Chapter 6 - Distance In-Between Us

*JOSH'S POV*

"Are you going to eat that?"

Jenna poked her fork playfully into my food and snagged a mouthful of the green curry. I smiled impassively, not paying attention.

"Ew. You've let it go cold," She pretended to be disgusted, trying to make me laugh. I remained silent. "What's wrong, Joshie? You love Thai."

I couldn't find the right words to tell Jenna how I was feeling. It had been almost two weeks since Hayley and I had seen each other. Was it ludicrous to be dejected because she hadn't called me again? Yes, you moron. She's probably just busy. Their new album is coming out tomorrow, isn't it? She hasn't got time for you.

"And this is your favourite restaurant. So cheer up."

Jenna's voice snapped me back into the present. We were at a Thai curry-house in west Nashville, not too far from where we lived. It was expensive, but I liked to take us here every so often for a treat. I would usually be enjoying myself, but I wasn't today.

There were lots of other couples seated around us, laughing and sharing food. The room was dimly lit with candles; the walls were hung with Thai tapestries and the place had a warm atmosphere to match the temperature. Jenna had dressed up, appropriately doing her hair up in a bun impaled with two chopsticks. She wasn't wearing makeup, but she didn't need to. She was beautiful. You have a beautiful wife. So why aren't you happy?

Because it's not Jenna I want to see right now.

Jenna leaned across the table and pressed her lips softly against mine. I endured it for several seconds - just long enough for her not to be offended by my lack of reciprocation - and pulled away.

*HAYLEY'S POV*

The day dawned bright and crisp; I awoke to the sound of birdsong outside the open window of my hotel bedroom. It was toasty inside the cocoon of the duvet I was encased in, although my exposed shoulders were chilly with the early morning air. I sat up, feeling groggy, and recalled the date.

April 5th. Paramore had been released seven hours ago across the entirety of the United States of America.

I climbed lazily out of bed (catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror - my hair resembled a fiery haystack) and picked up my phone from the dresser. Opening up Twitter, I noticed I had around a thousand notifications - which was even more than usual - and the app closed itself several times before it decided to cooperate. Wow. The fans blew up my Twitter. This either means they really love the album... or they really hate it.

I scrolled through my feed, reading the Tweets quickly. Many of them concerned Zac Farro, with the fans who had been around a little longer expressing their sadness for the former-bandmate's death. Thinking about Zac still put a lump in my throat. Despite our less-than-amicable split, we had once more become good friends with Zac, and Jeremy, Taylor and I had felt it was appropriate to put a post on paramore.net (our official website) to acknowledge Zac's passing and put our condolences across. Zac had been my favourite drummer - and one of my favourite people - ever since I was thirteen years old, and it was really going to suck not being able to see him anymore.

However, most of the Tweets regarded the new album, the reception to which seemed to be overwhelmingly positive: people remarking on the fresh sound; the wide range of genres we'd pursued; the way we had tried something new and exciting and, apparently, created some mighty fine songs in the process. Of course, there was the occasional disgruntled comment that Paramore wasn't the same band we used to be, or that they wanted the 'Old Paramore' back, but I didn't bother responding to them.

There was no 'Old Paramore' - nor was there a 'New Paramore'; there was just us. We were growing and changing, like normal people did. Obviously, we'd had our fair share of drama, but we were over that now. We were exploring new places - our new album had it all: throwbacks, pop hits, ukulele interludes and country jams - and we felt more liberated and free to do what we wanted than ever before. Evidently that had had an impact on our music, but we still retained our signature sound; we were still doing what we always had in that we wrote about our own experiences. How boring would it be if we just conformed to people's nostalgia?

More than anything, I felt relieved that the album we had been working on for over a year was finally out there for our fans and that, so far, the majority of them seemed to be enjoying it. There was nothing more rewarding than that.

That thought put me in a particularly good mood, and I wafted around the hotel suite singing as I got ready for a day of interviews. I yanked on a grey patterned dress, thinking about how many dresses I had been weary recently (being girly wasn't like me at all), over a pair of black melting tights. I would change into my scrappier stage-clothes for the gig later in the evening.

I looked at briefly at the tattoo on my thigh - a hand holding an envelope, symbolising relationships with loved ones while on the road. I'd got the inking done while on tour in Australia in February. It was one of my largest ones, done in a traditional style and decorated with leaves and ribbons. It made me think of Chad. I missed him. I'll see him soon. Once we get home, after I've visited Mom, I'll fly over to California and visit him.

We were in London to play show at The Garage as publicity for Paramore, and yesterday we had recorded a performance for The Graham Norton Show (a popular chat show here) which would be aired tonight. We had done a concert in Paris four days ago, having flown over to Europe last week, and would be returning home tomorrow before the next leg of our tour in North America.

With all this travelling, I had had little opportunity to contact Josh Farro again after our meeting in late March. To be honest, I didn't know what else I would say to him. We had made our apologies and had agreed to turn a new leaf, but would we be able to carry on like nothing had happened? I didn't know. I did know that, for some bizarre reason, I missed him too. I haven't seen or thought about him in years, and after seeing him one time, I suddenly miss him? I'm being absurd. I bet he doesn't feel this way about me.

"But God does it feel so good, 'cause I got him where I want him now. And if you could then you know you would, 'cause God it just feels so... It just feels so good!"

The last guitar note quivered in the air and Ilan Rubin, our touring drummer, hit the cymbals as Misery Business, the last song in our set list, came to a close. The crowd erupted into cheers, some breaking into a chant of: 'Paramore! Paramore! Paramore!". The girl we had chosen to sing with me shot us a grin, which I returned, and was helped down off the stage by security. Wiping the moisture from my forehead, I could see hundreds of camera phones in the air, illuminating the tiny club. It was a comparatively small venue - tickets had sold out in minutes - but it was packed to the gunnels.

"Thank you, London - we'll be back soon! Goodnight!" I shouted into the microphone, and was rewarded by another round of roaring and applause.

Taylor high-fived me as we made our way backstage, and I gave Jeremy a friendly punch in the arm. They stashed their instruments in the rack and we entered our dressing room. I was on high, adrenaline rushing around my body, as it always did once we had successfully finished a show.

"That was so much fun. They were insane," Jeremy smiled, pulling up a chair.

Hot and sweaty from the performance, I could feel my makeup running down my face. I fanned myself, wondering how much of a mess I looked (and then deciding I didn't really care), and reached into the mini-freezer in the corner. I brought out some Neapolitan Ricecream (a healthier alternative to regular ice cream, with added rice and less sugar, that Jeremy always made fun of me eating). Taylor and I sat down, and the huge spoonful of ice cream I had swallowed to cool myself down gave me a brain freeze.

"Did you hear them shouting: 'Paramore! Paramore!' in their British accents?" Taylor laughed.

"I love London. Everyone is so welcoming."

"I'll be glad to get back home though. I miss Kat. And Cowboy." Cowboy was Jeremy's terrier. Kat, who was British, had moved out to America to live with Jeremy after their wedding in 2011 and looked after Cowboy while he was away.

I sighed. I also found touring tough sometimes - though not nearly as hard as I used to - even though it was exhilarating to be on stage and it was the best feeling to connect with fans across the world. I wanted to be with Chad. I wanted to feel the strength of his arms around me; to see his warm smile; to hear his deep voice. It was hard to know there was a whole ocean between us right now.

And yet, though I tried to deny it, I also wanted to see Josh Farro again.

It's really hard,I can't cry in your arms'Cause you're not hereIt's not your faultAnd if it was I wouldn't care

My heart is biggerThan the distanceIn-between usI know it 'cause IFeel it beating

So strong it'll knock you down