by L.H. Cosway
It was so fucked up.
At first, I didn’t think too much of it. I’d told myself it was simply because she was a friend and we worked together. We got along, had shared interests. But it wasn’t normal to fixate on her smile, the light behind her eyes, the way we laughed together about silly things only we were interested in.
I could talk to her for hours and never once feel bored.
I felt like a dirty old man, obsessing over my twenty-two-year-old assistant. I was a bloody cliché, and I needed to get my act together.
I hated how relieved I was last night when she told me she hadn’t sent that selfie to Louis. And I was jealous of the thought of her taking it in the first place. When it appeared on my phone, I knew I was going to have a hard time forcing myself to delete it.
Sitting up, I ran a hand down my face, groaning at the ache concentrated behind my skull. I headed to the bathroom to take a shower. After that, I decided to grab some breakfast from the café down the street. Michaela definitely deserved a thank you after consoling my pathetic drunken arse last night. Her door was still closed as I passed her room. She was probably sleeping in after the late night.
When I got back, I found her in the kitchen in her pyjamas, sipping on a mug of herbal tea. Her long dark hair hung messily around her shoulders, her eyes tired and her lips puffy. She wore sleep shorts that ended just above the knee and I couldn’t resist a quick glance at her long, shapely legs. She’d never looked prettier, just sitting there tired and hungover and completely unaware of how gorgeous she was.
“Hey,” I said, setting the brown paper bag down on the counter.
“Morning,” she replied, eyes wandering to the bag. “What’s that?”
“Breakfast. I thought you might need a hangover cure after last night.” I handed her one of the cardboard containers.
She took it from me eagerly and I resisted the urge to grin. Why did I always feel so much better when I was around her? It was like whatever she was made of sucked out all the sadness inside me and replaced it with hope. Michaela somehow made me hopeful that one day I might not feel Mum’s absence so starkly. That I wouldn’t regret all the times I wished I’d let her know just how much I adored her. Mum had always been there for me, and it felt wrong to live in a world without her in it. I knew I’d never stop missing her, but maybe there’d come a time when the pain wasn’t quite so powerful.
I took the only other seat, across from her, and opened my own breakfast.
“I was thinking of going shopping for a couch today,” I said.
Michaela glanced up from her food. “Oh, but I thought you weren’t planning on living here after—”
“I’m not,” I cut in. “But we need a couch, and maybe a TV, too. I’m sick of sitting on these crappy folding chairs.”
“They aren’t very comfortable,” Michaela agreed.
“Will you come with me?” I asked impulsively. “I could use your input.”
She blinked. “Um, sure. I don’t have any other plans.”
I nodded, and we fell silent. I wanted to bring up what we’d talked about last night, to thank her again, but I couldn’t think of the right way to broach it.
She tucked some hair behind her ear, and my eyes were drawn to the movement, the delicate line of her neck. “So, about last night,” she said, and my nerves kicked in.
I hadn’t been taking my medication in recent days, and I’d had to keep reminding myself that it was normal to have nerves. It was normal to feel anxiety and fear. It was manageable without medicine, far from overwhelming, and I was sick of being chained to a pill. I knew some people needed them, but I wasn’t one of those people. I started to wonder if I ever truly needed medication at all. It had been something Diana talked me into without really giving me a chance to decide for myself. I’d spent so much time agreeing with her I didn’t even know what my own opinion was anymore.
Besides, I was settled in my career now. Being on TV no longer made me panic like it had at the start, and I was used to the fame that came with it. I shouldn’t have to rely on pills to help me deal with something that no longer scared me.
I cleared my throat. “What about last night?”
Michaela gave a shy smile. “I just wanted to let you know that I meant what I said. If you ever need to talk, about anything at all, I’m here.”
My chest warmed at her kind reminder, the way her open, guileless brown eyes stared across the table at me. She had no idea how much it meant for her to say that, to know I had someone outside of my family and friends who I could confide in. For some reason, I felt more comfortable talking to her than I did with my brother or sisters, even my best friends. There was just something incredibly non-judgemental about Michaela. It drew me to her in a way I’d never been drawn to anyone before.
“Thank you,” I said, and on instinct, I reached out and touched her hand, my fingers brushing her knuckles. I’d only meant to convey my gratefulness, but the spark of heat that ran from her body to mine was jarring. I quickly removed my hand and stood from the table.
“Right, well, I was going to leave to go couch shopping in about an hour.”
“I’ll be ready,” she said with a nod, and I went upstairs.
How was being in the same room with her so intense all of a sudden? Maybe it was because I hadn’t been aware of my attraction to her for a long time. What it meant. It was clearly the reason why I gravitated to her, but I’d always thought it was simply a personality thing. We got along well, so obviously I’d enjoy her company. I never knew my heart wanted something from her. Something it never had. I couldn’t deny there was a warmth in Michaela where Diana had only ever been cold.
It felt horrible to compare them, but I couldn’t help it. Diana had been suffocating me for years. Now that we were over, I finally felt like I could breathe again.
And Michaela was the oxygen I craved.
Fifteen
Michaela
“So, do you prefer leather or fabric?” I asked as James and I strolled through endless aisles of sofas and armchairs. I was particularly smitten with those large swivel chairs that looked like the perfect place to snuggle up with a good book. They were only big enough for one person though, or two people if they were sitting particularly close.
And now I was imagining snuggling with James, and that was an image that needed to get right out of my head.
“I don’t know,” James replied. “I feel like I’ll know the perfect couch when I see it.”
I flopped down onto another swivel chair, this one made from grey velvet fabric. “What about one of these?” I suggested. “You could still get a couch and use this as an armchair.”
James’ lips curved into a smile. “I’m not sure that’s my style.”
“Well, okay, crushed velvet probably isn’t for you, but you can have one made in any colour or fabric you like. Look, it swivels,” I said, rocking the chair from side to side. “Come and try it out.”
I realised my error when James lowered himself to sit next to me and my snuggling fantasy was almost real. “It’s a bit of a tight squeeze for two,” he said quietly.
“Well, it’s not really meant for two.”
“I thought it was a love seat,” he went on, his low voice so close it was doing strange things to me.
“No, it’s a swivel chair. See?” I said, giving another push and causing James’ shoulder to knock into mine, his forearm brushing my wrist.
A memory of this morning came to me, when he’d reached out to touch my hand. Butterflies flooded my stomach again. I was sure the feeling of heat was completely one-sided, and it felt so incredibly awkward to have such a visceral reaction when the other person obviously didn’t feel the same way.
“Sorry,” I said, our faces only inches apart. “I was just trying to demonstrate.”
“No worries,” he said, then ran his hand along the arm of the chair.
Stop finding that sexy, you perv.
I quickly stood. “We should keep
moving. There are lots more to see.”
James rose and we continued to mosey down the aisle. A salesperson approached, wearing black slacks and a bright red polo shirt. His name tag read ‘Masoud’ and he had the most perfectly manscaped beard I’d ever seen.
“Hi guys, can I help you with anything?”
“We’re looking for a couch,” I said, then shook my head at myself. “Sorry, stating the obvious.”
Masoud gave a light chuckle, and his smile was even more perfect than his beard. Straight teeth, too. “Right, that’s generally what people come here for. If you need any help, just give me a shout.” His attention went to James and he seemed a little shy. “By the way, you probably find this annoying, but I just wanted to say I’m a big fan of your show.”
“It’s not annoying at all,” James replied. “I’m always happy to meet a fan.”
Sometimes I forgot that he was a celebrity. He wasn’t the kind of famous where people recognised him everywhere he went, but every once in a while, fans approached him. It was the same for Isaac and Paul. Trev, Callum, and Leanne were slightly more high profile. Trev because he was the show’s creator and main star, and Callum and Leanne because their relationship put them in the spotlight.
Masoud pulled out his phone. “Would you mind taking a selfie with me?”
“Not at all,” James replied, and they quickly took a picture. Masoud shook his hand, gushing thanks and left us to continue couch hunting.
“I don’t know how you do it. I’d hate to be recognised by strangers,” I said, bristling at the thought.
“You wouldn’t like to be famous?” James questioned, seeming interested.
“No way. The very idea makes my skin crawl.” He stared at me now. I blinked at him. “What?”
He smiled. “That’s a very strong reaction. Most people say they’d love to be famous.”
“Well, I don’t understand the instinct. I mean, think about it. The best possible scenario is to be famous and rich, which only happens to the lucky few. A lot of famous people aren’t even that rich nowadays,” I paused, wincing. “No offence.”
James chuckled. “None taken. And I might not be super rich, but I do okay.”
“I’d just hate the scrutiny, everybody knowing who you are, details of your personal life being accessible by the public. But then you still have to go out and do your own grocery shopping, have people snap pictures of you while you’re trying to decide which toilet paper to buy.”
“Well, at least I have you and Neil to buy my toilet paper for me,” James quipped.
I grinned. “Right. That is true. Thankfully we can remain anonymous while we shop for you.”
We fell into silence for a minute, just staring at each other before James started to frown and moved on. I chewed my lip, worried he might’ve sensed some hint of my crush from the way I was looking at him just now. I stood close by, my stomach in knots, still worrying, while James checked out a navy couch.
“Before I was on TV, I never wanted to be famous either, but nobody seemed to understand,” he said.
I studied him. “They didn’t?”
“Don’t get me wrong, my family would’ve supported me no matter what I chose, but Diana was dead set on me being in the show. If it weren’t for her encouragement, I don’t think I ever would’ve gone ahead with it. It comes naturally to me now, but back then I was terrified of being on camera.”
I was surprised by his admission, especially since James came across so confident and sure of himself. He might be quiet, but he wasn’t shy. But then when I thought about it some more, it made perfect sense. James and I were kindred spirits. He was about as likely to seek out fame as I was to stand up on one of these couches and scream that I fancied the pants off him.
“Sometimes,” I said, “I watch episodes of the show when they’re on TV and catch brief glimpses of myself in the background. It’s such a weird feeling. I guess because you never really see yourself from that faraway angle.”
“You don’t like it?” James questioned, curious.
“It’s not that I don’t like it. It just goes against my nature. My natural instinct is to be invisible. I know that sounds strange because most people love attention. But attention just feels…I don’t know, scary to me.”
James ran his hands over the couch, maybe trying to decide if he liked the fabric or not. “That is strange,” he agreed, glancing at me now. “I get not liking being the centre of attention in a room full of people, but don’t you even like attention from one person?”
I shrugged. “That’s different, I guess, but it has to be the right person.”
“What sort of person is that?” James probed.
“My friends, people I…like,” I answered in the quietest voice possible.
“So there’s good attention and bad attention,” James surmised.
“Exactly,” I said, hoping he’d drop the subject. I suddenly felt like he was secretly psychoanalysing me.
“Do you ever wonder why you feel that way?” he went on.
“Sometimes,” I murmured. “When I was little, my brother Bennet used to be a bit of a bully.” He still was, but I didn’t want to get into that right now. “He’d resented our parents taking me in. Rather than seeing it as an act of kindness, he saw it as a reflection on him, like he wasn’t enough for them, so they went and found someone else’s kid to raise.” I was pretty sure he still felt that way, even though he was a thirty-two-year-old grown adult. Some people never got over their teenage insecurities. “He’d tell me if I didn’t behave, our parents would send me back into foster care,” I went on. “So I always tried to be as quiet and invisible as possible. People used to compliment my mum and dad on how well-behaved I was. They had no idea how Bennet had gotten into my head. He made me terrified of doing something wrong and being kicked out onto the street.”
James frowned at me now. “Jesus Christ.”
I shrugged, eyes lowering. “I got through it.”
He came to stand in front of me. “Your brother is a dickhead for saying that to you. What a fucking psycho. I knew there was something off about him when he came to see you at the gym. I got a bad vibe.”
“I’m glad you noticed. Some people are so fooled by Bennet. They see the suit and somehow think he’s a good, respectable person.”
“Did you ever tell your parents?” James asked.
I shifted away, unable to take his closeness or the sympathy in his eyes. “No. Like I said, when I was a kid, I was too scared to tell them. Then as I got older, I planned to move away and live with my friends. A big part of it was so that I wouldn’t have to see Bennet very often. And I don’t really see him now, well, except for when he comes looking for me.”
James’ expression darkened. “Does he do that a lot? Come to see you, I mean?”
I shook my head. “His last visit was the first time. I think he resents the fact that I’m living my own life now and don’t have to rely on Mum and Dad anymore. He can’t get into my head like he used to.”
James reached out, surprising me when he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes wandering back and forth between mine. “Next time he shows up, give me a call. I don’t mind being a buffer. I’ll even scare him off if you want me to.”
“That’s very kind of you but—”
“No buts,” James interrupted, his voice sincere. “You’ve been a rock for me lately. I don’t know what I’d do without you. So I definitely owe you.”
I blinked, trying not to become emotional. “Well, thank you. And I’m glad having me around has helped. I was starting to worry I was getting under your feet.”
“Never. I love having you around,” he said, and my heart skipped a beat. I felt breathless all of a sudden.
“Well, we’d better get back to shopping,” I said.
“No need. I’ve made my decision. I want this one.” James gestured to the navy sectional we were standing in front of.
“It is pretty comfy,” I said, sitting
down. James sat next to me and we were shoulder to shoulder again.
“Why don’t you go tell Masoud we’ll take it,” he suggested.
I glanced at him. “You’re definitely sure?”
James studied me a moment, his eyes moving across my face, and I wished to know what he was thinking. “I’m sure.”
He pulled a credit card from his wallet and I took it, our fingers brushing in the process. I was never aware of touching other people the same way I was aware when I touched James. Even the tiniest brush of his fingers sent a thrill through my whole body. I walked over to the counter where Masoud stood talking to another customer and got in line.