Trace of Innocence | Sweet and Sour (Book 4)

Chapter 17

(No Control | Holding Me Ransom - 17 - Wanna Take It Slow)

July 2015

Louis calls a couple of times during the following week, but I ignore him and don't ring him back. I stalk Jess's Twitter on more than one occasion, but she hasn't posted anything. I look for her on instagram but her profile is private, and I draw the line at asking Gemma to peek at her Facebook page, because I'm not a complete loser. I am, however, miserable.

I don't mean fed up, or down in the dumps, or a bit emotional after watching or reading something sad. I mean my whole body aches with misery. Everywhere I go, I am reminded of Jess, to the point where even the girl who serves me in my local Tesco is wearing a name badge that says 'Jessica.' I'm sick of hearing Ellie Goulding, Ed Sheeran and John Legend on the radio. I'm sick of my heart leaping when I catch sight of a girl with long, wavy, blonde hair, feeling a jolt in the pit of my stomach when someone around me has the same message alert tone as her (not that it's uncommon, as she has an iPhone.) I'm sick of the sharp pain in my chest at the thought of her moving on from me, with this Adam prick, or Barry, or any other guy she could have with a click of her fingers.

I am literally counting down the days until I fly out to LA to put some distance between us, for the sake of my sanity. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I need to throw myself wholeheartedly into the tour to keep my mind occupied. I set myself a deadline to be thinking more clearly by our first US show, San Diego. I can't carry on like this. I need to take myself in hand.

I spend the flight to LA unable to get the words to If I Could Fly out of my head. I pick up my guitar and strum a few chords, making notes here and there and adjusting the lyrics. I send a text to my friend Johan Carlsson, who I have written with before, and ask him if he is free in the next couple of days, and I get a text back almost straight away confirming he is, along with his availability. I arrange to meet with him the following day, and this spurs me on to work more on the song while I'm on the flight.

I'm so engrossed in my writing I don't notice the blonde airhostess until she is standing right by my seat. I look up to see her smiling at me.

"Would you like anything to drink?" she asks sweetly.

"Just a mineral water, please," I reply, and she nods and walks to the back of the plane to fetch it.

"That's a lovely song you're humming," she remarks, when she returns with my drink. "Do I know it?"

"Um, no, it's one of my own," I answer, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"Can I listen?" she asks.

"Um, actually it's not finished yet," I say, awkwardly. "Sorry."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," she apologises quickly, her face turning pink. It reminds me of the way Jess's cheeks flush when she is embarrassed. Dammit.

"I didn't mean to be pushy," she continues, and then she pauses. "I'm Megan, by the way."

She holds her hand out to me. I take it to be polite.

"I'm Harry. Nice to meet you."

"I'll be working these flights for you over the summer," she explains. "I just wanted to introduce myself and let you know to shout me or buzz me if there's anything at all you need."

"OK, thanks," I smile.

"Are you alright? You seem kinda bummed," she says softly.

"I'm fine," I shrug. "Just tired, I suppose. It's been a busy year so far."

"OK well I'll let you get back to your writing," she smiles. "Let me know when you're ready for me to bring your meal out."

"Will do," I nod. "Thanks."

She smiles again, flirtatiously this time - or am I imagining things? - and walks back towards the front of the jet, giving me a perfect view of her backside in her tight skirt.

I sigh, and put my guitar down. I suddenly feel exhausted from pretending everything is fine, and I just want to sleep until it all goes away.

...

My nap on the flight means I am wide awake when I arrive in LA, so I nip into a local supermarket and pick up a few things to see me through this week. The woman on the till isn't called Jessica, thankfully, but the fact that I check to see if she is reminds me that Jess is still firmly at the forefront of my mind.

When I wake up the following day, after not much sleep thanks to my disrupted sleeping pattern, I head over to Johan's studio, excited for If I Could Fly.

"Why is it called If I Could Fly?" is his first question, once I have played it to him all the way through. "Why not For Your Eyes Only?

"I knew you'd ask that," I sigh. "It just is. The idea came to me properly when I was on a plane. It just fits."

"It's very melancholy," he remarks. "It sounds amazing with just your vocal. Do you really want to give this to One Direction? You could save it for your solo stuff, if you want."

I ponder this for a minute. The song is about Jess. Jess loves One Direction. The two are intrinsically linked, and to put this track on a future solo album that isn't even in the pipeline yet would feel wrong somehow; almost like I was snubbing the original foundation of the idea. I mean, it might never make it onto One Direction's next album, but I'd rather it was recorded with the other boys' vocals and never used, than taken out of context and used for my own solo project, somewhere down the line. This barely even makes sense in my own head, so it's no surprise that Johan gives me a confused look when I try to explain it.

"Whatever," he shrugs. "I'm happy for either. Let's play with it, see if we can nail down the lyrics at least. There are some variations I want to try."

We end up completing the whole song along with Ross Golan, another writer, and between us we work out the harmonies and backing vocals enough to record a demo version to play to the others later in the week, to see what they think.

It is late by the time I get home and I fall into bed exhausted, thinking I'm guaranteed a good night's sleep, but I can't seem to stop the lyrics going round and round my head, along with memories of my last conversation with Jess, and all the hurtful jibes and barbed comments thrown with intent to wound.

I'm starting to wish again that I'd told her everything, like I'd originally planned. I wonder what she would do if I called her up right now. Would she answer? Would she hear me out? Would it change anything? Has she blocked my number?

Fucķ - I actually wonder if she's deleted my number, like she deleted me from all her social media.

I still can't believe she did that. I feel like I've been erased from her life without so much as a second thought. I know I probably deserve it, but it still fucking hurts. How would I know if she has? The only way would be to text her ambiguously and see how, or if, she responds.

Why am I even thinking about this? It's the early hours of the morning, I should be asleep, but instead I'm obsessing over my ex-girlfriend who thinks I'm a fame-affected, arrogant, cheating bastard. I doubt she's obsessing over me. She's probably off somewhere with that Adam prick, living the dream.

Is she sleeping with him? Has she slept with anyone else since me? Fuckıng hell, why am I torturing myself like this?

I toss and turn for what feels like hours, the image of Jess and a faceless, nameless guy racing through my mind, and finally fall into a fitful sleep.

---***---

Check me out - updating both books in one day! This has not happened for ages!! I was going to try and start the next part of HMR tonight, but I realised this would be shorter and easier to write, so I gave it a shot and the whole thing materialised! I thought about waiting and posting it tomorrow, but then I decided there was no point in holding the chapter back when it is ready to go, so here it is. Hope it wasn't too depressing! xxx