March
HARRY STYLES
Los Angeles, when it came down to it, was really as good of a place as any to attempt to mend a broken heart. The lack of rain and plethora of blue skies made it easier to get out of bed in the morning, there were so many people around to keep you company that it was almost sickening, the traffic was reason enough to take up all your anger and frustration, and there was always something to do–something going on.
By the time I left for the States, three days after Camden shamelessly dumped me on my birthday, I was under the impression that leaving was absolutely going to be the solution to my problem. And I guess I couldn't blame myself for thinking that when I had never tired running away from a problem before, but it didn't work. The different time zone and scenery didn't actually do shit for me the way I thought they would.
Being at the studio, though, that helped.
Victoria May was, in fact, a hell of a singer and a surprisingly sweet girl. I guess after only a month or so, Hollywood hasn't been able to do the damage to her that it eventually will. Soon enough, she'll be staring at herself in the mirror wondering if her nose is too big, or if the gap between her thighs isn't as wide as the girl's in her early morning pilates class.
I had seen that happen too many times before, and it never got less depressing to watch them change themselves in exchange for acceptance in this industry.
But for now, she was walking into the studio to join us with a matching Nike sweatsuit on, no makeup on her otherwise youthful face, and her long brown hair tossed up in a messy bun. She greeted us all with a shy smile and a small Starbucks to-go cup in her hand. I'll bet it was some kind of hot tea, and I'll bet she googled what to drink for her voice.
"So how's going, guys?" She asked, settling down on the floor despite the open space on the couch next to me.
"Good," Max answered, "feeling alright today?"
"Mhm," she gave us a tight, but sweet smile. "We're working on the piano song today, right?"
Max, Jeff, and Jesse turned to me, signaling for me to answer when I failed to speak up for myself.
"Yeah," I cleared my throat. "I can send you the lyrics now and you can look over them while I'm playing it for you."
Once I sent the message, I pushed myself up from the couch and weaved my way around the instruments to get to the black baby grand piano toward the corner. Habitually, I quickly popped my knuckles and adjusted my position on the bench before laying my fingers out on the white keys.
The song wasn't a happy one, not even a little bit, but sadder songs were always my expertise. It was funny because I wasn't a naturally sad person, and my friends could never believe that I wrote some of the songs that ended up on best selling albums. They would ask me if I was doing okay when they knew that I always had a smile on my face regardless.
Maybe I should have been concerned by the way it was so easy for me to dig into darker parts of my brain, and write about things I didn't understand for myself. I had written one too many heart wrenching break up songs for someone who had never been broken up with before. Until now.
Now, there was no telling what the fuck I was going to come up with after Camden put me through the wringer.
"Wow, this is, um...yeah," Victoria glanced up at me from her phone as I finished playing and turned back to her. "It's sad."
"Needed a breakup song, yeah?" I asked.
Keeping my gaze, she nodded slowly. "Yeah, a-and the piano is really pretty. I mean, it's a pretty song even if it's sad."
I started to smile, but only because I felt bad for her. She was still too scared to say what she really felt. "This is your album, remember? If you don't like something–"
"No, no, no, I like it," she interrupted me for once. Good for her, I thought. "Can I try singing it while you play?"
"Sure," I watched her stand to her feet and came closer to stand by the piano, keeping her phone to read the lyrics with her. "Ready?"
She cleared her throat. "Yeah, whenever you are."
I started playing first, glancing to her as she glanced to the other men in the room in return. Her cheeks were noticeably flushed before she focused on her own phone screen, and I helped her to start singing so she knew where the intro ended.
I don't ever ask you where you've been
And I don't feel the need to know who you're with
I can't even think straight, but I can tell
That you were just with her
And I'll still be a fool, I'm a fool for you
The crazy thing about Victoria, was that she had a musician's intuition without having a single hour's worth of formal training. She's never had voice lessons, which probably would have change if she wanted to learn how to properly belt without damaging her vocal cords, but she already knew how to feel the song and make it her own on the first go around.
Just a little bit of your heart
Just a little bit of your heart
Just a little bit of your heart is all I want
Just a little bit of your heart
Just a little bit of your heart
Just a little bit is all I'm asking for
While I played the second instrumental part, I explained to her what I thought the melody would sound like so it wasn't plainly instrumental on the track. She nodded as she mimicked the way I sang, and I nodded back at her as I started her off on the second verse again.
I don't ever tell you how I really feel
'Cause I can't find the words to say what I mean
And nothing's ever easy
That's what they say
I know I'm not your only
But I'll still be a fool, 'cause I'm a fool for you
She sounded more confident through the second chorus, testing the waters by singing a little louder. I glanced back over my shoulder to see the guys' reactions, all of which were smiles and impressed nods. Her voice equated to a paycheck for all of us, but it was equally as exciting just to hear pure and raw talent like that. God knows I've worked with enough autotune in my time.
"And then the short bridge is just right here–" I said.
I know I'm not your only
But at least I'm one
I heard a little love is better than none
After the bridge lyrics, I had written in to sing and harmonize however she saw fit, so she sort of did that quietly to herself as I'm sure she tried to picture us layering the harmonies on top of her own voice as the chorus repeated itself again.
"I really love it," she concluded. "I think it'll be really good on the album."
"Good," I rested my hands on my thighs. "You sound great, so."
She made a face like she didn't believe me, and I silently hoped that never changed for her either. Obviously the goal was for her to be confident in herself, but humility was easily lost in the music industry, and once it was gone, it was almost impossible to get it back.
We ran through the song a few more times together before I recorded it in the booth, just so she could hear it in her headphones when it was her turn to record. After my part was finished and Max started messing around with electronic violin sounds to go on top of it, I excused myself to head up to the roof and have a cigarette on the terrace.
I almost forgot how much drier the air was in California compared to London, and what it was like to look out past the city to see mountains and hills in place of a flat land. Since being back, and since seeing those purple mountains on that roof, I always thought of Camden's hiking story–her favorite memory ever.
While she was still fresh on my mind, as if she didn't reside there permanently, I pulled my phone out and held my cigarette between my fingers to text Lucy.
Me: Heard from her?
I took a drag while I waited for her to respond, silently hoping she wasn't in the middle of a shoot or a meeting with her agent–anything that would keep her from responding to me faster. But then she started to type.
Luce: I haven't
Luce: She still hasn't even come to me or Molly to tell us about the breakup in general, so we've both reached out to see how she's doing but she hasn't responded to either of us
Luce: How are you doing though?
I felt bad, but now I was just annoyed that I reached out at all if she couldn't give me the information that I wanted.
Me: I'm fine
Me: At the studio though, so I'll talk to you later
Usually Lucy just "loved" my parting texts to her, so naturally, I braced myself when her typing bubble stayed on the screen for a couple minutes too long.
Luce: I'm really sorry, H. I know you guys fought a lot, but we're all just as confused because we knew how much you two cared about each other and how inseparable you were. I can't speak for Cam since she hasn't even told me her side of the story, but I'm sure it has a lot to do with her past and how she's scared to get hurt again. Either way, we love you and we just want you to be happy. Hope you're doing well in LA, please be safe
Luce: And come back soon!
Luce: Love you
I didn't feel much of anything reading any of those words, but I did hate the idea of anyone feeling sorry for me. It made me sick to think of my best friends hanging out without me, talking about me and hoping that I'm doing okay as if I had a terminal illness or something. Breakups happen all the fucking time. So what?
As my cigarette burned out, I flicked it to the ground and stepped out the flickering ashes to head back inside. Victoria seemed to just be getting settled into the booth with the bulky headphones secured around her ears. She gave Jesse a thumbs up when she was ready, and he did the same as he hit play for the music in her ears.
"Man, she's really not bad, is she?" Jeff shook his head in disbelief as we listened to her sing.
"For being only 19 and having no experience, she's incredible, yeah," I agreed.
"Think she's still a little scared though," he mumbled, "or maybe a lot scared. She needs more confidence."
I shrugged, trying to stifle my yawn in case Victoria might see and think I was bored. In reality, I hadn't slept in a while. "She'll get there."
Jesse hit the talk back button on the soundboard. "That was great, let's do it again, and then on the third time I just want you to give it everything."
Victoria nodded inside the glass booth, adjusting her headphones as the music started again. While I listened, I propped my feet up on the industrial coffee table in front of me rather than staring at her. Hopefully that made her less nervous.
"Hey, so I was going to ask you if you wanted to have dinner with Glenne and me at our house tonight?" Jeff asked.
His girlfriend was great, and I loved being at their house when I was in town, but the thought of third wheeling with a happy couple in the home they shared quite literally made me want to run out to the 101 and lay down in the middle of moving traffic.
"I'm good for tonight, but thanks for the offer," I said.
He accepted that answer, but only for a few seconds. "I'm sorry about your situation, dude, but sitting around at home by yourself really isn't going to help."
"It's not about that," I lied, and I did it well. "I was just up all night finishing this song, so I just wanna get something fast on the way home and go to bed. Maybe sometime later this week though, on one of our day's off."
It was safe to say he knew I wasn't being completely honest, seeing as Jeff had known me for as long as I had been working in the industry, but because of that same reason, he didn't push for me to spit out the truth. Not yet, anyway.
"Alright, well just let me know. I'm heading back to New York for a meeting next week, so maybe we can do it before I leave or after I get back."
"Mhm," I exhaled, slouching into the couch.
By the time 5:00 rolled around, we had a pretty decent demo to work with for the following day, when Victoria would try harmonizing over the track. I was the first to leave after wishing everyone a good night, and I couldn't seem to get in my car fast enough. Well, I shouldn't say it was my car. It was the car Jeff let me borrow while I was living there.
As I pulled out of my parking spot and signaled to fall in line with the Los Angeles traffic, I almost laughed for ever thinking London traffic was obnoxious. It took me almost an hour and a half to drive twenty miles, which put me in my neighborhood at 6:40.
My house in the Hollywood Hills was one of the first things I bought when I really started making good money. To be honest, it was a cocky impulse buy and I probably could have been smarter about it by purchasing a town home or flat unit instead. It wasn't as big as my house in London, but it cost the same and was empty more often than not.
Jeff's Mercedes chirped in the driveway as I locked it on my way to the front door, using my key to let myself in. The silence was already killing me as I flipped the lights on and lazily kicked my boots off in the entryway. I forgot to stop for food when I just wanted to get to the house as fast as possible, and now that I was sat on the couch, I wasn't sure I'd find the motivation to get back up.
My routine these days was simple. I woke up, chose between smoking a blunt or a cigarette, had my black coffee, and then went to work. When I'd get home, I'd choose between smoking a blunt or a cigarette, I'd have some water if I remembered, and maybe I'd eat something if it was a decent day.
After all that was said and done, I'd sit and open my phone to check Camden's Instagram. She rarely ever posted when we were together, so I don't know why I was ever expecting to click on her profile and see anything new. Maybe I just wanted to confirm my fear that she moved on already, just so it could stop being a fear.
But, like yesterday and the day before, she was completely inactive. No stories, no posts, and she didn't even interact with the pictures Lucy or Molly had posted in the last couple of weeks. It made me miserable to not know what or how she was doing, and it made me miserable to know that I gave a shit anyway.
The more I thought about it, though, I guess it made sense for me to be the one checking up on her so often. She was the one who dumped me, so obviously I'd want to know what she was doing without me now, and if her life was better for it.
As I exited out of Instagram, I went to our text thread in my messages instead. Ironically enough, the last text she sent me read: I love you too. We were texting each other when she was on her break at work the night before my birthday, and I told her that I'd be there to pick her up when she was off before adding in that I loved her.
For who knows how long, I just stared at the bubble with the four words inside until they started to blur in my vision. Then I would blink just to refocus my eyes on them again. My knee was bouncing anxiously as I tapped my thumbs on the side of my phone, glancing up at the top of the screen to check the time.
It was past two in the morning in London, but the last I knew, she was just barely getting ready to go to bed at around that time. Maybe, I thought, she was writing in her journal and didn't have to do it in secret while I was sleeping because I wasn't there.
Either way, I tapped on her contact to call her, and I couldn't believe that I actually did it. After all the times I had hesitated and changed my mind, I couldn't believe I was hearing the dial tone and watching the seconds tick by as I waited for her to answer. Or not answer.
When I got her automated voicemail, I immediately hung up and tossed my phone to the coffee table, cursing to myself as I ran both hands down my face. As soon as she'd see the notification that I called, I would have officially surrendered the last of what was left of my pride. I wasn't supposed to call her first. That's not how these things worked, as far as I knew.
But then I had a flashback to the night Lucy forced me to go see her and apologize about the stupid fucking threesome suggestion. I was so paranoid that she was with someone else already, and what would be stopping her from doing that now? When I was out of the country and we weren't a couple anymore?
I felt myself getting worked up just picturing Aiden, or any idiot at Redwood that she would have deemed worthy enough to spend the night with her like she did when she met me.
She'd probably give them the same speech about how she doesn't do relationships, and they'll think they're okay with that until they get to know her. By then, it'll be too late and they'll already be on their hands and knees when she decides maybe she doesn't love them the same way they love her anymore. And then she'll leave, and they'll be miserable like me.
My phone started to vibrate on the table, forcing my head to whip forward from where it was resting on the back of the couch. I felt my eyes widen as I saw her name lighting up the screen, and I was suddenly petrified to answer even though I was the one to call her first. My pulse seemed to be picking up with every buzzing sound until I scrambled to reach for the phone before her call could go to voicemail too.
"Hello?"
She cleared her throat first. "Hi." Her voice sounded scratchy and muted, but not the same way it did when she was just tired. She sounded sick.
"Sorry, did I wake you up?"
"Mm-mm," she sniffled. "I was, um...well, I was actually puking when you called. Sorry."
I felt my expression contort into concern. "You're sick? With what?"
"I guess the flu finally caught up to me," she stopped to cough a little, and it sounded like she was holding the phone further away for my sake, "but I'm...I mean, I'm really surprised to hear from you. Is everything okay?"
My eyes scanned the living room in front of me, and I could have laughed at such a ridiculous fucking question coming from her of all people. "Relatively speaking, yeah."
Another congested sniffle. "Right. Really stupid question, I'm sorry."
As I swallowed hard, I wondered if she could hear it the same way I did. "Besides the flu, how've you been?"
"Um," her voice was strained like she was holding in a cough, "I'm okay, I guess. I've just been working, but not for the last two days. Well, I worked on Thursday but they sent me home early when I felt my temperature rising."
I nodded like she could see me. "Do you have medicine at your place?"
"I don't," she tried to laugh, but it was barely audible. "I haven't been sick since I moved here, so I just...I never thought to pick up any medicine."
"Well, Cam," I scoffed. "You're not gonna get better if you don't take any medicine. Can't you have Lucy or Molly bring you some? They'd be happy to do that."
"I'm not really, like...talking to them right now."
Right. I knew that.
"You need medicine, Cam," I insisted. "Even if you just ask them to leave it on your doorstep, they'll bring it to you with no questions asked. Or I'll ask them if you'd rather not."
She went quiet, but I could hear her sheets moving around as she breathed through her mouth. "Why're you calling, H?"
Hearing her just about whisper my nickname like that, it forced me to lower the phone just so I could release the breath I was holding. Besides, I needed a second to think of an answer to her question for myself.
"I just, uh," I swallowed thickly and pinched my stinging eyes closed. "I miss you."
When she sniffled again, I wondered if she was crying or if that was still just the congestion. But then, she softly said, "I miss you too."
That was good enough. That was more than good enough. What I should have done was hang up the phone right then, and go to sleep knowing that she missed me just like I missed her. Nothing less, nothing more. But instead, I tried pushing my luck.
"I was thinking that maybe you could, like...if I bought your plane ticket...do you think you could come and–"
"Harry," she sighed, "I don't think that–"
"You were going to tell me that you wanted to be friends," I reminded her. "When you broke up with me, you said that we could start over as friends."
"And you told me not to, because you said you can't be my friend. Remember?"
I rolled my eyes at her own reminder for me, but that was true. The last thing I wanted to do was be her friend. I just wanted to see her, so if I had to pull that card, then I just had to pull that card.
"There's just still some shit I wanna talk about," I said, "we were both emotional then, and it just happened really fast. Can we just do that? Talk about it in person?"
She kept coughing until her voice was just a hoarse squeak, and I winced at the painful sound. "I don't know, H. Don't you think that's just gonna be salt in the wound? To see each other again so soon?"
"So soon?" I scoffed, "It's been like more than a month now."
She tried to laugh. "A month isn't very long, b–Harry."
I froze as I realized she almost called me "baby", or maybe she was going to go for "babe". I hated that she chose my own name instead. "Will you just think about it when you're feeling better?"
"Fucking shit, hang on," she left the phone somewhere, most likely in her bed, before I heard her blowing her nose nearby. "Sorry, um...I'll think about it and let you know, alright?"
"K," I chewed on my bottom lip, knowing that should be the end of the conversation. "Try to get some sleep, alright? I'm sorry you're sick."
If I wasn't mistaken, her exhale sounded a bit shaky, and I wasn't sure that was from her sickness or not. "Okay. Goodnight, H."
"Night, Cam," I kept the phone to my ear until I heard her hang up, and even then I was reluctant to bring it down to my lap again.
My first order of business was to start a group chat with Molly and Lucy to ask if either of them would be able to put together a care package of medicine and maybe soup for Camden by sometime tomorrow, but made sure to mention that she wasn't sure she wanted to see or talk to them just yet. They didn't answer, but I knew they'd both be jumping at the opportunity once they saw the text in the morning.
And as for me, after hearing Camden's voice in real time and not just in my head or in videos on my phone, I thought that I might just be able to get some sleep tonight.