "What do I do?"

He shrugged, "Try again. Be sincere. Be yourself."

I decided to wait until the band on stage finished in case it was someone you knew or something. I didn't want to disrupt your night out. You had your back to me, so I could watch you freely. You said something to Louis and Liam and now Niall who was back at the table, and Liam grinned at you, his face red. Louis gave me a smirk and a not very subtle thumbs up. When the act headed offstage, I walked up behind you and rested my hand on your shoulder gently. My heart was shattering my ribcage from beating so hard.

"Can I talk to you?" I managed to get out, barely above a whisper. You looked at my hand, up my torso to my eyes, nodding slightly. I wasn't really sure where we would be able to talk. The bar area was so loud, with so many people, so I walked to the hallway, thinking we might go outside. But it was quiet enough. Though I was nervous as hell, I tried to remember what my mum had said, and what Niall said. Treat her like a regular person, be yourself, be sincere, apologise. I began, "I'm sorry about what I said." Your face registered a mix of surprise and irritation. I took a deep breath and continued, "I know you heard me. Louis told me you started to follow me into the house the other day."

I was so nervous. My hands were shaking, my mouth was dry. I kept thinking about what mum said, that you are a person like anyone else with feelings like anyone else, that I should treat you like anyone else.

"I was pissed about other shit in my life," I said. Fuck. I shouldn't have cursed. I tried to maintain eye contact with you, tipping my head to the side, but you just kept looking at my lips, and I was getting flustered, "and I... I'm just not very good at dealing with it. I don't think you're fake. Not with me, I mean, with us." Fuck. Shut up. I lost my train of thought and turned away, biting my lower lip to stop myself from saying anything else stupid.

But as you spoke, you took a step closer to me in that narrow hallway, our bodies almost touching. "It's okay. I mean, you were right to some degree. My whole life has been fake. I have always pretended to be something I'm not, to be fine when I'm not." And as I finally worked up the nerve to look back at you, I noticed your eyes again moving to my mouth. I knew it might be crazy, but standing this close to you, dizzy from the caramel scent of your shampoo, all I could think about was kissing you. And then you went and said the most honest, vulnerable thing, "The hard part is figuring out who I really am now that I don't want to pretend anymore." God, you're so brave and so bold. To say something so forthright to someone you hardly knew...again, I found myself gazing at you in awe.

"Tonight was a good start," I said, noting the way your eyes stayed glued to my lips. I held my breath and moved in, folding my arm around you and closing what little distance remained between us. Our chests rose and fell in sync, excitement rising to the surface. You were so fucking beautiful, half your face in shadow, half illuminated by the lights in the bar. I wanted to touch your skin, feel the softness of your lips. You hadn't pushed me away, so I lifted my hand and ran my fingers lightly over your cheekbone, barely able to breathe. It almost didn't feel real. I whispered, "Your words took my breath away."

Your eyes flicked up to mine for just a second before resting again on what I was now pretty sure you wanted; I was going to kiss you this time, with no more boundaries to hold me back. I pressed your body against the wall with mine and found your lips with mine and in that moment entwined your life with mine. Your body softened, relaxing against me, and I slid my tongue into your mouth. Fuck, I couldn't believe what was happening. Madelyn Turner, in my arms. Oh fuck yes, you wrapped your arms around my neck and raked your fingers through my hair, and I let out an involuntary moan, so overcome with the idea that you really wanted this. You actually really wanted this. My hands shook so much that I fisted the back of your shirt in my fingers, so you wouldn't notice.

I felt lightheaded, drunk on your kiss, your lips so incredibly intoxicating. "You take my breath away," I panted, pulling away to look into those sad dark eyes.

You pulled me down into another kiss, and fuck it was so good. I leaned my whole body into yours, trapping you against the wall. But you took the lead, swiping your tongue into my mouth. And I wanted to punch the air with glee. You were kissing me.

You broke the kiss and murmured into my ear, your breath skimming my skin and raising goosebumps, "you are my first kiss." Wait. What? Were you really saying that...could you be... No.

"Bullshit," I said harsher than intended. I immediately regretted it, so I tried to explain myself, "I've seen you kiss Jonas on tv hundreds of times."

You laughed. Thank god. "I don't know about hundreds. But I mean," you pulled me closer again, our lips nearly touching as you spoke. "The first real kiss. You're the first boy who ever kissed me because he wanted to, not because some script or director told him to." Fuck. Oh, holy fucking yes. I kissed you again. I couldn't believe no one else had ever made a move. Or maybe they had and you just turned them down, as I feared you would turn me down. Oh god, please let this continue. Forever. Please let this carry on forever.

"We're on next," Louis called from the end of the hall, disrupting our moment. I waved him off.

You smiled up at me, oh, so breathtakingly beautiful, and said something about my band playing. "I'm not sure I want to anymore. You are a tough act to follow." I smiled back at you, finally feeling like I could talk to you. You shoved me playfully, and we shared a flirty exchange before our lips locked together again.

Oh god, it was the sexiest thing I'd ever experienced, the way you kissed me in that hallway. You kissed me with your whole body, if that makes sense, and I tried to do the same, sliding my limbs and torso between and against and around yours. I was so fucking hard in my jeans, it ached and strained against the denim. I had never in all my life been as turned on (no pun intended) as I was in that moment. When I bit your lip gently, and you moaned, I thought I was going to lose it.

"Paging Harry Styles. Harry Styles to the stage please," Liam's annoyed voice broke through the fog of our lust.

"Your last name is Styles?" Your dark eyes gleamed, shining like obsidian. The humour was evident in your grin. I don't even remember what I said but you told me you didn't know my name before. And we laughed again.

"I have to go," I murmured, kissing you again and again, small open-mouthed kisses, our lips tugging at each other. Oh god, I didn't want to go. I didn't want to leave you there. I was terrified this would be it. I just kept kissing you to delay it ending. But Liam was persistently calling for me, so finally I had to go, "on stage with a raging hard-on." Yes, that's what I said. You heard me right. And you knew you heard me right as your eyes traveled down my body, sending sensuous shivers up my spine.

Our whole set was a blur for me. I remember watching you watching me. I know you said I displayed some sort of jealousy over Dave. Or Brandon. I don't even remember now which. I just know I couldn't wait for it to be over so that I could be next to you again, kissing you again. When the last note was strummed, I jumped down and went straight to you.

In your journal, you said something about me marking my turf when I touched you. I wasn't. I don't view you as my "turf" or my property. You are free to talk to whoever you want whenever you want. I just wanted to touch you. I was so glad I was allowed to touch you. Again, you said I was jealous when we went out to the carpark. I don't recall that.

I do remember the way your face lit up when I asked if I could see you the next day. And the way your hair fell across my arm when you hugged me, your arms low around my waist. And how perfectly you fit in my arms. And how easy it would be to fall for you, completely. Madly. Deeply. I held on as long as I could before saying goodbye. I didn't ever want to let you go. I don't ever want to let you go. I will never let you go. Goodbye is not an option for me. I will always fight for you, Maddie. For us. I will always hold on.

~~~~~

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate each one of you, even the ones who are lurking like Maddie. Thank you for reading.

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