Time.

It's something I never really have much of for only me. But I've been learning to get real selfish with what little time I do manage to scrape together for myself. If I'm ever able to catch a moment alone, I use that moment to catch up with Clara. Whether it's via a text, phone call or Skype; I save all of my selfish moments for her.

This past week has been a promotional circus. Between meetings with my marketing team, my record company, talks about possible co-writes, doing the LA chat shows, magazine and radio interviews, and keeping an active promo presence on my social media—life is at full throttle.

Now, I've been politely told to do the whole thing again, but in New York. And unusually, I'm being willingly compliant. At first I refused, but my record company have been pretty cool about Maci, what with arranging for her to go into the new rehab and everything.

So for once, I'm not challenging what I'm told to do. Just as they and Will had explained to me, an overly ambitious reporter has indeed been poking his nose around where it shouldn't be. With the worldwide tour being such a huge success, the last thing anyone wants right now is for my tour to be overshadowed by my sister's long term addiction. So that's why I'm playing ball with my record company, they were right about needing me to distance myself from Maci and promptly packing her off to a rehab.

So here I am, now very much in New York. Existing on a lack of sleep, coffee and the longing to see Clara again.

Just one more week!

Just one more crazily busy week!

That's what I keep telling myself. I've already got through one, I just need to make damn sure I get through the next. Because then, then I'll be with Clara. Me and my girl, can then have some much-needed alone time. And I need that alone time. I need to recharge my batteries. I need to spend time with the one person who has snuck into my heart in the most awesome of ways and has become the entire workings of it. Yeah, I'm tired, but as exhausted as I am, I know that time with Clara will fully replenish me. So this scheduled break honestly can't come soon enough.

All I want is to be with my girl.

For one reason or another, people are pissed with me.

Maci is pissed, because she's been put into yet another rehab.

Mom is pissed, because I wouldn't go and see her and my sister before said sister was put into said rehab, and Don is pissed because mom is pissed at me.

But you know what?

I don't care.

I'm simply doing what I have to do.

I'm just being Rhys Ryan, the chart-topping guy who is the only one who can afford to keep his junkie sister from killing herself.

Who I am, pays for all of her expensive recovery. And like I said, I'm learning to get real selfish with my time. I've had to.

As pissed as my mom actually is, I think deep down she understands. Deep down, she knows my reasons for needing to stay away from Maci. Both from a professional and a personal standpoint, she understands. She has seen the resentment between myself and Maci, painfully grow over the years. If my sister hadn't chosen drugs over everything else, I believe she would have been a pretty amazing and special person.

But she didn't. She chose to walk another path, so she'll never be that amazing and special person. I think that chance has gone.

Mom thinks it's not too late for Maci. I already know that it is.

My funny, talented and protective big sister has been degraded by drugs. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. The degradation has been too awful to watch. The more I have been losing Maci, the more I've had to pull away. It's all I can do. I refuse to stand by and watch more of that degradation happen right in front of my brotherly eyes.

I just can't do it.

I won't do it.

It's been many months since I last saw my sister. It's a day that still can't be cleansed from my mind. I just remember looking at this empty shell of a person. A person who I used to laugh and sing for hours and hours with. The person who used to tell me mythical stories and who used to gel my funkily cut hair. Instead of that fun and caring person, stood someone so bitter and undignified. Her once loving and sisterly bright eyes, had become orbs that were so dull and indignant. I was no longer the little brother who she once sweetly adored. I had become the resented reminder of the sister that she would never be again.

The acrimonious gulf between us had become too wide.

I was disappointed in her.

Maci was hostile towards me.

The little boy who she lovingly used to look out for, was now a man who was ordering her to stay in yet another rehab.

Our lives had changed.

Us being brother and sister, had changed.

Everything had changed, and neither one of us were accepting of those changes.

Since that day, I've not been able to be in the same room as Maci.

I don't want to look into those dull and indignant eyes.

I don't want to be around her attitude and discontent.

My sister has gone.

I've tried to understand, to still love her...but I can't.

I've tried too many times. Only to be disappointed even more times.

On my blackest of brotherly days, I have wished that Maci no longer existed. On my blackest of days, I've just wanted her shit to no longer be in my life. Fame itself can be hard. It's even harder when you're trying to keep your junkie sister from out of the spotlight because you know it would break your mom's heart.

Every lie Maci has ever told.

Every disappointment she has ever caused.

Have just pulled me farther and farther away from her.

I remember them all. Each and every one of them, I remember.

Even when I'm just trying to live my life, forget all the hurt that my sister has always caused, those things will sometimes surface from the deepest well of my memories.

But Clara somehow keeps those memories at bay. Whenever I am with her, the resentment I feel for my sister somehow fades. The constant trying to save my mom from a broken heart feels less heavy, and being Rhys Ryan somehow feels easier.

Clara, just makes it all better.

So Maci can stay pissed.

So can my mom and Don.

For once, I'm putting me first.

I'm in a good place. A real good place. Having Clara in my life, although distantly so for the time being, is making my creativity effortlessly pour from out of me. She is enriching my song writing mind. Igniting the songs inside my soul.

Just one more week! Are what my thoughts so gently remind me of once again. Yeah, it's going to be tough. It's going to be crazy. But tough and crazy won't stop me from thinking about my girl. I have already been missing her. That missing of her will only get stronger over the next coming week. We are both where we happen to be, continually missing each other it seems. And no amount of calls and texts seem to ever satisfy our missing for one another. Clara is also struggling I think. When I spoke to her last night, she sounded a little 'off'. Behind her very British humour and her soft and infectious laugh, I could hear how much she's been missing me. With so many miles between us, I just wanted to make them all disappear. Each and every one of them, I just wanted them gone.

But not even I can do that, but what I can do is just let my girl know that I'm thinking about her now. That I'm thinking about her in the Rhys Ryan way. So I compose an heartfelt text.

I can't stop thinking about you.

You have become all of the melodies and all of the lyrics inside my head.

Rhys xxxxxxxx

Smiling down at the lit up screen, the text is eagerly sent. What I have written, is nothing but the truth. Smittenly, nothing but the whole truth.

Because, I am smitten.

Stupidly smitten.

Crazily smitten.

I never thought I'd feel this way about someone, but I am feeling this way about someone. And I like it. I never thought I would, but I really do. Slipping my cell phone back into my denim pocket, I start focusing on the afternoon ahead—back to my hotel room to shower and change, read through some interview questions, one small photo shoot, then onto NBC to do The Tonight Show before grabbing some dinner with the guys at a great Jamaican restaurant that I found the last time I was here in New York—yet another totally jammed day.

Just as myself and Slam are strolling past reception after having a chilled coffee together, I hear a familiar voice.

"Hey, fancy seeing you here?"

My eyes turn towards the familiar voice, soon fixing on an equally familiar face. "Hey." My greeting is certainly not as warm as hers. "What are you doing here?" I ask in a disinterested way, allowing my eyes to slide from hers to Slam's.

Sauntering towards me, her pink glossed lips lift into a thoroughly pleased smile. "Oh, I have a casting call. It's for a movie. The part I'm going for will be my biggest yet." Deep chocolate eyes blink up at me, longing for me to be staggeringly impressed.

Instead, I only give her a small smile in return, before looking back at Slam. "You can go on up, I won't be long." Which means, I need just a little privacy.

"Sure." Slam gruffly says, turning his large and hulking frame before giving me that asked for privacy.

Now, I can deal with the familiar face. And that familiar face is Jenna, Jenna Acosta. A pretty little small-time actress who lives in LA, although her family originate from Portugal. Jenna has been in a few low budget films, made for TV movies and the odd little known music video. She's a sexy girl, someone I've been on/off with in the past. It's never been anything serious between us, we'd just hook up if we ever happened to be in the same place at the same time. And judging by the prolonged and flirtatious eye contact, Jenna thinks today might be one such time.

"You look good." Flashing me one of her high-cheeked smiles, followed by a flirtatious little tug on the fabric of my shirt, she keeps doing the talking. "I've been following your tour...looks like you've had a blast." Bringing her body even closer, all too publicly closer, she then whispers with a smirk. "Maybe we can blow off some steam together...later on?"

Stepping right back, holding her away with my arms, I firmly shake my head. "Not gonna happen, Jenna."

Laughing softly, she still tries to move in closer. "You've never said no before. Come on. You and me, we always have a wild and sexy time, don't we?" Her shoulders sassily lift, as she continues to playfully try to tug on my shirt.

Seeing Jenna now. After Clara. Makes her seem like many lifetimes ago. Yeah, we've always had a wild and sexy time together. But that was all before my girl. Now, neither me or my dick are interested in the wild and sexy times that Jenna is freely offering up to us.

Those days are behind me.

That Rhys Ryan no longer exists.

Running an exasperated hand through my hair, my body language makes itself all the more clearer. With a strong stance, my voice leaves little doubt about how I am feeling. "I'm seeing someone, Jenna. We've had some fun together in the past, but that's all it ever was...some fun."

Her sassy demeanour literally falls away from her body as she stares back at me with a disappointed frown. "You're always seeing someone, Rhys. All of us are big girls. We all know how it works with you. Okay, so you're seeing someone now, but that someone isn't here. And I, most certainly am."

Once again, Jenna tries to charmingly bring herself right up against me, but I literally step right away from her; my face screwed up tight with anger and disgust. "I mean it, Jenna! I'm not interested. Never was, never will be." Then with the same anger and disgust, I hastily storm away from where she stands. Getting the hell away from her futile flirting and unappealing pout.

Calling out behind me, she then has the nerve to yell. "You know where I am if you need me, Rhys!"

I hate that I'm the reason why chicks like Jenna are the way that they are with me.

I've been an asshole.

I've been a dick.

My dick has been...well, a dick.

I've fooled around with one too many vagina's.

I'm now seeing things so clearly. And it's ugly. I've slept my way around most of the world, with many beautiful but meaningless women. I've had who I wanted, when I wanted them. I've used them, almost as much as they've used me. Most of the women have only ever been a one time thing. Then there have been some who are like Jenna—ones that I've seen more than once.

But irrespective of how many times I have slept with someone, none of them have ever meant anything to me. The fact that I've not yet had sex with Clara, and that I'm still wanting to be with her, assures me that she's so very different. Without even knowing it, Clara makes me want to shun the person I was before I met her.

I'm embarrassed.

A little ashamed.

Yeah, it was fun at the time. Fame and too many chicks kind of goes hand in hand, I'm afraid. But now, it's time for me to grow up.

To be a man.

To be Clara's man.

And only, Clara's man.