When I arrived at the venue, I had fifteen minutes to spare. Smiling at myself, I made my way to the front entrance, grabbing my media card so they'd let me in. The security guard looked at it briefly, nodded and let me pass.

Once in, I scanned the place. These type of events were always organised differently, but I quickly noticed another girl, also around my age, but maybe a little younger, giving directions to familiar faces, fellow journalists. Bingo. I walked up to her with a friendly smile on my face.

"Hello, Amelia Ray for Glamour Magazine, I should be on the list for this year's winner of the voice?"

She scanned the tablet she was holding for the magazine's name, until her cheery expression fell. I frowned at her as she started speaking with an apologetic tone.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, miss Ray, someone should have called you! He couldn't make it today, apparently his manager wanted him in the studio to record his album as soon as possible and a slot opened up today or something."

My brow furrowed even deeper, I had definitely not been informed. What would I do now, the room for this article had already been made and replacing it with something different was difficult as it needed to fit the space perfectly or it would jeopardize the rest of the magazine's content this month. I hated disappointing our editor-in-chief, Laura and adding to her already high workload.

I nodded in understanding, not responding, as it wasn't this girl's fault, so I wasn't going to make a scene. I turned away from her, ready to leave so someone else could find out where they needed to go, when the girl spoke up again, making me turn back towards her.

"However.. I can give you some time with someone else, but he only has a ten minute gap, so your time would be limited and you'll have to wait an hour for your turn, he's from this boyband called..."

"I'll take it!" I interrupted.

I didn't even care who I needed to interview, I was sure the questions would come once I saw who it was, but then I worried I wouldn't even recognize the person. I turned back to ask her, but she was already busy talking to the next reporter and I was afraid to look unprofessional. Always had to think ahead, people could be lurking around the corner to destroy my career. Never trust anyone.

I bit my lip, my confidence breaking down a little. But then I remembered she had said he was part of a boyband and I didn't exactly live under a rock, so I was pretty confident I'd be alright. I looked at my wrist watch and wondered what I could do to kill the time, I couldn't even prepare new questions because of my impatience.

I scolded myself for not having waited until she had finished talking, but I'd learned to always grab any and every opportunity presented to you, to get ahead in life.

So instead of worrying, I sat down on a wooden bench and retrieved my phone from my bag, so I could call the magazine to give them a head's up about the changes. I phoned one of my co-workers, Sophia, who I trusted the most, and told her about the change of plans and asked her if someone would be able to pick out the accessories for my second article, using my moodboards, in case I didn't make it back in time.

I heard her making notes and smiled, grateful to have someone covering for me, having my back. Journalism is a tough world, and I knew there were dozens of girls, or sharks, waiting to take my place, or any place that opened up.

"Thanks Sophia." I said, after receiving confirmation from her and ended the call.  I tossed my phone back into my handbag carelessly, realising I know had to find a way to kill some time. I tapped my fingers against the side of my thighs, trying not to look too bored.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity (yes, I know, I'm very impatient), I saw the girl from earlier approaching, so I sat up straighter and looked up at her expectantly.

"He's free now, you can find him in room 6." she said with a polite smile.

I nodded a thanks to her, while getting up to meet my mystery celebrity. I walked as fast as my heels would allow me to, not wanting to waste any of the precious time I had to interview him. Reaching the door, I politely tapped it once, to be welcomed by a friendly, 'come in', to which I obliged.

But when I entered, and my eyes fell upon the person waiting for me, it felt as though all the air had been knocked out of me. In the middle of the room, on a director's chair, sat Leonard Cohen, from the world famous boy band The Cohens.

You might think I was simply star-struck, but I wasn't. In front of me was a person I vowed never to let into my life again, because to me, he wasn't world famous Leonard Cohen, he was Lennie, a boy from my high school, and my bully. He didn't look any different to me, still that blonde, curly hair, even though it was cropped short so you'd barely see it. Mesmerizing blue eyes and a smile that could woo anyone. An angel's face, but to me, he was the devil in the flesh. This man had solemnly made my high school experience a living hell. He had shattered my confidence and self-worth and had stomped on my heart. In my trance, I hadn't realized I was biting my lip until I tasted blood, so I quickly let go, but remained frozen in the entrance.

"Uhm, everything okay, lass?" He asked me.

How could he ask me that! He had inflicted so much pain, had made me feel worthless and was now thinking it was okay, to ask me if I was okay? Did that really sound like such a good idea, Cohen? I wanted to spit at him, to rake my carefully manicured nails across his face and inflict some good permanent damage.

Bu I simply nodded, finally making my way over to my chair, directly placed across his and hopping into it. Leonard was still looking at me expectantly, and I finally realized, he had no idea who I was. Why would he, of course, not many bullies remember whose life they have messed up, or realize what kind of impact they have made on their victims, so why would he be different? Why would I be special?

I tried to remind myself that I was in a better place now, and that it didn't matter anymore. So slowly, I regained my professionalism and grabbed my phone from my bag. I tapped record and faced him.

"So mr. Cohen, let's start with an obvious question. What's it like to be in a band with your brothers, well not just you brothers, but triplets at that? Don't you get sick of each other while on tour?"

I smiled, proud to have regained my composure without him noticing too much of my breakdown.

"Please, call me Leonard." He interjected, before proceeding to answer the question, while my smile faltered a little. I didn't want to call him Leonard, it would come too close to calling him Lennie, which was how all of his friends called him, and I knew a large part of his fanbase, or fangirls, used the name as well. It would mean walking very close to the edge of painful memories.

Of course, he probably didn't mean anything by it, he's my age so that's probably why he feels uncomfortable with me calling him by his last name.

"Well, obviously we know each other through and through, so we know when one of us has had enough. It also works the other way around, we know what makes each other tick so banter is never far from our bond, but when you're brothers, or triplets, you're stuck with each other no matter what, so I'd say it's easier than being just friends. We can't fall out with each other, because we still have to sit through family dinners on Sundays."

I nodded, not bothering to write anything down, as my phone was recording everything. This allowed me to actually listen to what was being said, so I was able to pick in on some part of the answers, or pay attention to his facial expressions. I was beginning to feel happy that I had to interview him, it was hard for me to face him, but at least he was taking his time to answer, and not giving me one sentence answers, or yes and nos, gosh those kind of interviews are horrid.

"Speaking of family dinners, are you close to your family?" Good girl, Amelia, that's it, I praised myself to be able to continue the interview with zero preparation. Of course, it was like cheating a little, because I knew him on a more personal level, and I'll admit, I had kept tabs on him.

"Yes, obviously, I don't see them as much as I'd like to, apart from my siblings, but we are very close and supportive of one another."

I nodded, as if I understood, but didn't. I won't ever understand how someone can talk with so much pride about his family, talking about how close and supportive they are. Do they know what he did to me? Does he really make his parents proud with that kind of behavior?

"Where do you see yourself going in the next five years?"

I asked a new question, trying not to let my emotions cloud this interview.

Sadly, before Leonard could answer me, someone entered the room to tell me I had run out of time, so I start to get up, but suddenly, Leonard's hand is on my knee, so I look up, trying my hardest not to recoil from his touch as I want to hiss at him to remove his hand at once.

"We're not done yet," he announces, "Tell the next interviewer to wait fifteen minutes."

Speechless, I look up at him, completely baffled. What the hell was he doing? Does he realize who I am after all? I held my breath, unsure of how to proceed, as I tried to shift so he would drop his hand from my knee. I was preparing myself for some snarky remark about how I could change my clothes and the way I looked, but how it would never make a difference.

Instead, he began to smile, which nearly frightened me more.

"I like your questions." He spoke, while moving back to sit comfortably.

I frowned, because I hadn't been expecting his statement.

"I believe you need to restart your recording before I answer though." He proceeded when I didn't reply.

I was confused as hell, but started the recording anyway, this interview was way too important to walk out now. He didn't need to be urged on, or reminded the question, which left me wondering. He smiled at me, probably to reassure me, but it didn't work.

"To answer your question, ideally I'd like to record a few more albums, I believe there's a lot left for me to say, but in five years, I'd like to be settled down, have a family, maybe a dog."

"Aww, so I should write to all your fans that playboy Leonard Cohen is ready to settle down? "

Oops, maybe that came out a little too strong.

He seemed surprised by my outburst too, but then chuckled.

"That depends, need to find the right girl first."

I made an odd sound, probably somewhere between a scoff and choking on saliva, but I coughed to hide it. Didn't want him to think I was interested, but I'd highly doubt Mr. Playboy was ready to throw in the towel. I mentally slapped myself for being so outspoken, but having so much history with a guy who doesn't even know you have history, and having to interview him, is harder than you might think.

"You consider yourself to be a good catch then, Leonard?"

His name tasted weird on my tongue, using it again after so much time, it was like it was laced with acid. But I kept my cool, trying to come as if this was a genuine question, when all I wanted to do is slap him, to be honest.

"Yeah, I think I am yeah."

"Alright then, I think that's all the time we have today." I then said, eager to get out of here, shutting down the interview before the interview got out of hand, or even more out of hand than they were already getting.

I got up, but was again stopped by Leonard, who really didn't seem to be in a hurry to get away from this interview. I sighed inwardly and looked up and see him standing as well. Still towering over me with his Adonis-like height.

"It's really nice to meet you, miss.." his voice trailed off, leaving me to answer with my name. I hesitated, afraid he would recognize my real name, and that he would come haunt me again, but then I remembered I could simply use my pen name.

"Miss Ray, Amelia Ray."

"Alright, Amelia Ray, I'm sure we'll meet again."

With that, he let me leave the room, and I was sure I looked a little flustered.

Ugh.

I hate what he does to me.