I groan into my pillow when I hear the annoying sound of my phone ringing, my hand blindly grabbing for it on the bedside table. I huff and reluctantly lift my head up when I feel nothing, squinting at the clock. 4 in the morning? “Who the hell…” I mutter hoarsely, still looking for the ringing phone. I lean over the edge of my hotel bed and grab it off the floor, just as it stops ringing. I rub my eyes and tap the screen, pausing when I see all the notifications.

7 messages from my manager, 3 from my mum, 6 from my sister, various amounts from friends….18 missed calls from you? My eyes widen and I sit up instantly, wincing at the shooting pain in my head but ignoring it for now.

We’ve been dating for about 3 years now, and it’s safe to say everyone loves you. My parents, my sister, my fans. I’m in Japan right now for a few days and you’re back at our shared place in LA, which means it’s barely noon for you. Why would you be calling me so many times- oh no.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck,” I curse, practically throwing myself out of the sheets as my memory comes back to me. I’d gotten incredibly drunk last night with some friends and may have mistakenly kissed this girl…Emily Ratajkowski. But no cameras could’ve gotten that…right?

My heart jumps when my phone starts ringing again in my hand, swallowing when I see your contact photo. I inhale before answering, taking a hand through my hair. “Hey sweetheart,” I say carefully.