The bus was quiet, save for the rumbling under my ass as we head to our next tour stop. Everyone else had well gone to bed, I couldn't sleep. I tried taking a few melatonins about an hour and a half ago but they haven't worked.

I'm staring out the window at the passing cars whilst playing rain drop race with the droplets dripping on the outside of the window—anything to pass time.

My phone pings—Snapchat.

Jason sent you a Snap

The notification on my lock screen read. My brows furrow. Jason was my best friend from high school, when we were two kids giggling at the back of the class and launching spit wads for the sake of it. After I was placed in One Direction, we just, well... stopped talking. No reason, no bad blood, life just got busy.

So for him to be snapchatting me—at two o'clock in the morning no less, was slightly odd.

Either way I decided to open it. The first thing I'm met with is a photo of him with his nose buried in my ex girlfriend, Felicity Skinner's hair, with a snarky caption, "Miss your ex?"

The whole situation was random—we hadn't spoken since I dropped out of high school to pursue the band, which I'm much happier doing anyway. Sure we'd liked each others Instagram posts here and there, but besides that it was radio silence. So this behaviour? A little farfetched.

I didn't miss my ex. She was great—definitely. Again, no tension with either of them, but I've moved on, was he doing it to make me jealous? Quite possibly, he was known for trying to one up me all the time in school.

His immaturity flared something in me and I find myself on your instagram page. You're Jason's sister and you used to be strictly off-limits, I have no idea if the rule still applies now since we're older and mature but back then if I even so much as looked at you the wrong way, I'd had Jason's hand gripping the collar of my shirt in threat.

I find your contact in my phone—I had it saved from the time Jason's phone died and he had to use mine, the only text exchange was four years ago.

That was going to change.

You still in London?

I knew that was where you went for university after you finished high school, and thankfully, everything was working out in my favour. London was exactly where we were headed. We had just performed in Liverpool tonight and now had the next five shows at the O2 Arena.

I look out the window again, catching the sign about Central London only being 34 miles away. While I wait for your response—which I doubt I'll receive at two o'clock on a school night, I open your Instagram again. Your recent post made you look stunning, catching the light in all the right places. Older, maturer, but still stunning. I had always been a sucker for you, but 'course I could never go through with anything.

I was already planning it out in my head. Use my charming nature, get a snap of us together sent back to your brother in spite—but most importantly take you on a date, like I wanted to do all those years back but never had the chance.