Chapter One
Hi, Harry here. I’m making my way back to London from Wales. The concert last night was an emotional roller coaster. From Niall losing his trousers last minute (don’t ask how that even happened) to our microphones malfunctioning to hearing the explosive crowd singing along to each and every song, the boys and I were running on high energy all night. Which makes for an exhausted bus ride home, with five extra grumpy lads with no sleep. At least we had two days off in the city.
My phone beeped, for what seemed like the umpteenth time, and I glanced down at the screen. It read:
Mackenzie Edwards
iMessage (11)
Bloody hell. Eleven messages already. It’s only been two hours since I’ve last replied. How does she have eleven different things to tell me?
Before I could even think about checking, I felt someone’s hands aggressively push me off my seat. From the ground, I scowled up at the culprit.
“Scared ya!” Louis shouted, laughing hysterically. Niall’s distinct laugh could be heard in the background.
“Fuck off guys,” I said, not in the mood.
“Whoa, looks like it’s someone’s time of the month,” he replied, extending a hand to help me up.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Mackenzie?” he asked, knowingly.
All the lads know how much grief she’s been giving me in the past few weeks. We’ve only been dating for two months, and the first month was great! She was this confident, fun, sexy girl. She always left me wanting more, kept me on my toes, and I loved it.
But then it got weird…
She started claiming that I never called her or texted, that she was putting in all the effort. She made up these silly stories that I kept forgetting dinner dates we had apparently set up, or that she always came to watch my concerts but I never went to hers. And the tabloids would suddenly be in a disarray with all her angry emotions exploding everywhere.
And let me tell you a life lesson everybody should know: Mackenzie Edwards is one girl you do not piss off.
Sorry, I’m going to start from the beginning.
Mackenzie is a MEGA SUPERSTAR. Basically, every single song she writes is a hit. I don’t know how she does it. But, sure enough, you can count on her to sit down at the piano or pick up her guitar, and BAM she’s written a chart topper.
Second order of business: she’s dated just about anyone and everyone in the industry. And every one of the relationships has gone bad. And it always seemed to be the guy’s fault. Whether he cheated on her, played her, left her, broke her, was still in love with his ex-girlfriend. Seriously, you name it.
And then a song ALWAYS follows the break up. There’s nothing left unanswered. She puts everything that went wrong in the lyrics.
Needless to say she’s built herself quite the reputation. Everyone thinks she’s crazy, but her songs are golden so she remains a respectable artist.
“She’s just texting me non-stop,” I answered, shrugging.
“When are you going to pull the plug, mate?”
“Soon.”
“You keep saying soon. Just do it.”
I didn’t want to say that I was too scared to do it because that would just sound pathetic. But I was. I was a coward. She would put me in a bad light, like she did with all the others.
