The host looks like he is going to choke. The room is dead silent. I refuse to look anywhere but into this jackass's eyes, though I feel vomit rising in my throat.

"I'm sorry," the host finally speaks. "I had no idea." He removes the orange from his desk.

"Okay folks, we're going to stop tape for a moment." The producer walks over to me. "We can cut this out."

"No, don't," I say. "I'm fine." Fuck. Am I? I kind of am.

"But I look like an asshole," the host counters.

"Yes, you do. Because you were being an asshole. Trying to embarrass me. Well, I turned it back on you, and you deserved it." The crowd in the theater whoops and cheers when I say that. "If you cut it to make yourself look good, you're an even bigger asshole."

"I'm sorry," he says again.

The producer looks at me, like I might break. Or break things. Or break people. "Do you want to continue?"

"Do you have anything that can lighten this up?" I ask. The host nods. "All right." I will not let him beat me.

I really need to call my therapist.

"Okay, rolling again in 5." They cue us in.

"I can't believe you agreed to stay for another segment," the host says, looking appropriately contrite.

I look into the camera. "Me neither." The crowd laughs. I love breaking the fourth wall.

"I'm truly sorry for what I said," he wants me to let him off the hook. I just nod.

"Okay, you clearly don't want to talk about leaving the show. Or the show. Or yourself. So let's find something you do like to talk about. Help me out. What would that be?" He looks and sounds like the bumbling buffoon he is.

"Books." I answer after a pause.

He straightens up. "Books. That relates to the show. What's your favorite book?"

"Impossible question."

"Top five?" He is desperate.

"Hmm. The Harry Potter series--that counts as one book, not seven." The crowd laughs. "The Great Gatsby."

The host is engaged. He is listening and smiling. I am my real self and people like me.

"I love The Stand by Stephen King. And every book by Dick Francis."

"Really?" He is surprised that a teenager would read old British mysteries about horse racing. I nod. "Legit. One left."

I laugh. A real laugh. Not a fake tv laugh. "Okay, well, this isn't an actual book, but I love to read 'Turning Pages' fanfiction."

"Really? Are any of them good?"

"Yeah, quite a few. Some are just twisted."

"Like what, give me an example."

"Okay, well. Probably the most disturbing one I read was where Jenna was still my mom, and we had an incestuous lesbian relationship. There aren't a lot like that, but there are tons where the characters aren't related and have a lot of sex. A lot. And of course, there are the ones where I'm a vampire or Jonas is a werewolf. Stuff like that."

"Do you ever interact with the writers? Like, do they know you're reading?"

"They do now." We all laugh. Real laughs. "But no, I don't interact. I'm a lurker, as they say. But I really enjoy reading them, and to all the fanfic writers out there, I just want to say, you are dirty, dirty perverts."

"Maddie Turner, it has been a pleasure having you here tonight."

"Thank you for having me."

And I am done. I walk backstage feeling a calm unlike I've ever known. Until I see Lou. She is crying, her mascara running down her face in gray streaks. She wraps her arms around me. Her whole body is shaking. And then I start to cry too. "You are so brave," she murmurs against my hair. I don't know about that. I don't feel brave. It wasn't courage, it was rage that made me so honest. I was pissed, and I lost control of my mouth. I am already regretting letting in so many people, millions of people. I should have just walked off the fucking stage.

The limo ride away from the studio is silent, and all I can think about is my brother. How he was before. How he was my best friend in the world. How he hung there with no shoes on. Lou and I get back to the hotel, and I want to raid the suite's minibar. I want to drown myself in vodka and gin. Anything will do, really. When she sees me heading that way, she wraps her hand around my wrist.

"No, Mads. No." I let her lead me to my bedroom, change me into pajamas, and wipe the makeup from my face. She braids my hair down my back, and tucks me into the crisp duvet. Then she sits with me, running her fingers down my arm until I fall asleep, both of us still crying.

In the middle of the night, my phone starts going crazy. Jenna. Mitch. Karen. My mother. Harry. I answer.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I'm fine," my voice is hoarse from crying and not drinking.

"Jesus, Maddie, no you're not. How could you be?" The line is silent, and I imagine him waiting for me to say something. Finally he does, "I wish I was there."

"Me too," my voice breaks, and I am crying again.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. I mean," I sniffle and wipe snot from my face with the back of my hand, "I'm a mess, but it was good."

"I wanted to punch that asshole," his voice is low and slow.

I laugh, a throaty, snot-filled laugh. "Me too."

"God, Maddie. I will kill anyone if they ever hurt you," his voice is raspy with emotion.

"Harry." I whisper his name. I want to say I love you. I love you. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Everything."

"You sound sleepy." I can hear his smile. I can fucking hear it.

"It's almost four am here."

"Go back to sleep. I'll see you tomorrow, beautiful."

I wake up two hours later, and my whole fucking face is swollen. I am not beautiful. I am a remnant of a person. And I am filled with regret. As Lou and I pack up, she has the local news running, and they replay the clip from last night over and over. I am a fucking headline. Fuck. This is going to be a disaster.
I look at my phone. I have a handful of texts from Harry, including a heart emoji. We're not at verbal I love yous, just graphic representations of them. I send him back every heart emoji there is, save the broken one. There are 54 missed calls and 33 voice mails. Most of them are from my mother. I listen to part of one. "What the hell were you thinking!" I delete it without listening further. I delete the other 25 from her. Of the seven remaining, one is from Jenna, telling me she's proud of me and that she loves and supports me. I wonder if she says all the right things because she plays a mom on tv, or if she would be this way with her own kids. If she had kids. There is a message from Sam also, just checking if I'm okay. Two from Mitch. He is concerned. Call him back. That's all.

The other three calls are from Karen, checking to see if I'm still going to do the talk show in LA. I call her back, even though it's not even four in the morning there. She answers right away.

"Are you okay?" Everyone is acting like I am a bomb about to go off.

"I'm fine."

"Have you seen the news?"

"Not really. I know they've been running the clip."

"It's bad."

"Why? What?" I'm distracted, packing up my stuff.

"People are saying you're just using this to boost ratings for the show." My mouth drops open. "Maddie, listen, no one will blame you if you cancel the show today."

I consider it. I know that she will want to ask about last night's interview. If I don't do it, I look weak. Like I am letting them get to me. Like that asshole host won some sort of victory over me. Fuck that. I'm angry all over again.

The LA host has been good to me over the years. Penny even guested on 'Turning Pages' a couple of times, back in the early days. "I'll do it."

"Are you sure?"

"I said I would do it," I snap.

"All right." I can hear her sigh before she hangs up. I know Karen well enough to know she is pacing around her office, or house, or wherever the fuck she is at four in the morning, shaking her head and wishing I wasn't her client.

Lou and I have to wade through a sea of photographers as we exit the hotel. They shout questions at me, but Lou murmurs in my ear not to listen. I hold her hand as we ride to the airport. We have never shared affection, but she has been with me since the start, watched me grow up. Helped transform me from the super nerd I was into the slightly less nerdy nerd I still am. I love her. "I love you," I tell her, tears slipping down my face again. I'm not used to saying what's on my mind, whenever it happens to pop up. It's foreign and uncomfortable, and I feel so fucking vulnerable.

"I love you too, Mads." I breathe a little easier.

"Thanks for last night. For stopping me." I can't stop my stupid eyes from leaking.

She squeezes my hand, and we ride the rest of the way in silence. I sleep on the plane, with an icy gel pack over my eyes to bring down the swelling. And when we land in LA, I almost look like myself. We can see a pack of paparazzi outside, just waiting for us to come out. But Mitch already called ahead and made arrangements. Lou says she'll get our bags, and wanders away. My phone rings as soon as I turn it on. My mother. Ignore. It rings again. Harry. I smile and slide the screen open.

"Hi."

"Hi, where are you?"

"Just walking through the baggage claim." I can hear cars honking through the line. "Where are you?" And then I see him. He is just outside, between the building and the line of photographers, wearing torn blue jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and a look of absolute concern. "Look up," I say, hanging up.

He pushes through the door and wraps his arms around me. We stand there, locked tight, for several minutes. Finally he releases me and rests his forehead on mine, his hands on either side of my face, gazing into my eyes. "Maddie." My name comes out a whisper, a prayer.

I whisper too, "Don't you have class today?"

"It doesn't matter. You matter." His fingers are caressing my face and hair gently.

"Well, hello," Lou's voice interrupts our moment. "I'm Louise," she sticks her hand out to Harry.

"Lou, this is my boyfriend, Harry," I say, blushing. "Harry, my friend Lou, the hair and makeup tech for the show."

"Nice to meet you," he says, smiling broadly.

"Ms. Turner," a porter says, "we're ready to take you to the VIP lot." He takes us through a series of passages controlled by swiped key cards, and finally out into the guarded lot.

Harry loads my bags into my car, and I hug Lou. "I'll see you in Burbank."

"Burbank? Now?" Harry asks as I hand him the keys and walk around to the passenger side, nodding. "Don't you want to go home?"

"I have another show today."

I program the address into the car's navigation and we drive over, arriving twenty minutes late, thanks to miserable traffic and another cluster of vultures. The producer assures me they have delayed the taping to accommodate me, and tells me to relax. That I have time. I sit curled by Harry on the couch in the green room. He has one arm around my back, and the other resting across my knees, as if he is trying to shield me. I rest my head against his shoulder. He asks about what happened when they cut away to commercial. I tell him. I tell him how I didn't let the guy off the hook, and how the crowd cheered for me.

"You're so strong," he kisses my hair.

I shake my head. "I don't feel strong," my voice is weak, and I clench my fists into his t-shirt, to show him I would be in pieces if he weren't there.

"That's what makes you strong. That you keep on, even when you feel like you can't."

I sit back and stare into his wise green eyes. And then he is kissing me. His lips soft and gentle, each brush a question. Is this ok? Are you ok? It is. I am.

We are interrupted by the host, Penny, who says she just wanted to stop in and say hi before the taping, ask if was doing all right. Her blue eyes gleam at us, and I nod, blushing. "Can I ask about last night?"

"Yeah."

"The show, your family, school?"

"You can ask me anything. I trust you. And if I don't want to answer something, I'll tell you."

"Okay," she pats my leg. "I'll see you out there in a bit."

Lou and I decide to leave my face mostly natural. She adds a bit of eyeliner to my top lids to make the remaining swelling less apparent. And lip color. But I insist that she not spray foundation on. I just want to be me.

When Penny announces me, I walk out into the silent studio. I am momentarily disconcerted by the lack of music. This show is very upbeat and laid back, and they always play dance music when the guests come out. Today there is nothing, and I feel exposed. I get my feet to move again, and she meets me halfway, folding me in a genuine hug. I fold my legs under me and sit on them in the cushiony red arm chair.
She smiles at me. "So, you've had quite a night."

I chuckle, and probably grimace. "To say the least."

"You spoke publicly about your brother's suicide for the first time last night. Why now?"

I shrug, "Years of therapy finally kicking in." I laugh. They laugh. Real laughs. "Really, I was just angry that he was trying to embarrass me as some sort of diva. The orange thing, it's tragedy, not caprice. I wasn't going to let him do that."

"Can I show the clip for folks who haven't seen it?" She gestures at a screen behind us.

"Is there anyone who hasn't seen it?" I look out at the crowd. My eyes find Harry and Lou standing behind a camera, out of shot. I shake my head, resigned. "Go ahead."

We watch the juicy parts of the interview. I can feel my whole body tensing as I watch. Penny reaches over and takes my hand in hers.

"What were you thinking when this was happening?"

"Ahh. That can't be repeated on national television." More laughs. They are on my side.

"And now, watching it back. It affected you. What were you thinking?"

"That I'm really glad I maintained my composure. I'm proud of myself for not losing it. And for not letting him treat me like garbage."

She is beaming at me, squeezing my hand, nodding emphatically. "Yes. I overheard your friend talking to you in the green room. Is it okay if I share?" I gesture for her to carry on, glancing at Harry. She quotes him pretty accurately. I start to cry a little. "I thought that was really beautiful. And so true. Do you think you're strong?"

"I do now," I nod firmly.

"Back with more from Maddie Turner in a moment. Don't go away." She mutters how well I'm doing.

I breathe. I drink. I look out at the audience, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. "Please, can you put some music on?" I ask. Penny waves at the DJ, and he plays uptempo music that calms me. The warm-up guy gets the crowd cheering and laughing, and the whole mood in the studio has shifted.

"We're back with Maddie Turner. Maddie, you've said since May that this upcoming season would be your last. Your final season premieres tonight--"

Years of training take over, and I am pitching the show. "That's right, tonight at 9, right here on this network."

"Let's watch a clip." We watch a scene, a different one than has been shown during the other interviews. Mitch must have sent a new reel for them after last night. This clip has no laughs. It is an emotional moment between me and Jenna. "I know you've had to answer this question a lot. But, why are you leaving?"

I take a deep breath. How do I start? "I have to say first, how much this show has meant to me." Fuck. I'm crying. Get it together. I breathe slowly. "How much the people involved with the show have meant to me. They are truly my family. And I love them all so much. They've been there through the most difficult times in my life." Tears are pooling in my eyes again, and I wipe them away. The host waits, holding my hand again. "I've spent my whole life pretending to be this version of me," I gesture to the screen, "and it's made it very difficult for me to figure out who the real me is."

I glance out at the crowd. Lou is crying again. So are many of the members of the audience.

"And, god this is hard to talk about." I wipe my eyes again. "Every single corner of that set reminds me of my brother. Of losing him. I can't be there anymore. I need to move on so I can start to heal."

"Wow," is all she says.

I laugh, wiping my eyes with tissue that has magically appeared between us. "I don't speak this frankly with anyone but my therapist," I raise my eyebrows at her as if she should feel lucky.

"That'll be two hundred dollars," she holds out her hand as the crowd laughs. I laugh. "And I'm afraid our time is up." Penny makes as if she is going to stand and then waves her hand and shakes her head.

My shoulders are shaking from so much laughter.

"So let me ask about your mom." The audience gasps. "How's she?"

I find this so funny. "She's pretty pissed at me right now. I had about fifty voicemails from her this morning."

"Do you still talk to her pretty often?" She sounds surprised. The world knows we haven't always gotten along, to put it mildly. "Like, every day?"

"No, not every day."

"How often," she presses. "Every couple of days, weeks, months, years?" The audience laughs nervously. They're not sure it's funny that I don't have a good relationship with my mother.

"Every couple of days or weeks, depending on what she's saying to me." I roll my eyes, but I can tell the audience likes to know that no matter how broken my relationship with her is, we are still in each other's lives.

"And how's school? You're at the university studying film. Do you like being behind the camera."

I babble about school for a couple of minutes, and then I hear myself saying something I haven't even fully formed into an idea yet. "I've been considering double majoring." This is what happens when I let myself go, and just be. The truth finds its way to the top.

"In what?"

"Music, maybe." The crowd is shocked. On the show, my character had a storyline where I tried to play the violin and sucked. Like, it sounded like a herd of dying sea lions. I see Harry grinning. "Or English. I love to read."

"Do you play an instrument?"

"Piano."

"How long have you played? And how come we've never seen this before?"

"I've played since I was maybe, two? But I haven't played in front of people until recently. I've never even played in front of my parents."

"Why?"

"I wanted it to stay mine, something that wasn't corrupted by all of this, showbiz." She is nodding like she gets it. Like she gets me.

"Maddie, I just want to say that whatever you're paying your therapist, you should double it." I am doubled over laughing. "Seriously, you have gone through absolute hell, things most of us can't imagine, and you've done it all in the spotlight. You've grown up before our eyes into a lovely, composed young woman."
Dammit. I'm crying again. We hug, and they cut, and even though it felt like the interview was hours long, it was really only twenty minutes.

I wait until we're back in the green room to press my lips to Harry's. He breaks the kiss before I'm ready and pulls me into a tight hug. Well. Okay, I guess this is nice too. Lou pats my arm and waves goodbye. I wave my hand, but I don't pull away from Harry.

He says into my hair, "please tell me you don't have another one of these to do."

"I don't," I say into his shoulder.

"Let's get you home," he pulls away and laces his fingers with mine. We break contact only to get into the car, and as soon as we're both strapped in and we've merged onto the slow-crawling freeway, he puts his hand in mine again.

"Thanks for coming to get me," I say quietly after awhile.

He glances quickly at me, as he pulls off at my exit. "I would've been there last night if I could've."
I smile. "I know."

We pull into my driveway and he gets my bags from the back. It's weird being back here. Like, I left a different person than the one opening the door now. In a good way. I feel...free.

"What do you feel like doing?"

"I really need to sleep." It's just past four in the afternoon, but I am exhausted. I kick off my shoes and leave them where they land.

"Oh, okay." He sounds so disappointed. "So, I guess call me when you wake up."

"Can you stay?"

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes." I've never wanted anything as much in my life. Stay with me here forever. Please.

He slides his arms around me in answer, running his fingers over my bare arms. "I hated seeing you so hurt."

"Mmmm." I might just fall asleep standing here, leaning against his chest.

"Come on, baby, let's get you into bed." He leads me back to my room. I wriggle out of my jeans and pull my bra off through my sleeve, leaving me in my shirt and panties. He watches me intently. I grab the hem of his shirt and pull it off, my hands skimming over the skin of his chest. His green eyes are poring into mine, making my pulse quicken. I might not be as tired as I thought. My fingers trail down over his muscled stomach to his jeans, pulling at the button. "I'll do it," he says, his voice thick and low. He slides his tight jeans down, pushing his vans off along with them. "Bed," he points.

I slide under the cool sheets and flip back the other side. He lays on his side, facing me, and stretches his tattooed left arm out across my pillow. I lay against his arm and wrap my arm over his waist, closing my eyes. He smooths my hair with his free hand, kissing the bridge of my nose, my eyelid, my cheek, my ear. I giggle. It tickles. He slides his thumb under my jaw and raises my face to him. My eyes are still closed as he presses his lips to mine. I open my mouth and wrap my lips around his, pulling at his lower lip. He groans and pushes against me. And I can feel him against my hip. I claw his back and hook my leg over his.

He rolls me onto my back, pressing his hips into me and leaning down to continue the kiss. His mouth moves slowly again, gently. His tattooed arm is propped on its elbow, and with the other, he grips my hair, holding my head in place. My arms are looped around his neck. He nudges my head to the side with his cheek and bites my neck gently. I squirm and giggle. He runs his nose up my neck to my ear, breathing out into it. His hand slides under my shirt and up my stomach. I can't breathe. I push my hands against his chest, eyes wide.

He raises himself off me, as if he is about to do push-ups in the bed. "Too much?" He is as breathless as me. I nod shyly. He shifts to his side again. "Wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied," he smirks at me.

"Okay, Romeo," I swat his arm weakly, and he catches it in his and pulls me closer.

"Sleep, beautiful." I curl up against him again. I don't know how long I lay there, just listening to his heart beat before I finally fall asleep.

When I wake later, I am disoriented. I am not sure if it's morning or night, and my room is lit by the blue glow of the tv on the wall. Harry is still beside me, and the end credits of 'Turning Pages' are running on the screen. "Why are you watching that," I groan, my face half-buried in the pillow.

He laughs and pets my hair. "I have never missed an episode."

"What?" Now I'm sitting up next to him. "I didn't know you watched the show." I feel suddenly shy.

"Just because I don't gush over it like Liam, doesn't mean I don't watch it. The whole world watches this show, Maddie." He kisses me gently, then regards me with amusement. "It was interesting to watch now that I know you. I can see you in her, just under the surface."

"I think you've always seen me, just under the surface."

He smiles that slow smile that made me fall. Like the slow accumulation of rain clouds in the sky, so slow you don't notice it until the rain is already falling on you. That's how he smiles. That's how I fall.

(A/N please vote and comment. Don't be a lurker like Maddie ;)