The moment I stepped out on to the stage and looked out over all those faces, I’m not ashamed to say that my stomach turned over. It was only for a fleeting second, though, because the music started and my inner showman took over. I only got a few minutes front and centre of the stage tonight with the other dancers; it’s not us that people are paying to see, but it still gave me a huge rush.
Chase was right in what he was saying that first day of rehearsals—the people in the audience tonight were here to hear his beautiful voice, not watch us prance around. We’re just an added extra. With his music being indie pop, there isn’t a huge call for dance routines, but the record label insisted that the more up-beat songs had more going on than a guy and a microphone. I have to say I agree with them, mind you. It’s fine for Chase’s slower and more emotional songs to be him sat on a stool with a guitar, or at a piano singing his heart out, but when the tempo picks up, more is needed. And I couldn’t be happier that I am part of that—along with my best friend, of course.
“Vodka cranberry and a pint of lager,” I say to the barman when we eventually get to the bar. The entire crew from the tour have overtaken this hotel for the two nights we are here, and seeing as this is the opening night, everyone is here celebrating its success.
Bella and I grab our drinks and reluctantly head over to where the other dancers are sat around a table already drinking. They are nice enough, but as I said before, they think this tour is beneath them. I’m sure they think they should be on Beyoncé’s tour or something. Don’t get me wrong, they are good dancers, but I’m not sure they are quite that good. Not yet, anyway.
Bella and I start chatting away about the performance tonight, but Jess, Chantelle, Paul and Connor roll their eyes at us and continue their earlier conversation about bum lifts.
I glance over at Bella, and we exchange a silent agreement to make some other friends. This tour could get old very fast if we have to spend our time hanging out with the fake bakes over there. From their dyed hair, Botox, implants, and tans, they are four of the fakest looking people I think I’ve ever seen, and I’m pretty sure that isn’t just skin deep.
The room fills up over the next hour or so until a hush falls over the entire group. I look over my shoulder to see what is going on, to see Chase stroll into the bar. He looks just like he did earlier.
Miserable.
How can someone who is that gorgeous and talented be that grumpy all the time? Surely being on this tour means he’s achieved what he wanted? He’s a huge success, and people everywhere are listening to his music.
Maybe he’s saving his excitement for his next album to drop in a couple of weeks or something.
“He just needs a good shag,” I hear from my left, catching my attention.
“You think?” Paul replies to Chantelle with a smirk on his face.
“Totally, and I know just the woman for the job,” she says, going to get up from her seat.
“He’s seeing someone, isn’t he?” Connor chips in.
“Yeah, he was photographed last week with Chloe Hart,” I say. So, I may or may not have been stalking Chase on Twitter since we found out we were part of this tour. I couldn’t help it; I wanted to know who we’d be working with. Him being the hottest male to walk the planet obviously had nothing to do with it.
“What, the soap actress?”
“Yeah, the little brunette. They were at an award ceremony together. There are pictures everywhere of them looking loved up. And he’s smiling!”
“I thought he was with that singer, the one from Cherished Bliss?” Jess adds when she returns to the table.
“Scarlet?” Paul asks
“No. That was, like, a month ago. I think he moved on,” I say, although I regret it instantly because I’m looking more and more like a stalker with every statement that comes out of my mouth.
“Been keeping tabs, have you?” Connor asks. He gives me a little wink as he says it. If he thinks he’s got a chance with me, then he’s seriously got another think coming. I’m sorry, but camp gay guys really don’t do it for me. I want a man, a real man, not one who minces about. Oh, and also not one who is practically orange with the amount of fake tan that is plastered on his skin, and who is currently rocking more eye make up than Bella.
“I wanted to know what I was getting myself into,” I say shrugging the comment off.
“Okay, so basically we’re saying he’s a bit of a player, and lonely, then. Perfect; just the way I like them!” Chantelle purrs as she pushes her already ridiculously perky boobs up higher towards her chin, and pulls her skirt up to reveal even more orange skin. Nice!
We all watch as she saunters over to where Chase is sat. She gets stopped by a couple of slightly drunk crew members on her way over, which gives me a chance to really look at what she is wearing—or not, as the case may be. She’s got on a cropped vest top. It’s so short that if you catch her at the right angle, you get a shot of under boob, because wearing a bra is clearly too much effort. Then, she’s got what I guess you could call a skirt, but really, it’s a scrap of fabric that is barely covering her arse. Heaven forbid she bends over just a little bit; the entire room will get a right orange eyeful. I do hope she hasn’t forgone underwear completely. Then, to finish the look, she has on a pair of hooker heels. Obviously she is in good shape—she is a dancer, after all, but putting it all on display is so not necessary. Well, I don’t think so, anyway. The guys that are practically tripping over themselves to get a look as she continues towards her destination seem to disagree with me.
I look back over at Bella and see her watching the show as well. I might not be into women, but if I was, Bella would be my perfect woman. She is gorgeous, but she doesn’t flaunt it. Her hair is the only fake thing about my best friend, and I can just about cope with that. Naturally, she is a blonde, but she’s had bright red hair for as long as I can remember. She has flawless pale skin, with bright blue eyes and full lips. Her body is banging. Not that she allows anyone to see it; she is usually dressed, as she is now, in a pair of leggings with an oversized t-shirt hanging from her shoulders, covering her perfection up. When I do manage to get her to dress up, which happens occasionally, she’s a total knockout. Any man would be lucky to have her on their arm. Well, that’s if she lets one get close enough.
By the time I pull myself from my musings and turn back around, Chantelle is just about to approach Chase’s table. He is sat totally alone with a tumbler of golden liquid and a notebook in front of him. He looks like he has the entire world weighing down on his shoulders. The others have obviously noticed his attitude and are steering clear as well. Fair play to Chantelle for giving it a go, though, because he looks like he’ll bite the head off anyone that approaches. He’s ignoring everything around him, though, and staring intently at his phone, probably texting Chloe.
If I didn’t know that he’d just come off stage from his first night on tour, then I’d never be able to guess from his behaviour. He looks like he’s had a bad day at work and is having a drink to forget it. But in reality, he’s just had hundreds, if not thousands, of women screaming his name and throwing random things at him on stage. I’m sure I saw a bra at one point! I don’t understand why he isn’t totally buzzing after that. The rest of us are, and we’re only a small part of this.
Chantelle walks straight up to him and perches her arse on the edge of the table, exposing her bare leg to Chase. Not that he notices.
He doesn’t notice anything until she reaches out and tips his head up with her fingers under his chin.
It’s like it all happens in slow motion; it’s all quite amusing, really, after the confidence she had.
His eyes run up over her leg, exposed stomach, then to her very made up face. The grimace he pulls makes me want to laugh. Clearly, she isn’t his type at all. Not that it bothers Chantelle, because she proceeds to place both hands on the table in front of her, which causes her boobs to pop up right in front of Chase’s face.
“Well, thi
s is going well,” Paul comments, obviously thinking exactly the same as me.
If it’s possible, Chase looks even more pissed off than he has done all night, and that is saying something.
Bella can’t contain herself any longer, and spits her drink out laughing when we watch Chantelle reach her hand out as if she is going to run it down Chase’s arm, and he actually shoves his chair back in an attempt to get away from her.
“I’m so sorry,” she says when she sees me wipe my neck that just got sprayed with her vodka cranberry.
Chase says something to her, but I’m a terrible lip reader, so I have no idea what it is. She soon turns and starts storming back towards us, so I’m guessing it wasn’t anything she wanted to hear.
“Well, that was successful,” Bella comments when Chantelle gets close enough to hear her.
“I’m meeting him later,” she replies without missing a beat.
“Bollocks,” Bella states, “you just got turned down.”
“Whatever,” Chantelle snaps, before spinning on her heels and disappearing off in the direction of the toilets.
“I can’t believe he turned her down,” Connor says once she’s out of view.
“I can; does he look like Chantelle would be his type?”
Chase is very boy next door. He’s got shaggy light brown hair, dark green eyes, and a stunning jaw line. Other than a suit in the award party pictures I was looking at, I’ve never seen him in anything other than a t-shirt with a long-sleeved shirt layered over the top and a pair of jeans. Tonight is no different. His look doesn’t exactly scream, I want a plastic princess.
“Ha, what are you suggesting? That his type is more Connor, or you?” Paul says with a laugh.
The thought of Chase being gay gives me tingles. I try to enjoy the thought, because I know it’s not true. He is most definitely into girls. He’s been seen with his tongue down enough of them. Anyway, a guy that stunning would never be gay. I know women always say guys that are too good looking must be gay; well, from my experience, they’re not, because I have never found myself surrounded by guys as hot as Chase to pick from.
“Don’t be stupid, he’s not gay,” Jess says. “He just needs the right woman. Challenge accepted. I’m gonna bide my time a little, though—tease him, make him want it!” She slams her empty glass down on the table with a predatory look in her eyes before getting up and heading towards the bar.
I glance over to Chase, who is still sat staring down at his phone, and I can’t help but feel sorry for him a little. I don’t think he realises that his misery is making him an even bigger challenge for these plastic princesses.
“Shhh, everyone quiet,” someone—I think Pip the drummer, at the bar—shouts, and everyone does as he says. Seconds later, the familiar sounds of Chase’s biggest hit so far fills the bar. Whoops and hollers go out around the room, and drinks get downed in excitement.
Bella and I follow suit and knock our drinks back. When I look over at her, she is carelessly laughing, and it makes me so happy to see her enjoying herself. She’s had a tough few years, and she very nearly gave all of this up. I’m so unbelievably proud of her.
“Hey, look,” Bella says, elbowing me in the arm and nodding her head to the other side of the room.
When I turn around, I see Chase leaving the bar. It’s clear to see even from here that his head is hung slightly between his shoulders, like he has the weight of the world on them. I glance back at his table and see his still untouched drink and his notebook sat exactly where they were earlier.
* * *
“Fucking hell, that lot are something else,” Bella says as we head towards our room later that evening. The party is still going strong, but I’d had about all I could take of the fake bakes, so we agreed to give in.
“I’m not sure I’m gonna cope with spending every day with those four.”
“Ah, they’re not that bad. They mean well; they’re just a little…superficial.”
“A little?” I question as I unlock our door.
“Well, they could be worse. They’re not horrible.”
“I guess.”
“What exactly are you planning to do with that?” Bella asks as I place Chase’s notebook on our dressing table.
“Give it back to him, I guess.” I’m not sure why I picked it up, really. It’s obviously not important if he just left it there, but something told me to.
“Oh, it might have songs in for his next album. Pass it over,” Bella says as she bounces down on the bed and crosses her legs.
“No, it could be private.”
“So private that he left it in a bar full of people?”
“Maybe. Just leave it.” I look at her pouting face. “Bella,” I warn.
“Okay, fine. Spoil sport,” she says, before sticking her tongue out at me.
It’s been a bit of an insane day, so not only am I a little worse for wear after one too many shots with the plastics, but I’m exhausted. The high from the show is definitely starting to wear off.
I swear Bella is snoring before her head even hits the pillow. I, on the other hand, can’t switch off. And it’s Chase’s fault. I can’t get the image of him walking away earlier out of my head. He looked so defeated. Surely today should have been one of the best days of his life? He’d just performed to a sell out crowd of screaming fans, so why he looked so dejected is bothering me. Fuck knows why, I’ve barely said two words to the guy. He’s made it very clear with his attitude towards everyone that he isn’t here to make any friends.
I sit up in bed and I can just about make out the notebook that is exactly where I left it. I know I told Bella not to touch it, but it’s like it’s talking to me, begging me to open it and see what’s in there.
DOWNLOAD NOW
Falling For Caleb (Falling Book 7) Page 10