I nearly lost my shit.

Coming out of Harrods and right in front of the paps, I actually nearly lost my shit.

But I didn't.

I didn't because of Clara.

No matter how angry I felt about her, Cam and Maci, she somehow managed to stop me from blowing up at the paps who had been hounding me.

How did she do that?

Tell me?

Because I really need to know.

I have so many storms raging their way right through me at the moment, yet Clara halted their destructive paths using only her soft British voice and her kind and thoughtful eyes.

My temper calmed because of her.

Temporarily sedated because of her.

So I didn't end up losing my shit.

I gave the paps and the screaming fans what they all wanted—Rhys Ryan, the global superstar.

By the time I get to the stadium, guilt is beginning to chip away at some of my attitude.

I was off to mom.

Off with Clara.

Everything about me is just off right now and I'm beginning to feel real shit about it.

I'm me.

I'm used to getting what I want.

I'm used to things going my way.

But with Maci, and now with Clara, I feel like I have zero control over what is happening. Which isn't anyone else's problem, it's only mine.

I think I just need some more alone time. Some time to figure out how to stop feeling so sorry for myself. As I'm about to do that, I hear Will ask Clara whether she'd like to help grab some merchandise with him. With my douchey state of mind, I find myself being very opposed to her helping him. It's like every other person gets to be all alone with her, when I don't seem to be able to. So without thinking, I stupidly react. "Clara isn't here to help you, Will."

"I am happy to help, it's better than me doing nothing." Which is Clara's polite way of saying that she would rather fetch some merchandise with Will, rather than doing what she should be doing—continuing an interview with the dick of a pop star who happens to be me.

So I become defensive, addressing her curtly. "He's on my payroll...you aren't." I'm hitting an all-time low. I'm using my superstar status to belittle them both. Not cool. Not cool at all.

"Thank bloody God!" Clara almost yells back, looking at Will with total exasperation before her angered eyes finally settle on me.

"Right, follow me!" I order her to come to my dressing room with me right now. Once I get there, I honestly don't know whether I'll just tear strips off the infuriating Clara Thorn or insanely just kiss her. She confuses and impresses me, both at the same tumultuous time.

But Clara Thorn is stubborn to the beautiful core. "After I have helped Will with the merchandise." She defiantly fumes.

Deep down, I know that this isn't about Will or the merchandise, this is about us. "To hell with the merchandise!" I reach for her hand, becoming more insistent that she comes with me. I don't know why I'm acting this way. All I know is that I need to be alone with Clara, if only to see what happens when I put us both in a confined room together.

But again, Clara has other ideas. Pulling herself free of my bullish hold, she is now totally pissed. "How dare you! Firstly, you don't touch me. Secondly, I said after." Her eyes are tight with anger and her tense body looks deployed for an all-out argument with me.

That same confusion and impressiveness pumps itself all around my just as tense body.

I should be arguing back.

I should be putting her in her journalistic place.

Only, I don't.

Instead, I just quietly concede. "Fine." Then I walk away. Away from Clara, and away from an amused Will.

Yeah, all the shit that I said I've recently had harnessed to my chest?

Well, I think Clara Thorn has just harnessed herself to my heart.

**

No sooner have I sat down in my dressing room, I'm calling my mom. I need to offload my growing guilt.

I've been a dick to her. I've been a spoilt dick to Will, and an even bigger spoilt dick to Clara. I'll get to Will and Clara in good time. First, I need to check that my mom's okay.

"Hi sweetheart." Mom is using the voice that is supposed to hide the fact that she's really upset. I think I get the ability to be two different people from her. On stage, I'm Rhys Ryan the pop star heartthrob. Off stage, I'm just a man trying to shed the skin of his superstar status. Mom often hides all of her heartache behind a motherly smile, but I more than anyone, knows that a smile can hide many a thing.

"I'm sorry about earlier, Mom." Diving straight into my apology, I feel better already for saying it.

Sweetly and softly laughing, Mom's reply is veneered with her maternal love. "Don't be silly, Rhys, it should be me apologising. You have enough on your plate at the moment, and here I am worrying you over your sister. I should have waited until after your final show until I called you. Since we last spoke, I've been so cross with myself for not waiting. I'm sorry if I've ruined your last show, Rhys...truly I am."

"You've not ruined anything, Mom...I'm fine." Having this conversation, I really am working on being fine. I know that I will get on that stage later tonight and give one hell of a kick ass show that everyone will be talking about for weeks and weeks after it.

That's who I am.

It's what I do.

And I'm pretty damn good at what I do.

No matter what shit is going down in my personal life, my music always camouflages all of the drama.

"I can't wait for you to come home." Mom excitedly tells me down the line.

"Me too." I lie. I'm not looking forward to going home. I'm not looking forward to having to sort out my total screw up of a sister. I'm not looking forward to coming down from the long adrenaline high of my worldwide tour. I'm not looking forward to any of it.

The only thing that I'm actually looking forward to right now, is Clara Thorn still being angry with me when she eventually comes and sees me. "I need you to be honest with me about something, Mom?"

"Of course, sweetheart...what is it?"

"I've met this journalist. I'm not really sure what is happening, but she's been driving me crazy, Mom. There's so much I want to find out about her, but I know that I don't have time." Exhaling on a long breath, I lean right forward in my chair. "This girl is awesome, beautifully awesome, Mom. I don't know whether I should just leave things as they are or maybe try and take things further?" My voice is weighted down with such doubt. Doubt about my feelings and doubt about the actions that I make about those feelings. With my head low, pointing down between my knees, I rub the back of my tensioned neck with my stressed fingers.

Hearing my troubled sigh, Mom tries to ease some of my tension. "Sweetheart, just go with whatever you are feeling. You say you don't have time, then you must make time. As you told me earlier, you can't do anything about Maci at the moment. I've made a few calls, I think she's back with one of her friends. Not the sort of friend that you and I would like her to have, but at least she's not wandering the streets or anything. Going back to your lovely journalist problem, who is called what by the way?" Mom cleverly coaxes a name from out of me.

"She's called Clara." I say with a small smile, because that is what Clara makes me do—smile.

"Right, that's a very pretty name. Okay, going back to Clara, just go with what feels right, Rhys. You've always followed that creative heart of yours. It's never let you down before, has it?" There's humour in Mom's question; lighthearted humour.

"No, it hasn't." With my admittance, comes yet another smile.

"Is Clara British?" Mom casually enquires.

"Yeah, she is."

"So you're worried that the distance might cause a problem should she feel the same way about you as you feel about her?" Mom is scarily precise with her question.

"Yeah." Comes my slightly wary reply, still reeling a little from just how intuitive my mom is being about my situation over Clara. 

"And do you think that Clara feels the same way about you?"

Now my mom really does have me in a chokehold. I swing between Yes and No with this question. When I think of the way Clara's teal eyes have often looked at me, I'd say yes. But remembering how the same eyes had just looked at me back in the corridor, I'm now not so sure. "I dunno." Defeat quickly slips through my lips. I don't know what is going on in that gorgeous head of hers, but I certainly want to find out. "I guess time will tell." I quietly admit to my mom.

"If it's meant to be, it will be." Such positivity is emitted down the phone line, positivity that I clutch onto. "Don has just pulled up on the drive, sweetheart, I'd better go. I'll call you tomorrow if I don't hear anything before, okay?" Mom affectionately tells me. "I love you." Her voice is lovingly sing-song now.

"Love you too."

Just when I think that mom has already hung up, I hear her soft voice. "Rhys?"

"Yeah?" I just as softly answer.

"I know that your sister is a mess, but hopefully one day, she won't be. You're a wonderful son and an even more wonderful brother. Both me and Maci are very lucky to have you." With emotion making her voice gently quake, mom then quickly hangs up.

She was about to cry, and probably didn't want to in front of Don. He hates to see her cry. It's probably one of the rare things that we actually do have in common with each other. Well, that and our mutual distrust of Maci.

Nothing my sister says anymore, I believe. She only ever tells my mom what she wants her to hear. And unfortunately, my mom still believes her. After all the disappointment and all the lies, mom still wants to listen to the daughter that she gave birth to. I don't think that mom sees the cold and dead stare of a drug addict when she looks into Maci's eyes, I think she sees the sad eyes of her darling little girl who just wants her mommy to make everything better.

But me, I am now able to see Maci for all she truly is—an addict.

Which is why I find it so hard to breathe the same air as she does. I haven't been able to be in the same room as her for months and months now. Working, gives me a valid reason for not being able to see her. Even when she overdosed, I still couldn't bring myself to go and be with her. The constant disappointment and realisation that Maci is no longer the sister I used to have, has just become too much.

Yet Mom, still tries to love her. She still tries to be there for her.

When Don is unable to be a loving stepfather and I'm unable to be a loving brother, mom is still working hard to be a loving mother. She's being pulled in so many directions, but somehow, mom is always the glue to our dysfunctional family. Maybe that's why I stay away so much? I love my mom. I hate to cause her anymore pain, because she already has enough pain in her life. She's always the peacemaker. The one who is constantly smoothing out the bumps in the family's road. My lack of wanting to be around Maci and Don, only makes things harder for mom. So returning home, is going to be shit. It's going to be shit because I'll have to play happy families for my moms sake. What energy I'll have, Maci will quickly drain. That's what my sister does. Her addiction becomes my problem. Then day by day and hour by hour, my brotherly love for her gets poisoned by the resentment that I increasingly feel for her. It actually hurts feeling like that. Knowing that someone you once loved is becoming nothing but a bitter burden. With my mobile held between my knees in both of my hands, sadness ripples through my entire body.

I don't know if I can face that burden just yet?

I don't think I am ready.

Maybe I'm just using Clara as a reason to stay?

Maybe I'm just using her as a reason to run away from all that faces me back in LA?

Let's face it, I'm hardly decent boyfriend material, am I?

I screw around, then move on.

But I think I really want Clara.

She's a game changer.

In a matter of days, she has drawn out the best parts of me. Parts I never knew existed. On the flip side, she has also drawn out the ugliest parts of me. Jealousy and pettiness, are also parts of me that I never knew existed. This is why I know that Clara is different; preciously different...but I also think I've blown it.

My very high opinion of myself, has plummeted me to the lowest levels of my confidence. Being Rhys Ryan always gets me the girls, but I don't think it will get me Clara Thorn.

As I've said many times before, she is very different.

And that is why I can't keep being the same.