by L.H. Cosway
I was distracted when an announcement came over the speakers saying our train was now boarding, and everyone started getting up to leave.
I touched Trev’s elbow. “I’ll go grab Leanne.”
“Okay, see you on the train.”
When I reached the bathroom it was empty. Just one cubicle had the door closed so I gave a light knock. “Leanne, are you in there? The train’s boarding.”
I heard a tiny sniffle then, “I’ll be there in a minute.”
I knew I should leave, but I hesitated. From the scratchy sound of her voice I suspected she’d been crying. “Are you okay?” I asked gently.
There was a moment of silence and then the door unlocked. She stepped out, not looking at me as she went to wash her hands. “I’m fine,” she said and turned on the water.
I knew she was lying but we weren’t familiar enough for me to push for the truth. “Okay, well, I’ll see you out there.”
I just reached the door when she spoke. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
I turned on my heel. “Pardon?”
She blew out a watery breath, her eyes rimmed with red. “I said I don’t expect you to understand what it’s like to be around someone you have feelings for when they have complete and total disregard for you, for everything.”
My heart did a quick thump. Little did she know, I knew exactly what that felt like. “I thought you both gave as good as you got. That day at the gym it seemed like you enjoyed taunting him.”
She exhaled shakily. “Yeah well. Sometimes I’m my own worst enemy. He’s just always had this way of provoking me, so I act like a dick. He acts like one back, and the cycle continues.”
She held my gaze for a second then returned her attention to washing her hands. A moment of silence fell before I spoke, “You’re wrong, you know. I’ve, well, I’ve actually been in a similar position to yours.”
Her blue eyes flared. “You have?”
I nodded and glanced over my shoulder to make sure nobody was eavesdropping. “Trev and I used to . . . have a thing. We were friends for a long time, it briefly became more, but then it fizzled out.”
“Was it his fault?” she asked, drying her hands with some tissue.
“I’m still not too sure. Sometimes I blame myself for getting ideas about someone I knew deep down could never commit. You know about his condition, right?”
She nodded. “Yeah. He has therapy every week. There’s a clause in our contract preventing the film crew from including footage of us discussing anything to do with his treatment.”
Well, that was interesting. And a good sign. Although I worried about him taking three weeks off to film. Perhaps he’d arranged to meet a therapist while we travelled. I focused my attention back on Leanne. “He seems to have matured a lot, and the therapy must be working because he could be just as careless as Callum back then. So yeah, I know how you feel. If you ever want to talk, well, we’re going to be sharing a room for the next three weeks, so I’m sure we’ll have ample time.”
That got a small smile out of her and she nodded, surprising me when she said, “I’d like that.”
When we boarded the train, I was startled to see several members of the film crew already recording. I thought they weren’t starting until Wednesday, but they must’ve wanted to catch footage of the journey. It didn’t look like anyone had been hooked up to microphones, so I presumed they were going to use it for a montage or something like that. Those watchful glass lenses made me self-conscious in my ripped jeans and grey jumper, but I quickly brushed it off. I was going to have to get used to cameras over the coming days.
Trev seemed able to read my thoughts when he said, “Don’t worry. I bet the camera loves you.”
His reassurance took me off guard, especially that last bit. I frowned and went to grab my suitcase. We were in the first-class section, so the seats were a little fancier than typical. There were also food menus for later. I lifted my bag to put it on the storage shelf above my seat when Trev approached from behind and took it from me.
“Let me,” he murmured, his warm body at my back.
I shoved aside how his closeness made me feel and slid onto my seat, glad it was by the window. A second later my nerves kicked in when Trev took the one right next to me.
“Leanne looks like she’s been crying,” he said in a quiet voice. “Is she okay?”
I glanced at him then around the carriage. Leanne was sitting two rows up, her earphones in.
“She was little upset but I think she’ll be fine. You should talk to Callum about maybe employing a little more tact around her.”
He appeared interested by this. “What makes you think I have any say in what Callum does?”
I only arched a brow in response. He knew as well as I did he had power there.
“Fine. I’ll talk to him,” he said on an exhale, and I was surprised he was taking my advice. I was a mere employee in this situation. It wasn’t like he was under any obligation to appease me.
“I’m wrecked,” he continued. “Didn’t get much sleep last night. You mind if I take a nap?”
I shook my head. “No. Go for it.”
He sank back into his seat, folded his arms and closed his eyes. “If you need to use the john just climb over me. I promise I won’t mind,” he said, eyes still closed as his mouth formed a smirk.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” I said and shook my head. “But if I need to use the bathroom I’ll be waking you up.”
He cracked open one eye and chuckled. “Spoilsport.”
I would’ve questioned his flirty tone, but this was who he’d always been. Even when our relationship was platonic he’d been flirtatious. It was ingrained in his personality. I wasn’t sure there existed a woman between eighteen and eighty he couldn’t find some way to charm.
The train started to move and a fizzle of excitement ran through me. This was it. We were on our way. I hadn’t travelled much in my life, just back and forth to Spain a few times when I was a kid to visit family. My parents emigrated from Madrid when they were in their late teens to make a life for themselves in London. I was looking forward to visiting Barcelona because I’d never been there, but Madrid not so much. There were too many memories there, and memories made me hear my mother’s voice in my head.
¿Por qué nunca dices la verdad? Estás tratando de arruinarnos con tus mentiras.
Why do you never tell the truth? You are trying to ruin us with your lies.
My thoughts had me feeling unsteady. Trev’s breathing deepened and I suspected he’d nodded off. I pulled my notebook from my small handbag and began to write.
Close your eyes and pick a word.
Describe the person you see in your head.
Not the one in theirs.
Take your time.
Take your time.
Tómate tu tiempo
Don’t be scared. Don’t overthink.
Strong, good.
Proud, better.
Flawed, yes.
Truthful, always.
We are all a work in the making.
Even when we end we are unfinished we’re never really finished.
I was scribbling for a couple more minutes when Trev’s voice startled me. “Can I see?”
I froze, goosebumps claiming my skin, then turned to him. “You know I don’t like that.”
“But I’m gonna hear you sing them eventually. Why can’t I read the lyrics?”
I worried my lip, thinking on it as I shut my notebook. “Because words without music are far too revealing. The music massages their starkness. Most people are too busy listening to the melody to realise you’re baring your soul.”
Trev stared at me for a long, long moment. “So, if I read your lyrics it’s like discovering a secret, but if I watch you play I’m too dazzled by the music to hear the truth?”
I shrugged and looked away, feeling self-conscious now. “Something like that.”
“It’s not just the music that dazzles pe
ople, you know. It’s you.”
I glanced back at him and he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I inhaled and shifted away slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I was always fascinated when I watched you perform,” he confessed and my breath caught. “You’d start out all prim and proper, so dignified in those long, flowy dresses you wear on stage, your back straight, chest forward. Then you’d start to play and you’d slowly unravel. By the end of one song your hair would fall from its clip, by then end of the next, the straps of your dress would be loose at your shoulders. You were so real. You fucking slayed me. You mesmerised everyone and that’s because you were so unaware.”
I had no words, no idea how to respond. I never expected him to say something like that, not with the low rumble of the engine and the chatter of other passengers surrounding us.
“Are you trying to butter me up? Am I going to be sleeping in the broom closet instead of sharing with Leanne when we arrive in Brussels?” I asked, needing to break the intensity of the moment, the honesty of it. He was making me feel too many things.
He smiled, seeming to guess I was embarrassed, and shot back, “Nah, but I might need you to wash my underwear as part of your PA duties.”
I cocked a brow. “Only your underwear? How very specific.”
“I’ll get Neil to do my clothes, but I thought I’d save the honour of my dirty jocks for you,” he said and winked.
“Delightful,” I chuckled.
“How about this, if you do mine I’ll do yours.”
“Oh, romantic.”
“Only for you, Reyrey,” he said, using my old pet name. It was the first time he’d used it in over two years and I felt . . . conflicted. Although, it was going to happen eventually the more time we spent together.
I took a moment to look out the window as the world whizzed by. In two hours we’d be in another country. I’d be in a strange place and Trevor would be the only familiar thing. I needed to prepare, needed to steel myself. Trev Cross was like honey. I was naturally drawn to his sweetness, but was wary to get too close. We needed to stay friends. I wanted him in my life as a friend, because everything else aside, I had missed him. But I was wiser now. I’d been scarred before by his neglect.
I wouldn’t melt for his charms like I always used to . . .
Seven.
Past.
Saturday gigs paid the best money, but I hadn’t wanted to play tonight. I’d been two seconds away from cancelling when I forced myself to get a grip. Trev was just busy. That was the reason I hadn’t heard from him all week. That had to be the reason.
I brushed some powder over my cheeks, lined my eyes heavily with black, and donned a long purple dress. It was sleeveless but draped nicely over my hips, covering those parts I was always so conscious of. Was that why Trev wasn’t calling? Had seeing me naked turned him off?
No, that couldn’t be it. If it was, then he wouldn’t have been so . . . verbal in expressing his pleasure.
The club’s MC announced my set and I walked out onto the stage, a black veil over my face, my stage name “Queenie” scrawled along my left arm in gold sharpie. I wondered vaguely if it would be hard to scrub off. The crowd cheered, albeit drunkenly, and I took a seat at my keyboard. I carefully drew the veil back and started to play.
It always took me a few songs to get comfortable. But then, when that perfect moment hit, where I was one with my voice and my instrument, I felt like I was soaring, gliding through air. I started the final song of my set, a new one I’d penned just a few days ago. It was called “Completely Incomplete.”
My hand without fingers
My song without words
This is what it feels like when you’re not in my world
Com-com-com-completely incomplete
My eyes without vision
My voice without sound
This what I become when you’re not around
Com-com-com-completely incomplete
The upbeat piano ditty was at odds with my mournful lyrics. A chill fell over me and I opened my eyes. There in the middle of the crowd stood Trev. His bright blue gaze caught the light and glowed. He was half demon, half angel. Everything I ever wanted but never took. I pounded the keys with more force, sweat trickled down the middle of my spine, and a dull ache swelled inside me.
His presence made me forget how much it hurt when he didn’t call. He made me forget everything that came before. All I felt was the moment, whittled down to one single emotion.
Want.
It was a base instinct, one I couldn’t control. I finished my set and stood as the crowd whistled and clapped. When I entered the backstage area and stumbled into my tiny dressing room, I felt drunk, even though I hadn’t taken a drop of alcohol. Foggy headed. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, like the devil beckoning me with the promise of everlasting pleasure, urging me to take his hand.
I felt Trev get nearer, some sixth sense knew he was coming, then he pulled back the curtain separating the tiny nook of a dressing room from the corridor. My fingers shook as I lifted a makeup wipe to clean my face. My eyes went to him, but I didn’t speak.
“Hey,” he breathed. His hair was messy and his clothes rumpled. There were bags under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights.
“Rough day?” I asked, quiet, subdued, while on the inside I was edgy, skittish, tense.
He stepped past the curtain and pulled it over, shrouding us in a cloak of false privacy. You could still hear the noise of the club, still hear the footsteps going to and fro. I watched as he ran a hand down his face and exhaled heavily. He came and sat on the edge of the dressing table.
“Rough week,” he answered, his attention wandering over my face and down to my cleavage. A twinge of desire flittered through me like feathery wings beating in my belly.
“Want to talk about it?”
His expression softened and I was gifted with a rare moment of the real Trev, the one who had fears and hopes and dreams. “Not really.”
“Okay.”
He sighed. “It’s just, the TV people don’t think the show is going to be strong enough with only three of us. They want to audition others. Callum’s been up in arms about it.” He paused and rolled his eyes. “You know how delicate his ego can be. I don’t care about sharing the spotlight, I just don’t want other people coming in and taking a cut of the money. James is trying to be diplomatic about it, but I know he’s quietly pissed, too.”
I wasn’t surprised that Trev cared more about the money than the spotlight, even though most people would’ve thought it was the opposite. He’d been so poor as a kid that money meant more to him than material things. It meant safety, security. It meant not being at the mercy of another person ever again.
“You guys know lots of other free runners. Just pick the ones you think you’ll get along with best and put them forward as candidates.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he said and went silent as I began packing away my things. He watched me with a heat so potent it felt like a physical touch. My skin beaded as I reached by him to grab my make-up bag. He caught my hand, his thumb brushing over the delicate inside of my wrist. My throat constricted as I glanced up to meet his eyes.
“Can we go back to yours?” he asked huskily.
I opened my mouth to speak, then hesitated. My initial thought was to say yes, but instead I asked, “Why didn’t you call me all week?”
Trev frowned like I was being a buzzkill. “I told you, things have been crazy.”
My brows rose. “Too crazy for a five-minute phone call?”
“I told you. It won’t be like this forever. Everything’s just moving really fast right now.”
“Right,” I said, an uneasiness taking hold. The spell broke, my indignation built. I was angry at how he ignored me for days then just thought he could show up and I’d do whatever we wanted. We hadn’t had sex yet, not properly, and the expectation of it hung heavy in the air between us. It was something we both
wanted desperately, I knew that, but maybe his intentions weren’t as pure as mine. Showing up unannounced after a week of radio silence felt a lot like being used. I was worth more than that. I wasn’t going to be his booty call, or whatever the hell this was.
I grabbed my bag and keyboard case and made my way out into the corridor. Trev followed heavy on my heels.
“You think I don’t care about you,” he said, guessing my thoughts.
“No. I know you care about me. You just don’t care enough. I’m not asking for the world, Trev. I’m not asking for much at all, just a little respect.”
He caught me by the wrist and tried to take my things. “Let me carry those.”
I refused to let go and turned to face him. “You’re only here because you want sex. Admit it.”
Trev’s expression transformed to one of disbelief. “You honestly think that?”
“What do you expect me to think? You say you want to be with me, but you still treat me like a buddy. This isn’t how you treat a girlfriend, not even close.”
He moved toward me, his chest bumping mine and stared me down. The intensity radiating off him was almost intimidating. “Teach me, then,” he whispered.
I huffed a breath. “I’m not even sure if you’re teachable. You don’t know how to treat a girlfriend because nobody’s ever demanded anything of you. No one’s ever told you to act right, because they’re too dazzled by how good-looking you are. They’re too busy feeling blessed that you deign to grace them with your presence. Well, that’s not going to be me. I’m not going to let you walk all over me like the other girls you’ve been with.”
I felt a little awkward after I finished speaking, like I had to mentally step down off a podium or something. Trev didn’t say a word, and his expression was unreadable. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Slowly, he reached down and took my bag and case. He set both items on the floor then took my face in his hands. I swallowed when he started backing me up into the wall. My shoulders met the cold concrete as he levelled me with a sincere look.