Tonight

Chapter 10

Joe was hyper aware of his phone, heavy in his trousers pocket as he and Dianne strolled back across the festival field toward the artist area. Their fingers were lightly intertwined, and Dianne was telling another silly childhood story - this time, it was a dramatic retelling of getting a rock stuck up her nose - and every so often she would look at him, the corner of her eyes crinkling when she realized he was still paying attention, and then she'd giggle that mesmerizing giggle and continue the story with even more random detail and he'd find himself giggling along.

It really was odd, he thought to himself, how he'd gone from hating this girl to now seriously considering telling his best friend to hide the handcuff key he had just found in order to spend more time with her.

The phone was still heavy in his pocket, the words he had just exchanged with Caspar feeling like a pound of bricks.

Caspar: I have the key, bro!

Joe: How?!

Caspar: Ran into that little old guy. Meet me by the artist tents and I can free you of the crazy redhead.

The words "I have the key" - that should have brought Joe pure joy and elation, had instead caused a sinking feeling in his chest. His stomach was flipping again, but not in the pleasurable way it had when he'd just kissed Dianne's cheek. No - it now felt as though his stomach might drop out of his body completely, churning with worry and anxiety over the possibility that he was less than ten minutes away from potentially never seeing Dianne again.

Clearing his throat and bringing himself back to reality, he glanced over at Dianne who was now quiet, her eyebrows furrowed together as she looked off into the distance.

"What deep thoughts are you mulling over then, Buswell?" he asked with a smile.

She looked at him in surprise, almost as thought she hadn't expected him to take note of her serious demeanor. She smiled softly before replying, "Oh, nothing much. Just trying to figure out how I'm going find a way to not mess up a famous singer's main stage debut at Glasto."

"Famous singer eh? Is he really all that famous?" Joe teased, scratching his chin.

"I think so," Dianne replied quietly, her face still serious. "Do you not?"

Joe shrugged, wondering how their conversations kept turning back to him and his insecurities. Dianne seemed to have a knack for it.

"I don't see myself as famous," he added when Dianne remained quiet, waiting for him to explain. "I don't see myself as anyone but Joe Sugg from a cottage in Wiltshire."

"That's an admirable attempt at being humble," Dianne chuckled lightly shaking her head. "But not true."

"What do you mean? I'm Joe Sugg and I'm from a cottage in Wilshire," Joe retorted.

"That might be who you are to your family and your friends," Dianne smirked. "But to the rest of the world, you're Joe Sugg from Sugg and Lee. Up and coming Indie artist. Quite famous. And dare I say...untouchable. Do you really not see that?"

Joe waved his hand through the air dismissively, the tone in his voice sharper than he intended, "So that's how you see me, then?"

Dianne studied him for a moment, her eyes searching his, and he swore he felt her grasp his hand a bit tighter before she slowly shook her head no.

"No?" Joe questioned, his voice soft.

"No," Dianne repeated, her voice soft but firm. "I'm not your family, and I know I probably don't qualify as your friend either...but after being handcuffed to you for 12 hours, consider me the one unique individual who sees you as more than Joe from Sugg and Lee."