The Tour Diaries 《》 N.H.

---

November 2013
This Is Probably a Love Story, Maybe

---

NOTES APP — 3:12 AM
I don’t know what we are.
I think he thinks he does.

---

Her Apartment, New York

When the Take Me Home tour ends, he shows up at my place.

Uninvited.

Stays.

Invites himself to move in.

“I don’t like my flat in London anyway,” he says, tossing his bag onto my floor like it belongs there. “Thinking about getting a house in LA.”

I just blink at him. “You do that, buddy.”

He grins. “I will.”

And then he cleans.

Like, everything.

Which is fine, because my apartment was kind of a mess, but still.

---

A Few After-Parties Later

He keeps kissing my cheek in front of everyone.

Keeps getting me drinks.

Like it’s normal.

Like we’re normal.

Like this whole thing is just some foregone conclusion I forgot to agree to.

So, one night, I ask.

“Are we dating?”

He blinks. “We are, aren’t we?”

I stare at him. “I didn’t think so.”

He tilts his head. “Do you want to?”

I open my mouth. Close it. “I don’t know.”

He watches me. “Why not?”

“You’ve never told me you love me.”

He exhales, something like a laugh, like he thinks this is funny. “You know I do.”

But he doesn’t say it.

And I don’t know if I do.

So I just nod, standing up. “I’m getting a drink.”

And I sleep on my own couch.

---

The Next Morning

I wake up, groggy and uncomfortable, and he’s there.

Sitting on the floor next to me.

Watching.

Waiting.

Like he knew I wouldn’t be ready to be alone.

And for once, I don’t say anything.

I just let him be there.

NOTES APP — 4:02 AM
I don’t know if I believe him.
I don’t know if I want to.

Her Apartment, New York — The Morning After
I wake up to the smell of coffee.

The ache in my neck reminds me I slept on the couch.

The ache in my chest reminds me why.

I roll onto my side and—

There he is.

Sitting on the floor next to me.

Back against the couch, knees pulled up, fingers wrapped around a coffee cup that probably isn’t even his.