Hello everybody.

Many of you have been asking for an update ASAP after chapter Thirty-Two's ending. Things are really complicated at work right now, and I've been struggling for time, but here's the new update.

Sorry it's a short one.

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Thirty-Three

Let it never be said I wasn't brought up right. Sure, I'd just caught my boyfriend snogging another woman, but I had manners enough to not only not disrupt them, but assure them some privacy by shutting the door, leaving them alone.

I wanted to run away from Harry and his blonde, long-haired, beautiful girl. I hadn't seen her face, just her back, but I'm sure she is gorgeous, with model-like looks.

I felt numb all over. None of the myriads of reactions that might spring from finding your man with another woman seem suitable to me at the moment. Sure I could go all out and storm into the dressing room loudly demanding an explanation; or, go for a more quiet approach like walking in quietly, letting out a small lady-like cough to make my presence known. I could also pull the fire alarm, surely they'd be forced to break away from each other in order to evacuate the premises.

Any thought of retrieving the camera Harry had recently gifted me slipped completely from my mind, as I walked aimlessly through the backstage hallways of the Los Angeles Greek Theater, looking for someplace to crawl into.

Although the show was over, the venue still continued to buzz with the frantic activity of many crewmembers. Everything had to be dismantled, checked for any damage that might have occurred during the performance, and properly stored away for the next concert.

I finally found an empty fold-up chair, abandoned in an unlit corner and sat down. I rested my elbows on my knees and my head on my hands, waiting for the tears to come. They didn't, there was no sobbing. I felt utterly paralyzed, I'm not sure if I was even breathing anymore. This chair would be my new home, for the years to come. Next to the chair, on the floor, some fast food restaurant paper bags lay discarded. Perfect, maybe there were some leftover chips and pickles, I wouldn't starve.

My phone began ringing. People can be so rude sometimes.

My entire life was crashing down around me. I should be allowed the common courtesy of uninterrupted pain and suffering.

I glanced at the phone screen. It was Anne. I didn't pick up.

Suddenly, it came back to me that I was supposed to attend with Anne and Gemma the celebration of my lying boyfriend's first solo tour.

Telling myself that Anne is a very nice woman and that it's not her fault that her son is a two-timing jerk, I called her back. She picked up immediately.

"Are you all right, lovely?" Anne asked in a worried voice, "You went to get your camera a while back. Gemma and I are waiting."

"I seem to have misplaced it," I replied, in what I hoped was a calm voice, " I'm gonna look for it a bit more. You go on ahead."

"Are you sure?" she insisted, "we can wait till you find it."

"That's quite all right," I persisted, "don't miss anything on my account. I'll catch a ride with somebody else later."

It went like this for a bit more. She insisted on waiting for me, and I declined again. She voiced her concern about leaving me behind since most people had already left. I assured her that there were still plenty of people with whom I could catch a ride. We said our thank yous and goodbyes and hang up.

That damned camera was much more trouble than it was worth. I wished I had never said I wanted a camera out loud. That way Harry wouldn't have heard me, and he wouldn't have gifted me the darned contraption, and I wouldn't have left in his dressing room, and I wouldn't have needed to go back and pick it up, I wouldn't have seen my boyfriend of the last two days kissing somebody else.

These thoughts made me relieve the scene I had just witnessed in Harry's dressing room. He was toplees, his beautiful blue flowered jacket and black shirt were thrown over the sofa, and she stood with her rail-thin model body right in front of him, her bony hands grabbing each side of his gorgeous face, his lovely hands clutching her arms, both their mouths pressed together.

When I was closing the door, I swear I heard Harry calling her "Camille." She surely was an amazing kisser, since she had him already moaning her name.

Surely the long-haired blonde goddess I'd seen was none other than Camille Rowe. Harry's allegedly new girlfriend. Just two nights ago I had him in my room, telling me about his previous relationships, he had even told me about Tess Ward. But he had omitted his current supermodel girlfriend. Maybe he thought that having two girlfriends was an all right and rock and roll thing to do. Maybe even Camille was okay with it, her being French and all.

Surely I had been extremely naïve thinking that Pop/Rock royalty like Harry Styles would fall for little old me. I'm just a plain, ordinary, common girl.

In a masochist exercise, I began looking in YouTube for videos of the time Grimmy interviewed Harry, hooked him to a heart monitor, showed him a fabulous photo of Camille and asked him about her. In a strange way, it made me feel a little better. If Harry could fool a sophisticated medical machine, when he lied on air and said he didn't know Camille, I clearly hadn't stood a chance.

I then carried on with my self-inflicting exercises in pain and googled all the photos of Harry and Camille together. Thankfully there weren't many. Some grainy ones of them in NYC, and a couple of them in LA. The photos didn't really constitute any hard proof of them being a couple, but I couldn't deny the reality my own eyes had witnessed.

My phone started to ring again. It was Harry. Him I wasn't planning on answering at all. Perhaps I should block him. I did wonder what was he ringing me for, maybe he was into threesomes?

My phone rang incessantly for several minutes and then fell silent. I sighed relieved, until several messages began to arrive, one after another. All from Harry.

Bliss, where are you?

Bliss, are you ok?

Bliss, I'm calling. Please pick up.

Pick up, baby.

Pick up, baby, please.

My mum says you stayed at The Greek.

Don't worry about your camera, I've got it. It was in my dressing room. Come to the party.

Bliss, are you coming? Where are you? Are you all right?

And then, my phone started to ring again, propelled by Harry's calls. Clearly, he wasn't giving up. As much as I loathed the idea of him right now, I'd have to answer him.

The next time my phone rang, I picked up.

"Hello Bliss, baby," his silky voice poured into my ears, and my treacherous skin got all goosebumpy just by listening to him.

"Hello," I answered with as little emotion as I could master.

"Are you all right, baby?" he asked, sounding so sincerely worried, the cheating bastard.

"I'm ok," I managed.

"You don't sound good. I'm worried" he declared. Worry should have come before you stuck your tongue down Camille's throat.

"No need to worry. I stayed behind to watch the crew dismantle the stage, it's interesting. Wanna write about it."

"Sure, Bliss. I love that you want to write about what goes on before and after the show." He reasoned, "but let's leave it for another time. There's a party tonight and I want my girlfriend by my side." He should be more specific as to which girlfriend he was talking about. Simple me or the French beauty?

"I don't think I'm going," I told him.

"Why not? What's wrong?" he inquired, "Mum told me you were worried about the camera. But there's no need, I've got it. It's safe." Overachieving little thing, he was turning out to be, he not only had my camera but another woman on his arms as well.

"I'm just poorly. I must be coming down with the flu." I fibbed.

"Oh, baby. Can't you take some tablets and come? I miss you" he said, wistfully.

"I think I'm just going to bed Harry." I said as firmly as I could muster.

"All right," he conceded, "I feel like there's something you're not telling me, baby. But I'll give you some space for now. Just remember there also will be a party in Las Vegas, you can't get out of that one."

"Yeah, looking forward to it."

After sending me kisses over the phone and making sure I had a car and a driver to take me home, Harry hang up. Listening to his throaty, lovely voice rose me to higher levels of misery. I needed to get out of there and find a Harry free zone for tonight at least.

Of course, getting away from anything Harry related was easier said than done. I was working on his tour, after all.

Resigning myself to my fate I gathered my things and walked out of the venue, where there was a car waiting for me. Beside the car, a tour bus was parked, with crew members milling around, loading tons of stuff into it.

"Is this bus leaving tonight?" I asked a tall, massive man, who seemed to be in charge.

"Yes ma'am," he answered, "we're leaving for Las Vegas in an hour."

"But Harry's performance is two days away." I said.

"Yes, but there'll be several performers there. So we're arriving early to make sure everything works all right." He informed me. "Don't wanna arrive at the last minute and have to queue for hours to test our equipment."

"Makes sense," I told him, "Mind if I tag along with you? I'm writing about the crew work prior and after the show."

"You're welcome to accompany us." He offered kindly.

This was as far away from Harry as I could get for now. I'd go to Vegas tonight.

I had still sixty minutes until the bus left. After making them promise they wouldn't leave without me, I hopped in the waiting car and asked the driver to take me to Harry's LA house.

As soon as we parked in Harry's garage I hurried upstairs and grabbed my suitcases which were already packed. Now let's get one thing clear here, my suitcases being packed was not due to any obsessive-compulsive urge to organize from my part, quite the opposite. Since I loathe unpacking and find it such an unnecessary hassle, I simply hadn't done so since arriving in LA. I had worn a few items since we've arrived there, of course, but they were already laundered and neatly folded in the wardrobe drawers since Harry had a very efficient housekeeper, I quickly chucked them in my carryall, along with the few toiletries I'd put on on the bathroom counter.

With my luggage on tow, I couldn't run downstairs, but I did hurry as much as I could and asked the driver to take me back to the waiting bus.

Of course, there was the matter of hotel accommodations to sort. Thankfully we live in the internet era. I clicked on my phone, checking for the schedule Harry's tour manager had given me and accomplished the necessary reservation changes.

There was only one issue left to handle. Harry himself.

Surely, he was expecting to come back from the party and find me asleep in his house. If I wasn't there he was going to pester me with never-ending influx of phone calls and texts. So I decided to take the bull by the horns and text him myself.

I'm off to Las Vegas with the crew.

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Writing this update took longer than I'd liked. I wrote it as fast as I could do today, thanks to a meeting being canceled at the last minutes. So, I apologize for all the incorrect grammar, spelling and punctuation.

Hope you like it, please hit the star

Loads of love!

E, xoxo