Fishing For A Dream [Book Three]

Chapter 21 - Don't Go Away

Trigger warning: I usually don't like to add these because I feel like it can ruin the story, but there is some language and terminology that may upset and offend.

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I spent the majority of the flight home alternating between crying into my lap and sleeping. Soaking the sleeve of my hoodie with tears, I turned away to face the window and hoped that nobody would notice me. I couldn't eat, I only drank water to keep myself hydrated from crying most of the liquid out of my body, and I couldn't focus on anything but the melancholy songs I was stupidly listening to - less 'Crying in the Rain' and more 'Crying on a Plane'.

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Other than my moment of panic at Harry's show, everything had been so perfect; I was getting along with his friends, he and I were having a wonderful time playing house and doing things together like a normal couple, and we'd even had a lovely moment with some of his fans who had been very sweet to me when I offered to take their photos with Harry because their hands were shaking. I'd been so worried that maybe I would feel out of place in his daily life outside of our safety net of London, but actually, it had been wonderful.

But then, the day before I was due to leave, it had all gone horribly wrong.

It had all started after Jeff and I had had a quick chat about mine and Layla-Rose Events' social media accounts. I'd pretty much avoided any social media since arriving in L.A., and unless someone contacted me directly, and I was close to them, I hadn't been responding. But while my own personal account was already private, it wasn't feasible to do the same with the company accounts. Jeff had just suggested that damage control was part common sense and part speed; change our passwords regularly, don't use one that was stupid like ' Password123', block certain words, and be quick to delete any that slipped through. If the worst came to the worst, we'd have to disable comments, but at least then we would still be able to post about our clients and their events.

I was supposed to be packing while Harry was working out, but instead - and like a fucking idiot - I decided to procrastinate and open the Pandora's box that was Instagram. My personal account had mostly been swamped with follow and message requests from strangers, and there was the odd nosy friend or acquaintance who was trying their luck at fishing for some details - that I could cope with, but when I switched to the business account, I wished I'd stuck to dealing with my luggage.

I scrolled through the comments on the latest post, and read the words mostly loaded with hate, feeling my stomach drop. Rose told me everything was under control and that there wasn't anything too worrying that couldn't wait until I got back, but she'd lied. I could see from gaps and timestamps that comments had been deleted, but the volume of people spewing vitriol under our posts was obviously too much for Gabby - our lone social media manager - to handle alone. Unless Vicky or Rose were deleting anything after office hours closed, there wasn't anybody to deal with it once 6 o'clock rolled around.