"After the break we'll be welcoming back a very dear friend of mine. See you in a minute!"

James Corden's beaming face is replaced with a Honda advert and I exhale shakily. I'm still in my pyjamas and myself, Addie, Jules and my parents are all squashed onto the sofas surrounding the television in our lounge.

Somehow this became a family affair. And that makes me nervous.

I haven't told my Dad the extent of what happened with Harry on the island but I'm assuming my mother will have done. If he does mention me...what is he going to say? Am I going to want my family to hear it?

Not that it matters given that it's on national television. Everyone watching is going to hear it.

"You ok, babe?" Jules looks over at me. She's clutching a mug of tea between her hands and I realise I'm not used to seeing her drinking anything other than an eccentric looking cocktail. I nod.

I wonder how Harry's feeling right now. In a few moments he's going to be stepping out and telling potentially all about the accident and the island and possibly...me. I barely want to leave the house let alone appear on television. Numerous journalists have contacted us since I arrived home, probably looking for some sort of romantic tragedy to publish but I'm just not interested. It's not their story to tell.

Beside me, Addie's hand plunges forward into the bowl resting on her knees. She's eating popcorn like this is some sort of cinema screening.

"Want some?" She asks, spotting my bemused expression. She tilts the bowl towards me but I shake my head.

"I can't think about eating right now." I mumble. "I can't think full stop."

The Honda advert bursts onto the television again and suddenly James Corden is sat back at his desk; a large Late Late Show card clutched between his hands. This is it.

"About a month ago, a young man who I have known since he was sixteen years old, boarded a flight heading for Malaysia. You will know it as missing Malaysian Airlines flight MH003. Tragically the plane crashed during the storm and four-hundred and eighty-eight of the passengers were killed. By some miracle, two passengers survived - this young man being one of them. He's here with us tonight, his first interview since that day. Can we all give an incredibly warm welcome to my wonderful friend - Harry Styles."

Addie's hands have stilled.

James Corden is tearing up.

The cameras pan round to the stairs where the doors burst open and I gasp.

His hair is shorter than I remember, tidier and more styled. I can still picture the wild waves attempting to make a bid for freedom the day the helicopter arrived. Looking at him now, it seems like a world away. There's still a light stubble over his jaw and if - like me - you know what you're looking for, you can still see the slight scar over his eyebrow. If it wasn't for the scar, I might think that being stranded never happened. He looks good.

He's dressed in a purple embroidered suit jacket with matching flared trousers and a black shirt. A far cry from his canary swimming trunks. I almost miss them. He hurries down the steps and into James' open arms before turning to the audience and blowing numerous kisses.

I've felt those kisses.

It's the strangest feeling; seeing him on television when only two weeks ago we were standing in front of one another, filthy and frightened. Before that we were swimming together, sleeping beside one another. Surviving together.

"I've said this a million times already, man, but it is so good to see you." James ushers Harry into a seat and then perches in the one next to him.

"It's so good to be here. I feel very lucky." He's rubbing the material of his trousers awkwardly. He actually looks sort of nervous.

"So you were stranded on a deserted island for what...about twenty days?" Harry's nodding with pursed lips. "And yet look at you. You look great. You really look great."

The audience are clapping and cheering and Harry's cheeks are pink. Addie still hasn't gone back in for more popcorn; her eyes are glued to the screen and bulging as if they might fall out their sockets.

"Well, thank you." Harry smiles. "It wasn't without effort, trust me."

Addie's hand curls around mine and I squeeze it gratefully. She knows. If anything is going to be said...it's going to be now.

"Harry, you must tell us - how did you manage to survive out there for so long?"

The audience has fallen silent and I'm aware of the camera suddenly zooming in on his face.

He swallows. He's feeling uncomfortable. I'm all too familiar with that trait now.

"I couldn't have done it without her."

"Her?"

"Sarah. I wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for Sarah."

Someone's crying. There's a muffled sobbing noise to my left and I look over. My mother and Jules are wiping their eyes. Even my Dad's have glazed over. My eyes are dry but my heart is pounding.

"Sarah is the other passenger who survived. Is that right?" Harry nods. "Have you been in contact with her since you've been back?"

If he didn't look uncomfortable before, then he surely does now. "I definitely plan to."

It feels like the wind has been knocked out of my chest. I'm clutching at Addie's hand so tightly, I wouldn't be surprised if I've cut off her circulation.

I definitely plan to.

What sort of answer is that? Another empty promise?

When did he plan on coming to find me in the hospital?

I can hear James and Harry's voices still talking on the screen but my eyes have fallen on the carpet and I can't seem to lift them again. I don't want to hear any more. I don't want to see him on a screen.

I just want to see him. Nobody understands like he does.

Nobody was there. He was.

I drop my hold of my best friend and push myself up from the sofa; knocking her bowl sideways and sending popcorn falling into the gaps between the cushions. I'm not even going to stop and help.

"Sarah, what is it?" It's my Dad's voice; concerned and protective. I can hear Addie in the background, scrabbling for all the kernels that have spilt and out the corner of my eye, I can see Jules putting her mug down on the coffee table. She's going to get up and she's going to try and follow me to my room.

But I don't want to talk.

My mother is clutching a handful of tissues; her eyes are red and puffy and she keeps opening her mouth but can't seem to get any words out through her sobs.

I can't bear it.

"I just need to be alone for a while." I announce to the room, without making eye contact with anyone. There's a lump in my throat. "Please."

I don't wait for their responses. I don't want to fall apart in front them.

I storm out, making a beeline for the stairs and I don't look back.