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“Bryn, a few hook-ups a year isn't a relationship. I need more.”
“I offered you more! I wanted to give you everything!” Her eyes widen at the force of my tone and I lower my voice. “Don't do this.”
Sitting beside me, Hannah takes my hand and curls her slender fingers around mine. “We can't rewind; we were fooling ourselves.”
“For two years?”
“I'm sorry,” she whispers.
I'm ripped back to the day she told me she was moving to Australia, her dad taking a job in Sydney and uprooting my sixteen-year-old, first and only love. For a couple of months, we were in constant contact and then she stopped. I tried to find out why and although I gave up, my heart never did.
When fame and money hit, I was sure Hannah would want me back but I couldn't trace her. Turns out her dad left the family and her mum returned to her maiden name. They moved states to Western Australia. I could've stalked Hannah harder, but didn't think that’d help. Not a single other person knows about us—I could never ask someone to track her down and reveal everything.
Out of the blue two years ago, Hannah contacted me. She'd read a magazine article where questions were asked about the lack of girls in my life, hinting I'm gay. Again. The guys find this hilarious because they saw me with plenty of girls in the early days. I usually refuse to confirm or deny because what the hell does my sexuality matter? This time I gave the interviewer a cryptic answer about the girl I loved and lost – the one I'm waiting for. Hannah asked if the girl was her and when I said 'yes', the secret life and hidden hopes began.
“But we're meant to be,” I say. “Me and you. Forever and always.”
“Please, Bryn, don't make this harder. I really didn't think I mean so much to you. I rarely hear from you between visits.”
“Because you tell me not to get in touch! I'd call you every day—take you home with me. Fuck.” I grip my head and lean forward. So fucking stupid. What have I been doing?
Hannah perches on the bed and I cross to join her, sinking into the sheets we should be under together.
Our history counts for more than this. “I don't understand, Hannah.”
“This hasn't been easy, Bryn.” She curls next to me, the scent of coconut in her hair new and unfamiliar. “I spent years sure we were meant to be, but our lives are too different. I want to live in Australia, have a family, and marry someone who'll be around.”
“I'll be around! I'll move to Australia. I told you that too!”
“You tour, split yourself amongst different countries and people.”
“I'll stop!”
With a small smile, Hannah shakes her head. “No. Blue Phoenix is who you are. Don't you remember how much you'd talk about your music, when you met the boys? I think we’d already drifted a little then.”
“I always promised I'd take you with me. You're my forever girl.”
Hannah's eyes glisten with tears, and I pull back on shouting my anger. She's hurting at her decision, confusion in her eyes, and I don't want to make this worse. But I can't cope with the feeling of betrayal, the false hope she gave me.
“Whatever happens, you'll always be her,” I say and hold her fiercely, aware that when I let go and we walk away, I wake up from my dreams of a forever with Hannah.
Then try to move on. Again.
“I can't be her, Bryn,” she says, voice muffled against my chest. “I tried.”
So did I, but not hard enough.
