It took them two weeks to call me back; the fucking slowest two weeks of my life. The two weeks that I never ever want to remember, because all I did was sit around the house and think, stare at the ceiling, stare at the telly but not pay attention to what was going on. I lost interest in books, movies, even porn.

An eighteen year old boy lost interest in porn because he was waiting to find out if he was going to be in a boy band or not.

And then I would think to myself, whilst stood in the shower not bothering to actually pick up the soap, what if we didn't do well? What if our album flopped? What if I made it into the band but we were shit?

I thought of Oliver's sharp jaw line, his crooked smile, his lowered eyes. If I made it into the band with him, we would make it, without a doubt. He'd be the eye candy, and I would be the talent.

Can the talent fuck the eye candy?

Every time my phone rang, I answered within seconds. School was over, I hadn't even bothered applying for a college or sixth form because who the fuck cares about education when Universal Music had said they'd call you back (hopefully)? My parents were furious, I was losing my mind.

"Hello?" I'd told my friends to stop calling, and to only text, so that I wouldn't be disappointed every time I saw their names light up on my screen. But this time, it was a number I didn't register, the number to beat all other numbers.

"Can I speak to Mr Connors, please?"

"Yeah, that's me. Is this Universal Music? Because I'm really only taking calls from them right now. I'll actually be really fucking pissed off if this isn't Universal Music."

Silence. "Umm...actually, this is UniversalMusic."

-

I arrived at Universal Music alone, my dad in the car park with a book, and my heart in my throat. We weren't supposed to go to the same place like last time, unused office space with bland corridors and that hideous carpet.

No, this was fucking Universal Music, with metallic walls covered in Platinum albums and ghosts of famous musicians wandering the halls. We were interviewed separately, and I hadn't even had a chance to meet the boys who I'd be spending the rest of my career with. I was shaking, and obviously so. We were going to be big, I was going to be big.

I sat across from our new manager and two other big wigs. The table was long and shiny and I could barely see them, they were so fucking far away. The manager, Mitch Simmons, sat with hands in his lap and round glasses perched on his nose like he thought he was in Oasis. His mouth was constantly turned down, and it didn't look like he was smiling even when he was.

"It's great to have you onboard, Scott. Really, your original song is exactly what we're looking for."

I nodded, my tongue as heavy as lead. I breathed in, letting my whole chest inflate.

"But, before we can continue, we just need to ask...I mean, we don't want you to feel like our decision can change at any point, but we want this to be a smooth career, for everyone involved. We don't want any surprises; anything that the press can get a hold of about you, shit like that, we don't need it. So, Scott, is there anything about you, your life, your family, that might damage your career with us at any point?"

The room was closed off to any passing eyes, except one immaculate window that sat to our side, where two of my new band mates stood. One of them I hadn't seen at auditions, but the other was the boy with the ponytail. He still had it up, still had his bright, ironed shirt on like he was at a job interview. I guess he was.

And then Oliver walked in to view, his arms folded and began chatting with the ponytail boy. He looked so relaxed, so sure of himself in his skin. I hadn't seen him for two weeks and it had felt like eternity; I didn't know someone could feel like this in such a short time. I thought feelings like this grew and grew in you until you burst.

But in that moment, he saw me looking at him through the window, and smiled at me, and I burst.

I looked back to Mitch, who was leaning back, while the other people who I hadn't bothered to remember the names of, leaned forward, pens at the ready. I smiled, and shook my head.

"Nope, nothing."