1Dentity (One Direction Affection: Book 1) [Watty Awards 2012]

31: On My Own

☆ 31: On My Own ★ 

In movies, when the main girl gets dumped by her boyfriend and all you see is a montage of her eating ice cream, crying, and watching sappy romantic movies; I always figured that they were over exaggerating the pain of a break up. 

But they are spot on.

Harry and I weren't even officially together and yet here I am, sitting in Dylan's old beat up car, feeling like crap. Not to mention I've been crying non-stop. I didn't need to look in the mirror to know that I looked bad. My hair is probably in tangles, my make-up smeared, my eyes red and puffy. 

Why can't I stop crying? I've never been one to cry and yet, I am. The only other time I cried this hard was when Remi, my pet dog, died when I was twelve. And just like that time, Dylan was there to comfort me in anyway possible. Which meant, sit quietly until I said the first word.

Which means we've been sitting in dead silence for a couple of hours.

Despite that everything happened this morning, it feels like I just got back from getting my heart ripped out. I couldn't get the vision out of my head. Just thinking about him driving off made my heart sink further and further. I don't know what I should do. Do I even bother showing up to the concert? Do I wait on the tour bus? 

Despite our fall out, as far as I'm concerned, I still have a job to do, and as much as I wish I could just curl up and crawl under a rock, I know that it'll only be a matter of time before I have to face Harry again. And once I see his green eyes and curly hair, I know I'll just be right back where I began. 

With my shirt, I wipe away the trail of tears off my cheek, along with some mascara. I sniff and turn my attention to Dylan, who is looking at me with a sad expression. There was no doubt that he heard everything and that embarrassed me, but I'm just lucky that Dylan knows when to shut up and when it's okay to ask. 

"I'm sorry you had to see that," I apologize, sniffing again.

"It's not like I haven't seen you cry before," He says as he reaches for a tissue, which was kept in a box in the back seat. "Here."

"Thanks." I take it gratefully and blow my nose, crumpling it up in my hand when I'm done. "And I meant, I'm sorry you had to see the fight."

"It's okay," He says, shifting in his seat so he can look at me fully. "I'm really sorry all this happened."

"Yeah, me too," I mumble.

"Uh, Pai?" Dylan asks shyly.

"Huh?"

"Can I ask you something?" 

"What?"

"What did you mean when you told Harry that he was using you?" Dylan asks curiously.

I was taken by surprise. I half expected him to ask about something other than that small comment. Out of our whole fight Dylan caught on to that? Should I even tell him? Can I tell him? Suddenly, I feel a sense of deja vu. I'm not going to keep this secret from Dylan. I kept a secret from Harry and it tore us apart, and I'm not going to lose Dylan today.

"Dylan," I say, trying to keep my breathing even. "If I tell you something, will you promise not to look at me differently?"

"God, of course, Pai," Dylan says reassuringly. "I can never look at you differently."

I nod my head, wiping my eyes one last time. "Well, what if I told you that my relationship with Harry, wasn't exactly real?"

"And what do you mean?"

"What if it was just a publicity stunt put together by his management?" I ask shyly, shifting uncomfortably in the passenger seat.

"So, it was fake?" Dylan questions slowly.

"Yeah," I answer sadly.

Dylan falls silent, taking in what I just said. 

Fake. I hated that word and I hated how that's how I still define my relationship with Harry. If it was up to me, after that night in Dallas, we would've become so much more than that. If only I had found the time to talk to Harry about that, but I never could. 

But if I had, if I got the chance to talk to him about becoming a 'real' couple, would things have ended up differently? Would he have been more understanding? Or would have it just hurt more when he left me?

I have a feeling it's the latter.

"So, let me get this straight," Dylan says, shaking his head in disbelief. "You agreed to be his fake girlfriend for publicity reasons, but why? Why you of all girls?"

I explain to him about how we met at the beach and how we were caught by paparazzi. "And I agreed because I figured this was my one shot at coming back here, even if it was just going to be for a little while."

"So, that's what you meant by using you," Dylan nods his head in understanding. "But, do you want to know what I think?"

"Even if I don't wanna know, you'll still tell me," I say, more to myself then to him. I really wasn't in the mood for a lecture. Especially from Dylan. I just had the worst possible day and the last thing I need is to be scolded at some more.

"I think that whatever was going on between you two wasn't fake," Dylan starts off, surprising me. "I mean, it may have started out fake, but what I saw these past couple of days, it was real. Real feelings. Real Love. And as much as I hate to say it, Harry cares about you. Even I can see it. And you care about him."

That is the first time Dylan has ever talked so in-depth about any relationship. In the past, the most he's ever said about his girlfriend was 'she's hot'. Never anything more. And yet, here he is, giving me advice. Telling me what I've already known, and yet hearing it from him just made it ten times as meaningful. 

If everyone else could see it, does that mean Harry could too?

"So what can I do?" I ask Dylan desperately. "I mean, it's not like I can just go up to him and demand that we start dating for real. I mean, I'm pretty sure he hates me."

"If he cares about you, he doesn't hate you," He reassures me. "But, he's hurt."

Hurt. Why is it that I'd much rather have Harry hate me than to know that I've hurt him in some way? It's because if he hates me, that means that he's probably never cared about me in the first place. But if I hurt him, he had to care. He had to care what I thought and about what I did. 

He had to care about me.

"I know," I mumble, getting angry with myself. "Which just makes everything worse."

"Well, fix it," Dylan says as if it's simple.

"How?" I ask. "It's not easy."

"Of course it isn't easy. Love never is," He says, smiling at me knowingly.

Love. Why did that word scare me? People have been throwing that word out a lot lately, and yet, in this moment, I caught it. Just hearing it made my stomach flutter, even if my heart is fading. Could what I'm feeling for Harry be stronger than just 'like'? Did I underestimate my feelings for him?

I don't know. 

"Dylan, how can I go back there?" I ask nervously. "I can't face him."

"So, what? You're just going to hide out in my car all night?" Dylan challenges. "You're going to miss the last concert."

With a quick glance at the clock, I knew Dylan is right. I'm already late for the concert and I can be sure to get an ear full from Paul when I get there. He's probably worried sick. 

"Well, in all honesty, you have no choice. You have to face him sooner or later," He tells me truthfully.

I chose later.

But once again, Dylan's right. I don't have a choice because for one, I'm bind to that contract. Since I signed it, I have to be present at all concerts. And secondly, they were my ride. As much as I would love to stay here with Dylan, Orlando isn't my home anymore.

And it never was.

"You're right," I say, nodding my head. "Might as well get this over with."




~*~



"What do you mean you're not coming with me?" I ask, leaning into Old Gerty from the passenger window. 

The warm Orlando air is hitting against my exposed legs as I stand outside the car, arguing with Dylan. We were parked in the back of the venue, I can hear the loud music coming from the building. By the sounds of it, Everything About You was the song the boys were currently on.

"I mean, that I'm not coming in," He says sternly, clutching his hands on the steering wheel. 

"But weren't you the one who told me that I should face Harry?" I ask, putting my arms over my chest.

"Yeah, you should. Not me," he corrects.

I sigh, not sure if I should waste anymore time begging him to come in with me. "I can't do this alone."

"Paige, you can," he reassures me.

Yes, I can, but it's a matter of if I want to. And I don't. I'd much rather have Dylan by my side.

"I just don't see why you can't come in with me," I mutter.

"Because once you get in there, the concert will almost be over and then you guys are leaving," He explains. "I think you're forgetting the fact that I live here."

If it was up to me, Dylan wouldn't live here. I'd make him come with me. But, that'd just make everything ten times worse.

"So, this is it then?" I ask sadly.

Dylan suddenly gets out of the car and makes his way to me. And for the last time for god knows how long, Dylan pulled me in for a hug. "Good luck, Pai. Tell me how it goes, okay?"

I nod. "I'll miss you so much."

I think it's the fact that I just got done crying that made my eyes sting as I said that. It's like once you start crying, once you release the tears, you can't stop them from coming. And every emotion, sets off a new set of tears. 

"Hey, come on, we'll keep in touch," Dylan says as he reaches into the car and pulls out the Kleenex box before handing it to me. "You should take these."

Without a word, I grab a handful of tissues, using one to dry off any stray tears. "Sorry, it's just I'm going to miss you so much."

I don't want to leave Dylan because at this moment, he is probably the only one that is on my side. Harry probably told the rest of the boys what he heard and they are probably just as hurt as Harry is.

"I'll miss you, too," He says, then with a chuckle he adds. "Now, go get your British boyfriend back."

"Yeah, I don't think it'll be easy, but thanks," I say as I back away, heading to the venue, my stomach twisting.

Before I got out of earshot, I hear Dylan yell, "Oh, and tell Harry that I approve!"

I wave back at him. A smile smile forms on my lips when I realize that Dylan referred to Harry by his name, rather than some other for of identification.

And Dylan approves.

However, the smile quickly fades when I realize that it might not even matter after tonight. Harry might not need approval because there may not be a relationship to approve of. And that kills me inside. I don't even want to begin thinking of how my life would be without Harry. I know I've spent eighteen years without Harry, but after spending a month with him and the One Direction boys, they became my life. 

How can I loose them? They became so important to me and if I'm not mistaken, I hope I became important to them. 

As I round the corner, the back stage door comes into view. With my peripheral vision, I can make out the outline of the tour bus. I set my gaze on the door as my stomach tightens with nerves. I want to just run back to the parking lot. Maybe Dylan hasn't left yet. Maybe I can just leave and hopefully no one will notice.

But I know that's just a lie, because they will notice. If anything I bet they are expecting me.

Finally, after much debate, I knock on the backstage door. As I wait, my heart pounds faster and I take a deep breath trying hard to calm my nerves. But it's no use. There is no taming what's going on in my stomach or my head. 

The door swings open, revealing a small man with a clip board and walkie talkie. "Yes?"

"Uh, I'm Paige Carter," I say slowly, unsure as to how I can get back in. 

As I say my name, the man's eyes widen. "I'm sorry I can't let you in."

My stomach drops. "What do you mean you can't let me in?"

The man shrugs, "They just told me that I'm not allowed to let you in."

"And who told you that?" I ask harshly.

"The head of security."

Paul? Why would Paul not want me inside? My stomach falls deeper as I think of all the possibilities. 

"Can you bring Paul out here?" I ask. "I need to speak with him."

"I don-"

"Just do it!" I yell, impatiently. 

The man quickly nods and shuts the door before heading back. As I wait, I just can't wrap my head around all this. Why would Paul tell them to not let me in? He's never done that before, except for the crazy fans. 

A couple of minutes later, the door reopens, revealing Paul in his usual concert attire, black shirt, black pants. I try reading his facial expression but I can't. His face his hard and expressionless. Much like a statues.

"Paul," I say breathlessly as I stare at him. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, Paige, but I got orders to not let you in," Paul answers, a bit of regret hinted on his voice.

Paige. What happened to Miss. Paige? Were we no longer friends?

"Orders? From who?" I ask, hurt. "Harry?"

"No," He shakes his head. "From Vincent."

Vincent.

Why does everything always go back to him? I hated it when he controlled the boys but now he's standing in the way of what I want. And what I want is another chance to apologize to Harry and the boys. That's all I want. But I can't because Vincent is standing in the way.

"But why?" I ask, confused.

"The contract is being terminated," Paul tells me. "He wants you on the next flight out to London to finish the process."

"But, why? Did I do something wrong?" I ask, taking a small step back.

"It was upon Harry's request," Paul says sadly. 

Harry wanted this? Harry doesn't want to see me anymore. Did I hurt him so badly that he doesn't want anything to do with me? I can feel the tears coming again but I do everything in my power to stop them. I clutch the tissue in my hand, hoping that I won't have to use them soon.

"What?" I manage to choke out. 

Paul nods sadly. "I'm sorry, Paige. You can go into the bus and collect your things. There will be a car out waiting to take you to the airport when you're ready."

This can't be happening. No. On top of everything that happened to me today, I'm getting pushed out. I'm being shut down. I feel my body going numb at the thought of never seeing Harry or the boys ever again. I'll never be able to eat The Destroyer that Niall had been begging me to try. I'll never get to let Zayn do my hair. I'll never get to finally get Louis back for all the pranks he pulled. I'll never get to have another Twitcam dance-off with Liam.

But worse of all, I'll never be able to tell Harry how I really felt. I'll never be able to hold him ever again. I won't see his green eyes, or curly hair, or goofy smile ever again in real life.

No. I have to see them.

"Paul, I'm not going until I see them," I say, suddenly regaining my strength through my newfound anger. 

"Paige, please don't make this harder," He begs.

"You're making it harder. Just let me through," I beg. "Let me see them one last time."

"I can't let you do that."

"Please, I have to hear this from them," I plead, taking a step toward the door. "I have to hear them say it. I have to hear Harry say that he doesn't want me anymore."

Paul looks back at me. I can see the hurt in his eyes as he continues to stare at me. I can tell he's debating. Then, once again, his face hardens. "Paige, just go collect your things."

"No," I say sternly as I eye the small gap between Paul and the entrance. Yes, it was a long shot, but if I didn't try, I was going to hate myself.

"Paige, I don't wan- Hey!"

Before Paul could finish, I dart forward, trying hard to squeeze past him in the middle of his sentence. But with one swift motion, he caught hold of my arm, keeping me from taking another step forward. As I continue to try and push through, Paul grabs me by the waist, holding me. I kick forward, trying hard to loosen his tight grip, but it's no use.

"Let me go!" I shout as I try to go forward.

Without a word, Paul easily picks me up and throws me over his shoulder as if I weigh nothing. "I'm sorry, Paige, but you forced me to do this."

"Where are you taking me?" I demand as I continually hitting my fists against his back. "Put me down now!"

Paul doesn't answer nor does he flinch when I hit his back repeatedly. Was this man made of stone or what? Finally, after we made our way across the dirt lot, he put me down. On my feet, I look over my shoulder and see the entrance to the tour bus. He really means it. I'm not going to see them. My last memory of the boys was last night, and although it was a good memory, I'll always have to live with the fact that my last conversation with Harry ended the way it did.

Do I not deserve a second chance?

"Paul, don't do this," I beg, looking between him and the bus. 

"I'm really sorry, but you have to pack," He tells me.

He's sorry? If he was sorry he would let me go. He would look the other way while I went and found the boys. I could try to talk to them. I could do something; anything. It'll be better than just giving up. Again, I peer over Paul's shoulder, calculating how fast and quick I'd have to be in order to make it to the back door.

"And don't think about running," Paul warns.

I look back at him in disbelief. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Paul eyes hints a bit of sadness for a split second, and then harden over. "I have orders."

"Well, screw your orders," I say, surprising myself at how harsh I was being.

"Paige, you're being difficult."

"Of course I'm being difficult! I just lost everything! How do you expect me to be?" I shout, throwing my arms in the air. "You know, Paul a couple of weeks ago you told me that you wanted me and Harry to be happy. Why can't you still feel that way?"

"Things were different then."

"How? How were they different?"

"Because," he says slowly, looking at me intensely. "You didn't hurt Harry then."

I have to take a step back, pressing my back against the cold metal of the tour bus. Paul was right. I did hurt Harry. I said something that I didn't really mean and yet, here I am paying for it. Harry caught me at the worst possible time and now I'm paying for it. Maybe I deserve this. Maybe I don't deserve Harry, who was willing to open up to me. He told me the truth about how he misses his mom and I couldn't tell him about my family? Why was I so stupid?

"I didn't mean any of that," I say stubbornly. "You have to know that Paul. You have to."

"There is nothing I can do," Paul looks down at me, suddenly his eyes grew sorrowful. "I'm sorry, Miss. Paige, I didn-"

"Don't call me that," I say as I turn slightly, fumbling for the door handle. "Only friends can call me that."

Then, without hearing his answer, I open the door to the tour bus and slam it in his face.

I'm truly on my own.

______________________________________

A/N:

Uh, oh... Yeah, things aren't looking so good.... :( I always liked Paul and Paige's relationship for some reason... haha even if it wasn't too in-depth. He was always there :)

But on the bright side, I reached over 1,000 votes? And we surpassed the 30 chapter mark! AAANNNDD I just need one more fan to get 100! I'm having a good day... even if Paige isn't :/

I wasn't planning on posting today, but i'm almost done with chapter 34... so i figured "Why not?" and i'm cool like that sooooooooo here it is! The next chapter! :D

VOTE BECAUSE YOU"RE COOOOOL! :D 

Okay, i'm off to go finish chapter 34! :D BYEEE!