Hearts on Air (Hearts #6)

by L.H. Cosway

  I was lathering shampoo into my hair when the bathroom door opened and Trev came inside. My pores drew tight when he wordlessly stepped into the shower behind me, still naked from the night before, and curled his arms around my waist.

  “Hey,” he murmured, his entire bare body pressed into my back. It felt surreal. I was naked in the shower with Trev. I was naked in the shower with my best friend.

  “Morning,” I answered back, quietly nervous.

  Trev chuckled, his voice a husky rasp. “Don’t go shy on me now, Reya. I’ve only just gotten started.”

  His hard cock pressed into the base of my spine. I was entirely too aroused and ached for him to slide inside me. I knew he couldn’t though, not without a condom, and I wasn’t sure how well condoms worked in the shower anyway. I’d never tried.

  “I want to fuck you again,” he said, his mouth on my earlobe. He licked and sucked until I was a melting puddle of horny goo. “You know, say good morning properly,” he went on.

  I want that, too. More than anything.

  “I’m trying to shower,” I replied croakily.

  “Then let me help.”

  I went quiet as his hands journeyed about my naked, wet skin. He explored without hesitation, every aching, needful inch of me. He grabbed the bottle of shower gel and squirted some into his palm, then made a lather before rubbing his hands over my shoulders, down my back, and around to massage my breasts.

  I whimpered when he finally dipped down between my legs and rubbed. I arched my spine, moving against his erection instinctively as his hips rutted into the soft cushion of my arse. We came almost in unison. I was just a few seconds behind him.

  I wasn’t sure why we were so attuned to one another sexually. Maybe it was because we’d known each other for such a long time. There was comfort there, an inherent knowledge of the other’s needs and rhythms.

  By the time we left the shower I was ready to go back to sleep—sexually exhausted. I put on a robe and handed Trev a towel to dry off. I left him in the bathroom and went out to see what there was for breakfast. His phone started ringing and I picked up his jacket to search the pockets. My hand met something plastic, but it wasn’t his phone. Pulling it out, I found a jar of pills. My eyes scanned the label before I could stop myself. It was a medication called Strattera, but I didn’t recognise it.

  Trev must’ve heard his phone, because he stepped out of the bathroom. He stopped when he saw what I was holding, his mouth forming a thin line. Whoever was calling must’ve been put through to voicemail because the ringing stopped.

  “I wasn’t snooping. I was looking for your phone,” I blurted awkwardly, and he came and took the pills off me. I noticed the container was pretty full.

  “Selective noradrenaline re-uptake inhibitors,” he said quietly, his eyes downcast.

  I furrowed my brow, confused. “Huh?”

  “The pills. That’s what they do. They’re supposed to help me deal with my . . . issues.”

  Oh. Realisation dawned and I felt terrible. This was Trev’s ADHD medication, little blue and yellow pills to help him stay balanced. I studied him, noting the agitated edge to his posture.

  “Oh well, again, I’m sorry. I meant it when I said I wasn’t snooping.” Pinpricks stabbed at my chest; the excuse sounded so lame.

  Trev ran a hand through his air, looking self-conscious, which was a rare sight for him. “Yeah. I’ve stopped taking them, so it doesn’t matter anyway.”

  “You’ve stopped? Why?” I asked with concern.

  “They fuck my head up. Give me migraines, and I can’t fucking sleep when I take them either.”

  “Ah,” I said, a knot of worry coiling in my stomach. I remembered how tired he looked when he showed up at my gig yesterday. “That’s not good.”

  “No, it isn’t. Not to mention the fact that last night wouldn’t have happened if I was still on them.”

  I frowned, not completely understanding.

  He stared at the floor before his eyes lifted to mine, everything about his demeanour uncomfortable. “One of the side effects is not being able to get it up. They can piss off if they think I’m gonna spend the rest of my life like that. If this is what everyone else feels like they can fucking have it.”

  I stepped closer and took his hand in mine. When Trev told me he was going to start taking medication, I naively imagined it would be an immediate fix, a miracle cure for all his problems. I didn’t think of the side effects, or how pills affected everyone differently. I didn’t realize he might be suffering even worse just to make the rest of the world feel better. Just to act in a way that didn’t put people on edge, while inwardly he was dying.

  “That isn’t how everyone else feels, Trev, and if this is how the pills affect you, you shouldn’t be taking them. Talk to your doctor about your options, maybe he could have you switch to a different treatment.”

  His blue eyes came to mine, and I suddenly saw the tremendous stress he was under. So many expectations now that he was going to be the star of his own reality show. The world was going to pick him apart, put a microscope over every crack to see what weak spots they could find. And though on the surface Trev had the polished, pretty-boy looks of a movie star, there were fractures underneath, so many of them just waiting to make him bow under the pressure.

  He pulled me into his arms, his hug so tight it almost knocked the wind out of me.

  “Don’t let me fuck everything up, Reyrey,” he whispered.

  “I won’t,” I murmured, struck by the fervency of his request. Maybe he considered himself his own worst enemy, his mind his biggest challenge to overcome. Squeezing him back, I hoped he heard the seriousness in my words.

  “I promise.”

  Eleven.

  “Let’s just leave them to work it out between themselves,” said Trev to Neil as he led him back out into the living room.

  “He’s locked her in with him. He can’t do that,” Neil argued, agitation in his posture.

  “I know, but they’re talking now. Maybe they’ll come to an understanding if we just give them some privacy.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that, especially considering Leanne and Callum already had a heart-to-heart earlier and it hadn’t achieved much. Although saying that, I hadn’t been privy to the entire exchange. Anything could’ve been said after I stopped listening, and anything could’ve happened while they were out tonight.

  James wished me goodnight while Paul gathered the Belgian girls and led them to the door, explaining that the ‘party’ was over. Not that it had been much of a party. They didn’t seem too happy about being dismissed, but they didn’t make a fuss either. Neil went to his own room and I glanced at Trev.

  “Looks like I’m bedding down on the couch tonight.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  I gestured toward the bedrooms. “My room is occupied.”

  He scratched at the day-old stubble on his chin. “Ah, right.” He went quiet, thinking on it a minute, then said, “You can take my bed.”

  I wasn’t surprised by the offer, but I shrugged it off nonetheless, even though I was exhausted. Now that I had a belly full of pizza I was so ready to go back to sleep.

  “Don’t worry about it. The couch will be fine. Plus, I already got a few hours while you lot were out. You need to sleep more than I do.”

  Trev strode across the room and took my hand, pulling me up from the couch. “Take my bed, Reya. I haven’t even slept in it yet so you don’t have to worry about my man-germs,” he teased. “Plus, I’ll just kip in Callum’s until he decides to come back.”

  I didn’t protest, mainly because he was right. He hadn’t slept in the bed. Technically, it wasn’t even his yet. Because yes, although I wasn’t concerned about ‘man-germs’, I was concerned about his scent on the sheets. That wasn’t something I felt equipped to handle.

  When we entered the bedroom, Trev pulled back the duvet and gestured for me to get in. I rolled my eyes at his mothering and climbed under, not both
ered to take my clothes off. They were lounge clothes that could basically double as PJs anyway.

  Trev got into Callum’s bed and flicked off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. I didn’t immediately relax, too aware of my breathing and the fact that Trev was literally only a few feet away. My memories from that night we spent together were still in my head, twisting me up inside. It was funny how clearly you could see things you were blind to in the past when you took the time to look back.

  Back then I thought I was being loyal. I thought I was being there for him and he was taking me for granted. But maybe he had more going on than I could have possibly imagined. Maybe he was suffering in a way no one else could see.

  “Trev,” I whispered in the darkened room.

  “Yeah?” he answered, his voice sleepy.

  “Can I ask a personal question?”

  “Go for it,” he went on, a little more alert.

  It took me a few moments to get the words out. “Are you taking medication now?”

  He hesitated for a second, then said, “Yes.”

  “Is it the same stuff as before?”

  His response was subdued. “No, it’s not the same.”

  “Oh. That’s . . . that’s good.”

  Another silence fell.

  “Why do you ask?” he questioned, curious.

  “I was just thinking of that night you spent in my flat, and the morning after when I found your pills,” I answered and heard him exhale. I knew he was remembering. The tension was so thick in the room you could almost see the events of the entire night splashed across the dark ceiling.

  “I wish I knew then what I know now,” he said sadly.

  “What do you know now?”

  “Lots of stuff.”

  “Such as?”

  Another deep exhale. “I know that change takes time. I know that though it can help, money doesn’t fix things. And I know that fame can be a chain around your ankles when you thought it would be a golden ticket to never-ending parties.”

  I laughed softly at that. “Well, they do say that parties are depressing when they never come to an end.”

  I could hear the smile in his voice when he asked, “Who are ‘they’?”

  “Okay, they don’t say it. I say it, because it’s true.”

  “That’s because you hate parties,” said Trev.

  “I don’t hate parties,” I corrected him. “I hate parties with more than sixteen people, remember? It’s an exact science.”

  “Ah yes,” Trev chuckled, the sound hitting me right in the pit of my stomach. “The sixteen-person rule, I remember now. You were always so specific about that number.”

  “Any more and you can’t have an interesting conversation. It just becomes a bunch of people standing around and nodding about mundane things they can’t really hear anyway because the music’s too loud.”

  “You know, I never understood why you hate loud music. You’re a musician. You’re supposed to love it.”

  “Loud music doesn’t make it good music. Sometimes the best songs are the quiet ones.”

  There was a short silence before Trev said, “Remember that song you used to sing where you whispered the last few lines? Always gave me chills.”

  His words set a simmer low in my stomach. I knew exactly which song he was talking about. “Open Up,” I said, my voice soft.

  “Yeah, that one. You still sing it?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “You should sing it on Wednesday at your gig,” he murmured quietly. “I’d love to hear it again.”

  “I might.”

  “I’ll live in hope,” he said, somewhat wistfully.

  I didn’t speak, feeling tense, because there was something about our hushed conversation that felt too intimate.

  “Okay, well, I suppose we should get some shut-eye, otherwise we’ll be up all night,” said Trev stiffly. So many of our conversations these days felt like a minefield. They veered from personal, to friendly, back to personal, to way too close and then to awkward.

  “Goodnight,” I whispered and turned over, tugging the duvet tight around me.

  “Night, Reya.”

  When I blinked my eyes open the next morning it was to an almighty ruckus. Light filtered in through the curtains and I glanced across the room to see Trev was still asleep in Callum’s bed. He shifted in place, cracked one eye open and asked tiredly, “What the hell are they doing out there?”

  “I think it’s the film crew. They must be setting up to record inside the apartment.”

  “Great,” Trev grunted, grabbing a pillow and pulling it over his head to block out the noise. It sounded like someone was drilling, and I was fairly certain they didn’t have permission to do that since the apartment was only a rental. Worried, I sat up, ran my fingers through my knotted, sleep-mussed hair and went to investigate.

  An argument erupted as I padded down the hallway and arrived in the kitchen where Neil was reprimanding one of the camera crew. “You can’t make any permanent alterations to the fixtures. Now we’re going to have to pay for those holes you just drilled in the wall.”

  “I’m sorry,” said the cameraman, who was young and looking very pale right then. “I didn’t know.”

  Glancing around the apartment, there was lots of activity going on, with other members of the crew milling about. I almost laughed when I saw Callum sleeping like a baby on the couch, earplugs in to block out the noise. I wondered how long his battle of wills with Leanne had gone on for last night.

  Seeing there was nothing I could really do about the noise, I went to my room and found Leanne and Paul sitting on her bed talking.

  “I’m sorry. I hope I’m not interrupting. I just need to grab a few things and then I’ll be out of your hair,” I said, deciding to go out for the day and do some exploring while I had the chance.

  “You’re fine. Stay,” said Leanne. “I’m so sorry about last night. You didn’t even get to sleep in your bed.”

  I waved away her apology. “Don’t worry about it. Trev volunteered his and he slept in Callum’s.”

  “Ever the gentleman is our Trevor,” said Paul with a grin.

  I didn’t indulge his teasing and focused my attention on Leanne. “Did you and Callum manage to patch things up?”

  There must’ve been something in my gaze that made her feel vulnerable because she looked away. “Yeah, we, um, made friends.”

  “For as long as that lasts,” Paul added ruefully, and Leanne nudged him in the side. “Ow, that hurt.”

  “You were asking for it,” Leanne threw back then looked at me. “We must seem like such drama queens to you. It’s just that . . . well,” she paused, seeming embarrassed before she continued, “Cal tried to kiss me while we were out last night. I knocked him back and he invited those girls home because he was angry. I shouldn’t have given him a reaction, but what can you do?”

  “I don’t think you’re a drama queen. I’ve been through it all before, remember?”

  She nodded. “Right. Well, I just wanted to make sure you don’t hate me for locking you out of your own room.”

  I waved her away. “Like I said, it’s fine. I’m just glad you two had a chance to sort things out.”

  “Got any plans for the day?” Paul asked, gazing up at me from his spot on Leanne’s bed.

  “I’m gonna try being a tourist on for size,” I answered. “Seems like there’s no sense in sticking around here.”

  “Can I come? I definitely need an excuse to get out of this apartment,” asked Leanne.

  “Sure. I’m just going to take a quick shower and then we can go.”

  In the end Paul decided to tag along with us. Trev was in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal as we were leaving. He seemed a bit disappointed that we didn’t invite him along, but I needed the distance. I was still digesting a lot of stuff.

  The three of us did the whole tourist circuit around the city, and I got to know Leanne and Paul better away from the chaos of the impending fi
lming. I liked them a lot, and by the end of the day our threesome had found a nice, comfortable rhythm.

  Thankfully I got to spend the night in my own bed, and unlike the previous day, everyone was tucked up early. I guessed they all knew where their priorities lay. They had a full day of filming ahead and they needed to be fresh.

  I was climbing the back stairs of an old, musty apartment building the following morning with Neil when I started to realise just how demanding this job was. Being a PA for these five wasn’t all ordering lattes and arranging meetings over the phone. It was stunt permits, non-liability waivers, clearing streets and ensuring medics were on site should any injuries occur. I’d been up since the crack of dawn helping Neil.

  When we stepped out onto the rooftop, I saw just how many people were involved in making the show. In my mind, it was simply the director and the film crew, but there were so many other professionals milling about, all with jobs to do.

  Trev stood by the far corner of the roof talking to the director, Barry, while he limbered up and stretched. You’d think he’d be decked out in athletic gear, but instead he wore a hoodie, a pair of loose-fitting jeans and Nikes. In this get-up he reminded me so much of the boy I first met in a dark, crowded nightclub, the one who was full of smiles and easy charm.

  He caught my eye and gestured for me to come over. I closed the distance between us and shot Barry a polite smile.

  “I want you to meet an old friend of mine. This is Reya. She’s filling in for Jo while we shoot.”

  “Nice to meet you, Reya,” said Barry, reaching out to shake my hand. His expression was polite but businesslike. He looked like a man with a long string of tasks to complete—slightly harried. “I hope you’re quick on your feet, otherwise this lot’ll run rings around you.”

  “Oh, I’m aware,” I replied with a laugh.

  “Anyway, I better be off. I need to go talk to Callum.”

  When he was gone I turned to Trev. “That sounds serious.”

  “Not really. Somebody always needs to talk to Cal. It’s like the sun rising in the morning,” he joked, then continued more seriously. “Used to be they had to talk to me as well.”