Chapter Two.

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Boot camp came around quicker than I thought it would and all I could wonder about was if I was  ever going to see George again. After my audition was over, we drove straight back home so I didn't even have time to see whether he had got through to boot camp. I should have been concentrating on getting my vocals to the best they possibly could be to win over the judges again, but instead, all I could think about was the boy that hit me with his guitar and whether he’d be there.

“Remember what your mum said,” Michael said to me as we got out of the car, playing his father figure role.

“I know,” I sighed, rolling my eyes as I walked around to the boot of the car.

“I know you think she’s over-protective of you but she has good reasons to be.”

“I know,” I snapped slightly, hoping he’d let the matter drop.

“Just text her when you can otherwise I’ll have to deal with all her worrying. You know what she’s like and..”

I cut him off. “Michael, I know.”

“Just make sure you do it then,” he said. “Right, are you sure you’ve got everything?”

Nodding to Michael, I got my suitcase out of the boot of his car. “Everything but the kitchen sink,” I laughed to myself as I heaved my overloaded suitcase from the boot and plonked it down on the kerbside next to where the car was parked.

“Well good luck and we’ll see you in a few days hopefully,” Michael smiled, giving me a quick hug.

Once I’d said bye to Michael and he’d wished me good luck for the umpteenth time that hour, I went to the hotel we’d been told to go to in the letter I’d been given after my audition by the production team.  The letter was a little worse for wear now in comparison to the crisp white sheet it used to be just five weeks ago. Mum had decided to pin it to the notice board in the kitchen back home - she claimed it was so I didn’t lose it but every time we had visitors over, it always managed to pop up into the conversation. She had even told the guy who did the quarterly meter readings that I was going to bootcamp for X Factor and made him swear on his two-year old daughter and one-month old son’s lives that he’d vote for me if I got through to the live shows. I just laughed it off but it did annoy me how people expected me to get through to the live shows - it made them have high hopes for me and the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint everybody, especially my close friends and family.

As soon as I’d checked into the bootcamp hotel and put my stuff in the room I had been assigned, I headed back out into the streets of Liverpool and went straight to the arena’s meeting place – which we’d also been told to go to in the letter. Luckily I was one of the first people to turn up so I didn’t have to arrive with hundreds of other hopefuls staring at me and judging me. After a while, more and more people turned up warily, not knowing what to do. I sat on the kerb and began to text my mum letting her know Michael was on his way back - and to kill some time while I waited for further instructions from the production team. As I sent it, I felt as if there was somebody watching me. Looking up, I saw George towering over me with a huge grin on his face. 

"Don't fear, I haven't brought my guitar this time," he winked, sitting down on the kerb next to me. 

"George!" I said, finding myself grinning like a mentalist at him. 

"Hey," he smiled. “Didn’t think you’d remember me.”

"You got through then?" I asked, still grinning from ear to ear. Although I ignored his comment about not remembering me, I laughed. I didn’t want to say I couldn’t stop thinking about him for the past weeks. I’d only met him properly for less than five minutes in total; it could easily come across as creepy and I didn’t want to be perceived as a creep at all, by anyone, especially George.

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