I didn't go into Uni on Tuesday. In solidarity with my smashed phone, Noah simply switched his off and we spent the day watching cartoons in the flat. Whatever Karen had to say about the leaked kissing photo or whatever the world was trying to find out about Noah Hartnett's 'mystery brunette', we weren't ready to face it.

There were more important things to worry about.

On Wednesday morning we were up and dressed by eight o'clock, ready to make our way over to Charlotte and Alex's house. Leaving via the side door, we jumped into the blacked-out Audi waiting for us and made it over to their part of town unnoticed.

"Do you know what I miss?" I said, turning to face at Noah as we shared the backseat.

"What?"

"Your car. I liked sitting up front next to you, not being chauffeured around everywhere."

"Well, it's only in storage," he grinned. "Maybe I can get it out this weekend and we can go on a long drive. Go down to the coast or something?"

"I slipped my hand into his across the seat and smiled. "I'd like that."

When the four of us pulled up outside Westminster Magistrates' Court, there were already photographers waiting outside. Even on a day as serious as this, they just couldn't leave the boys alone. The fact that Charlotte was about to relive one of the most horrific experiences of her life apparently didn't warrant any fucking privacy.

"You go ahead girls," Alex said, turning around in the passenger seat to face Noah, Charlotte and me in the back. "We'll get out further down the road and hopefully distract them."

"No," Charlotte said, her voice firm. "I'm not playing hide and seek. I want you by my side Alex. You're my husband. Abi, Noah, if you don't want to face the cameras then I completely understand."

I squeezed her knee, "We're coming with you," I smiled, glancing over to catch Noah's eye. His small nod was all the confirmation I needed that it was now or never. For all of us.

As Alex stepped out of the car and opened the door for Charlotte, the paparazzi swarmed, all shouting questions that they had no right to know the answers to.

Noah was next to step out. As he reached a hand back into the car, I inhaled a deep breath and grabbed it as though my life depended on it. The clicking of cameras as we walked the short distance to the building was relentless. In the rabble of questions, the line of questioning switched from details of Charlotte's attack, to who I was and whether Noah and I were serious.

Just like Noah, Alex and Charlotte ahead of me, I remained silent and kept my head down. I guess they weren't ready to make us into fish and chip paper just yet.

It took just two hours for the jury to find Charlotte's attacker 'not guilty'. As he was acquitted, I could see Charlotte's body begin to shake from where we sat up in the gallery. On reflex, Alex stood to go to her, but Noah pulled him back into his seat.

"You can't get down there, man," he whispered, wrapping his arm tightly around Alex's shoulders.

"It's bullshit," Alex hissed. "That cunt raped my wife and just got away with it scot-free. I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill him."

"Not here," Noah replied, pulling Alex in tighter.

The car journey back to theirs was a silent affair. None of us wanted to discuss how the evidence given by Charlotte's attacker had made it sound as though she had consented to the whole thing. How the jury had listened with a sympathetic ear about how his whole future as a pre-med undergraduate was now hanging by a thread thanks to her accusation. How his defence lawyer had talked as though Charlotte was a silly girl, who drunkenly cheated on her boyfriend and wanted to cover it up.

The whole experience had left me sick to my stomach. Especially when I thought about what Alex might do if he ever got his hands on the guy.

After the child-minder had dropped Erin back at their house, it was obvious Charlotte and Alex needed to be alone. Promising to stop round the next day, Noah and I said our goodbyes and jumped into an Uber. All the way back to our flat, Noah held me close under his arm. His embrace felt more protective than ever.

By the time we got home, his phone was already flashing with notifications. The press hadn't hesitated to start running the story online, telling the world how the drummer from The Ambition and his wife faced a 'harrowing morning in court' that resulted in a 'not guilty plea being upheld'. 

The more downmarket sites had also run the photos of Noah and me walking into court. Somehow, they had found out my name and referred to me as a 'teenage student' who was the 'current fling' in Noah's life. If only they knew that was untrue. I had been Noah's only 'fling' the whole time. Everything that had been said about him and Arla Breeze, every photo of him politely posing for photos with celebrity admirers backstage; the media may have tried to link him to anything female and breathing, but I knew the truth.

Karen, however, was not quite as understanding.

That night, Noah received an email, along with the rest of the band. He could barely stay still as he read it aloud, pacing back and forth across the living room in frustration as I sat curled up on the sofa, hugging a cushion to my chest.

The label was not at all happy with the attention the boys had been getting, saying it risked their reputation among their younger fans. The fact that only a couple of days before, Mikey had been photographed falling out a club in Barcelona with white powder on the end of his nose didn't help the situation.

According to Karen, their record contract was hanging by a thread unless they cleaned up their act. No more party photos, no more courtroom dramas, and no more secret girlfriends.

Screwing his face up as he read her instructions out loud, Noah threw his phone down onto the sofa. Luckily, I caught it before it bounced off onto the floor and joined mine in the graveyard of iPhones gone but not forgotten.

"If she doesn't want any more 'secret girlfriends' then I guess we better carry on being public with our relationship," he spat.

"But, the record contract?" I replied, "If things are as bad as she says then I don't want to push it. You guys have been working hard on the second album, don't throw it away."

"We've been working our tits off," Noah sighed as he flopped down onto the sofa next to me. "But, truth is, we've been writing absolute shit. Nothing seems to be right, we just can't agree on what direction we want this album to take."

"I'm sure that's just writer's block," I soothed, lifting his arm up to snuggle in under it.

"Maybe," he sighed, "But when you're under pressure to get a whole album's worth of songs done by the summer then there isn't time for writer's block."

Turning his face to rest his chin on my head, his breath was hot on my scalp as he spoke. "Maybe we could have a go at writing something together?"

I let out a groan. "I don't know," I said, shaking my head. "The last thing I tried to write was pretty shit. PCJ haven't even given me another brief since then. Maybe I've lost my touch."

"Maybe you just didn't have the right inspiration?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, think about today. How Charlotte was treated like shit in that courtroom, yet she'll just pick herself up and get on with it. She has to, for that little girl she's raising who's going to look up to her. That strength and determination is amazing."

"So we should write a song about my best friend being raped?" I sat up and looked at Noah with a frown. "Bit sick, don't you think?"

"No." He shook his head with a smile as he stood up and went to grab his boots from by the front door. "Just take those emotions we all saw and felt today, throw them into a pot and let's see what comes out."

Dropping back onto the sofa to tie his laces, he turned to smile at me over his shoulder. "Come on, get your shoes on. I've got a key to the studio, let's go right now."

"Noah!" I yelped, "It's nearly midnight and I've got classes tomorrow."

"Oh come on, it's not like you've got a clean sheet as it is. How many days have you actually showed up to Uni this year? Two?"

Punching him in the arm, I laughed. "Hey, I'm a busy girl. Sometimes you've got to prioritise."

"Well, prioritise the fact that the Noah Hartnett is asking to borrow your talent for one night," he grinned, leaning in to place a lingering kiss on my lips. "I need your help, Abs. Please?"

"Did you just call me Abs?"

He grimaced. "I think I did."

I screwed my nose up and furrowed my brow. "It sounded weird."

Noah let out a small huff of laughter. "It did, didn't it?"

"I think I didn't mind it, though."

Leaning back in for another kiss, Noah's hot breath sent a tingle across my skin. "Well, I'll call you whatever you like, if it means you'll come to the studio with me?"

Pushing a lock of hair back from his face with my fingertips, I pursed my lips sternly. "Fine, but you owe me."

"Whatever you want," he grinned, jumping to his feet and pulling me up with him. "Just nothing in my bum."

"Ugh!" I squealed, "You're such a pervert."

Shrugging his jacket onto one arm as he ordered a taxi in the other, Noah smirked, the dimple on his left cheek appearing. "You love it, really."

Muttering to myself as I shook my head, I grabbed my fur coat from the hook. "Seriously," I said, looking up at him, "This is mental."

"I know." His face broke into a patronising smile. "But you're amazing for doing it, Abs."

I rolled my eyes as I walked past him and through the door. "Don't push it."

The latch clicked close behind us. "Sorry. I'm just grateful, Abs."

"Stop it."

Putting on a stupid, geeky accent, his voice was a whisper as he padded down the stairs behind me. "No really, I super appreciate this, Abs."

"Seriously."

It was getting harder to keep a straight face as we tiptoed through the dark, silent hallway towards the front door. His newly-invented, lisping impression was just as bad as every accent he ever tried to do.

"I love you, Abs."

"You're an idiot."

"Thank you."