Forget All You Know

Lila's P.O.V.

I'm guessing that you probably want to hear about the second part of my not-so-amazing love life, right? Alright, I'll let you in on it, but I'm warning you now, it's not happy. In fact, some parts of it are just downright depressing. It's not a story filled with shy glances and romantic kisses. No, it's a story filled with sorrow, anger, and most of all, regret.

Anyways, I should probably get started, right? Where was it that I left off...? Right, I left Tom and took the job in New York. It's kind of a huge part of the plot to this story, so I suggest you keep it in mind. Well, I left Tom, obviously, and headed on the first flight out to New York. Part of me was happy to be going back to the States, but another part was just miserable. Mainly because I had just left the love of my life, but partially because of the fact that it felt like I was leaving home. But, I just convinced myself that it would all be better once I started working at my oh-so-glorious new job.

False.

I quickly learned that my new job was nothing like I thought it would be. Instead of being viewed as a respectable fashion designer, I was viewed as the new girl who got coffee for everyone. Yeah, they didn't even bother to have me do what I was hired and trained to do. Nope, God forbid I actually design clothes. My boss, Sheila, just had me buy her coffee and do all of the pointless jobs that she didn't feel like doing.

Speaking of Sheila, what a bitch. She was a tall, anorexic woman with dark hair and eyes who despised everyone and everything. Of course, there were the few that were able to get on her good side. I, unfortunately, was not one of the chosen ones, hence why I was making coffee and not designing clothes. It just irked me that I slaved away at Pratt for four years, then a crappy internship for two, just to make coffee. I worked my ass off for six years just to end up making coffee. Six years of my life wasted.

Although, despite my job being a living hell for the past five months, there were some advantages to me taking the job. I mean, first off, I was living in New York City. That's pretty damn amazing, if I do say so myself. Secondly, I had been able to make a couple of good friends. They couldn't even compare to my friends back in London, but I didn't think that anyone could.

I still kept in contact with everyone back in England. I spoke with Jazzie and Kate almost daily and the McFly boys checked in every couple of weeks. Well, all of them but Tom, that is. I hadn't heard a word from him since I walked out the door five months ago. I couldn't really blame him, though. I threw everything away and I've regretted it ever since.

I'm about to tell you that I'm an idiot. So, here it goes. I'm an idiot. There, I said it. I'm just a full-blown idiot, who doesn't know when someone is manipulating her. Yup, I figured it out that Austin was lying to me. Well, I didn't figure it out. Jazzie told me that little detail after I broke up with Tom and moved to New York. It was the only time that we talked about him. She said that he was a wreck. He never went out and he barely slept or ate (something that was very rare for Tom). I changed the conversation very quickly, because I didn't want her picking up on the fact that I was just as miserable as Tom was.

I didn't want to talk about him, because I didn't want to think about him. I didn't want to be constantly reminded of how much I missed him. I didn't need to be reminded of how much I still loved him. It had been five months since I spoke to him, and I still loved him more than ever. I would always cry myself to sleep, thinking about all of the great memories that I still had with him. I tried to block them out and move on with my life, but those memories of Rome, late-night ice skating, and Star Wars chats always kept sneaking back.

I tried to hide my sporadically occurring tears, but Sam - my flamboyantly gay roommate/co-worker - caught on pretty quickly. Every time he asked what was wrong, I would just say that I was homesick and to leave it alone, but he kept asking anyways. I hated that. If someone says that they're fine, they clearly don't want to talk about whatever is bothering them. So, why can't people just drop it? Why do they always have to keep pestering me about what's wrong? It just irks me, is all.

Alright, I should probably get on with this story now, shouldn't I? Well, I guess everything really took off when I first saw Tom after five months. I know what you're thinking, and don't get your hopes up. He didn't come to New York at the last minute and sweep me off my feet in the most romantic way possible. Nope, that stuff never happens to me. If you wanna know the real story, Sam was watching TV and McFly just so happened to be on.

"Lielz, look!" Sam said excitedly while he pointed toward the television dramatically as I scurried into the room. My face fell when I saw the all too familiar faces attempting to act. Seeing them just made too many memories flood back into my mind and I think Sam picked up on the fact that tears were threatening to fall from my eyes.

"Why'd you want me to see this?" I asked as I looked away, trying to hide my tears.

"They're your people!" he said with a terrible British accent. "And look at how hot they are! They're so hot I bet the ground they walk on turns to ashes. Do you think I've got a chance?"

"Don't get your hopes up, honey," I said with a soft smile. "They're all straight as a board and taken."

"Dammit," he muttered as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Wait, how would you know that?"

No, I did not tell Sam anything about McFly. I figured that I would keep that part of my life a secret. I just didn't want him to start lecturing me on how I need to get back together with my famous rockstar ex-boyfriend. Because, that's all that Tom would ever be in Sam's eyes. He didn't know about the completely hidden side of Tom that only the people that knew him saw. Anyways, I was sure that Tom was doing fine without me. If he wanted to get back together with me, I would've known. I mean, I'm sure Jazzie would've told me by now.

"Just a hunch," I said with a hidden smile. "Plus, they're, like, the biggest band in the UK."

"Then why the hell am I watching them in a Lindsay Lohan movie?" he asked as I shrugged. "Speaking of the Brits, one of them called today. I think his name was Don or something. You should probably call him back, sweetie."

"I don't know anyone named Don," I said, thinking that he must have mixed up the names. My guess was that it was probably Dougie or Danny, right? They're names start with "D", so that's a possibility.

"He certainly knows you," Sam said as his eyebrows raised up on his forehead. "He said he misses you like hell."

"Oh, then you're probably thinking of Danny," I said, knowing that Dougie would not call just to say that he missed me.

"Maybe, I could've sworn it was Don, though," he said with a shrug. "I really think you should call him, though. There's obviously some stuff that you two need to talk about."

Truth was, though, I didn't want to talk. I wanted to keep everything that I was feeling bottled inside. I knew that if I spoke to Danny, he would just bring up the topic of Tom, like he always did. And I didn't want to talk about Tom, because I didn't want to admit to myself that it was really over. While I was in New York, I would continuously lie to myself and say that we weren't over. I tried to convince myself that it was just a break and Tom would come knocking at my door any minute to whisk me away. I knew that if I talked about Tom, I would realize that that would never happen. I would realize that I was truly nothing more than a memory to him.