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Don’t forget to call me Cupcake{I note she’s added five little emojis – three cupcakes and two hearts}

Hold my hand, but stroke your thumb across my knuckles when you do. It looks really cute on camera.

The designer is insisting I wear these ridiculous heels so if there are any steps to climb, hang on to my elbow (or I may land on my ass).

And if you win tonight (which I know you will){another smiley face}remember to give me a big hug and a kiss before you go up to collect your award.

Oh and PS Good luck. To you … and to me. Don’t let me drink too much. I’m an awful drunk. Especially when I’m nervous.

I am kind of nervous. Especially as you haven’t responded to these messages. But I guess you’re busy so …

It’ll be fine though. We can do this. Go Us!!{More fist pump emojis}

My thumb hovers over the keypad but I’m no nearer to knowing what the hell to reply to that spew of nonsense words than I was five hours ago. Which is shitty. Because I look like I’m blanking her.

I force myself to type, wondering if she’ll be clamped under some hair drier and unable to read her messages.

You’ll be fine.

I contemplate adding an emoji of my own. But really? An emoji? I’m not a fifteen-year-old girl.

I leave it.

Two seconds later my phone beeps.

Two thumbs up emojis. The corner of my mouth twitches.

“Are you texting?” Ash asks from the bed.

“Yes,” I mutter, sliding my phone back into my pocket.

“Who?”

“Isabella.”

“Fuck, he is loved up,” Ash says. “You know she’s just down the corridor.”

Of course I know. I can smell her scent so vividly I’m sure I could predict exactly where she is in this mansion of a house.

“Yeah, but I can’t barge in on her when she’s getting ready.”

“You can. In fact, you should. Girls like you telling them how great they look. Layla’s always nervous as hell before one of these events and needs me to spend at least half an hour reassuring her how beautiful she is.”

“Layla is beautiful.”

“And so is Isabella. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go and tell her.”

“Really?” I ask. Does Ash actually have some useful advice for once?

“Absolutely.”

I peer at Trey and he nods his agreement.

I don’t exactly enjoy being told what to do, but for once I let it fly and follow that scent along the maze of corridors, stopping outside a door at the far side of the house.

I can hear the soft murmur of female voices within and one of our songs playing. It’s one of the ones I wrote. Years ago when I first moved over to LA. I was hyped, pumped and full of enthusiasm. I look back at that boy now and wonder where the hell all that went. How I ended up so cynical and jaded.

I brush my fingers along that damn crease on my shirt front and then, with an inhale that has the mating gland on the back of my neck buzzing, I knock on the door.