The Heartbreak Factor - Part Three

Chapter Eighty-Five.

“What’s going on now?” George asked me with a sigh as I sat on the bed, flicking through a magazine, nearly ripping the pages as I took my anger out on it.

“Nothing,” I growled, throwing the magazine onto the bed and getting up from the bed to make my way into the bathroom to get ready for another day in the studio, working on some tracks for the album.

“Well there obviously is if you’re having a huge hissy fit like this. I’d understand if it was just a short-term thing but you’ve been like this for three days now and hardly spoke a word to anyone.”

I turned around to look at George. “You really want to know what the matter is?” I asked.

“That’s usually why people ask the question of ‘what’s the matter’, Sammy,” George sarcastically said.

“I’ve given up my entire career for love and even now I’m still sacrificing my career for you,” I shouted as I got even more angered at his attitude.

“Whoa, before you start blaming me, I didn’t make you give it up. You chose to,” he argued back as I walked into the bathroom.

“I know,” I said as I walked back into the bedroom, carrying my make-up bag. “But do you know why I chose to?”

“Why?”

“Because I loved you. I loved you like I had never loved anyone or anything else before in my entire life. You were the reason I smiled, George,” I said as a tear slowly rolled from my eye and down my cheek. “I put you before everything else and now I’m stuck.”

“Well maybe people are right.”

“What?” I asked in confusion.

“Maybe we were too young for love.”

“So you don’t love me?” I snapped. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“I hate that about you, Sammy,” George sighed as he got up from the bed and made his way over to the bedroom door.

“What?”

“This,” he said. “You twist everything I say to make it sound worse than it actually is.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“You still didn’t answer my question though. Don’t you love me anymore?” I asked, anxiously waiting for his response.

“I don’t have to answer it.”

“You do.”

“I don’t,” he said, opening the bedroom door as he walked into the hallway. “And even if I did, I can’t.”

I chased after him and grabbed hold of his arm as I caught up with him in the hallway. Spinning him around, I looked him directly in the eyes. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t know anymore.”

As he said this, my heart dropped. I felt a gut-wrenching  feeling in my stomach and physically felt sick.

“How can you not know?”

“It’s like I don’t know you anymore, Sammy – I thought I used to know you but have I actually ever known the real you?” he asked. “No matter what I do or what I say, there always seems to be a part of you that you will never let me in. I thought that when two people are in love, they never keep anything from each other. I love you, Sammy, but how can I carry on loving you if you won’t fully open up to me?”

I stood looking at him, not knowing what to say or do. “I can’t do this,” I said before rushing past him.

Grabbing my car keys off this side of the table next to the front door, I rushed out of it and down the steps.

*

Knocking on the front door, I wiped the tears from beneath my eyes and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm me down. After a few moments, the door opened to reveal Justin stood looking at me. His smile soon turned into a look of worry once he realised I was upset. “Sammy,” he said with concern in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

“You’ve been crying though?”

“It’s nothing,” I said. “I just wanted to come and tell you that I’d love to support you on your European tour.”

“That’s great,” he smiled. “But are you sure you’re okay? It was only the other day you said no.”

“I’m fine,” I lied again. “Hay fever is just playing up again.”

I could tell with the look on his face that Justin didn’t believe me. I suppose my hay fever excuse was ridiculous to believe since we were in the middle of London where the nearest pollen field was probably an hour away.

As I turned around to head back towards the elevator shaft, Justin grabbed hold of my arm and pulled me into him for a hug. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he whispered as he hugged me tighter. “But I’m always here if you ever want to talk about it. I promise.”