It’s late spring and Galen is practicing with his friends in the TV room, or ‘Band Room’ as he refers to it when they come over.

I don't know the other boys. He's never bothered to introduce me to them.

Galen sits on his favourite stool playing his guitar while another boy with scruffy hair bangs with minimal talent on the drums, and another plays a small keyboard.

Compared to his friends, he sounds like a star.

His fingers are nimble on the strings, and his voice when he sings is deep, clear and soulful.

When I watch him play, I feel good.

When I listen to him sing, I don't feel like Fflur. I feel like I'm floating along in the stratosphere with him.

Galen is going to be a star.

But I'll still be a flower pushing my way through the cracks in the pavement.

He spots me watching them from the doorway, and his singing never falters. He smiles at me. It's a smile with no cockiness just happiness. The song they are performing isn't one I'm familiar with, but I know I'll be humming it by the morning.

When the song finishes, I stand there and clap.

He lifts his head and grins at me, and I can imagine him centre stage finishing that song and grinning down at the thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of girls who will believe that smile is just for them.

"What are you smiling for? Were we that good?" he asks as he lifts his guitar, leans it against the stool and walks towards me.

I didn't even realise I was smiling.

I hold my hand out to stop him from coming any closer. He's feeling cockier in front of his friends.

"Come on, Fflur. You can tell us."

I push against his chest, and he stumbles back.

"If you don't admit how awesome we were, I'll play dirty," he threatens with a glint of mischief in his lawn green eyes, and his fingers wiggle wildy.

"You were okay, but I think you already know that."

"Okay, is not good enough. How good are we?"

"I've just told you you're good. What more do you want?"

The fingers that just swept along those strings to create magic, now wiggle and tickle under my armpits.

"Stop," I giggle.

"Not until you tell us."

I shake my head, but can't help but laugh. I look from Galen to his friends, and in the corniest accent I can muster, say, "Boys you were fabulous, dahlings."

The one behind the drums snorts and says, "Gal, I think she's taking the piss."

The other says nothing.

"Galen's mouth is right by my ear when he says, "I agree, and she's going to pay for it."

Within seconds I'm on the floor, and he's tickling me without mercy, and both his friends are egging him on.

Between gasping breaths and full-blown giggles, my traitorous heart whispers 'Keep touching me. Please keep touching me.'

I get the hiccups, and Galen stops tickling me. He stares down at me solemnly. His emerald green eyes delve into my soul. Perfect lawn green to bright blue. Like the mountains touching a cloudless sky.

Galen to Fflur.

Awareness flashes over me. I'm conscious of everything.

The way he's straddling me. The warmth of his hands on my skin. The blood rushing through my body and pooling low in my belly. The tentative ache between my thighs.

My breath hitches between hiccups and Galen stands abruptly, removing his touch and warmth.

I can't be too sure, as it's likely the blood whistling through my brain, but he looks just as affected as me.

To save face in front of his boys he smirks and demands, "Tell us, Fflur, tell us how good we are."

I swallow hard before another hiccup bursts free. My eyes lock with his, and I want to beg him to come closer. Instead, I do as he asks and say with all sincerity, "You're going to be a star." You. Not the band.

Footsteps come down the hall and moments later Rhys storms into the TV room.

"Galen, your father is downstairs in the kitchen drinking a bottle of whiskey."

"My dad doesn't drink whiskey."

"He is now." Rhys looks at me and adds, "And Mum's just locked herself in the bedroom."

"Do you know what's happened?" I ask.

Rhys shakes his head. "Mum was comforting Max about something, but he shook her off. She begged him, but he told her to leave him alone, and she ran to their room and locked the door."

Galen stands, and without looking at them tells his friends, "I need you to go."

They do so without saying a word.

That just leaves us. Three unlikely musketeers.

My mum and Max never argue, never so much as raise their voices at each other. This is unfamiliar territory for us.

Galen looks from Rhys to me before walking out without saying a word, but we hear him go down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Should I go and see Mum," I ask.

"I'd leave her. Stay out of it."

I nod in agreement, and we both go back to our separate rooms. I lie on my buttercup yellow bedspread and wonder what Galen is saying to his dad.

I try and stay awake, hoping to hear when Galen comes up to his room, but I fall asleep.

It's morning before I see him again. He exits his bedroom just as I'm leaving mine.

"Is your dad okay?" I ask.

"He said everything is fine, and there's nothing to worry about, but I know something is up. Did you talk to Mum?"

I shake my head.

"I'm sure everything's fine," he mumbles, his eyes on his feet.

"Yeah, nothing to worry about."

He keeps his head down, and we head off in our separate ways.