by Lisa Swallow
I head to the kitchen and Bryn follows like a lost puppy. He continues to stare, as if he’s landed in a third world country. “Your house is cold.”
“Heating’s broken.”
“In this weather? Why don’t you fix it?”
“We’re waiting for the landlord to sort everything out. He’s slow.”
“Not good.”
“Nope.” I pick up the blue bag that matches my dress. The dress and bag I’ve worn once in my life then hung onto in case something formal comes up again. I never thought it would be an occasion like this.
“Are you looking forward to tonight?” he asks.
“Yes and no. I’m still surprised you called me.”
“I told you, I like you and wanted to catch up again.”
But, why? I want to ask, but “Right,” is the best response I can manage.
We head out of the house to the waiting cab. I feel ridiculous, like a teen girl heading to a formal with a boy she isn’t sure what she’ll do with when the evening ends.
This could be a big mistake.
On the drive across the city, Bryn quizzes me about what I’ve done since we last met and skilfully fields any questions about himself. His solid thigh touches my naked leg, and I swallow against the arousal the slightest touch causes. The whole situation is edged by a surrealism that’s stranger than the dreams I’ve had about Bryn – and there’ve been a few.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Nervous. I don’t like going places where there’ll be a lot of people I don’t know.”
“You’ll be fine. I’ll protect you,” he says with a small smile. “If you protect me.”
“From what?”
“Oh, you know, hordes of screaming girls wanting to get their hands on me.” He laughs at my wide-eyed response. “I’m joking. I’m not that irresistible, am I?”
Is he expecting an answer? In the dim of the taxi, I can’t read his expression so I look out of the cab window instead.
The taxi pulls up on a quiet side street and I glance around in confusion as I climb out. No building shows any sign of life, every door closed.
Until we walk around the corner. I stop dead at the edge of an area cordoned off by red rope. Bulky security in black suits stand in the small doorway, and photographers loiter nearby. A couple head past us, and I catch a glimpse of the young woman’s face beneath her platinum blonde hair. Do I recognise her? I’m sure I’ve seen her on TV. Instantly, the crowd of media shout at the couple and blinding camera lights flash.
What the hell? “Small party?” I ask sarcastically.
“Um, yeah. About that.”
My suspicions were aroused when we headed into the centre of London, and despite the unobtrusive entrance, the club is located in one of the more exclusive streets full of popular restaurants and nightspots frequented by celebrities. The number of people passing the press and heading through the cordoned off area, into the venue does not equal ‘small party’.
“Where are we?”
“Destination 1. Yvonne Tyler’s birthday. She runs one of the city’s big PR firms, has a lot of clients and this is one of her newest. Everybody who’s anybody will be here.’
“Everybody and anybody – and me,” I mutter. “I wish you hadn’t lied to me!”
“I didn’t lie. I was just economical with the truth.”
This man is infuriating. Did I miss that part before I agreed to come with him?
We’re interrupting the flow of people so I step to one side. I smooth my dress self-consciously as another expensively dressed couple pass. Amongst this crowd, I may as well have worn jeans; that’s how far removed from their celebrity dress code I am. With the matching heels, I’m a few inches taller but still nose to chest if I turn to Bryn. Our height difference makes chastising him bloody difficult.
“I’m not dressed for this!”
Bryn casts a roving look along my body. “I said before, you look good to me.”
Not as good as him. Dark designer suit over the charcoal grey shirt that fits him beautifully. The night we met, he was wearing a suit too and his usual rough and inviting aura inside tailored clothing is sexier than my hormones can handle. With no tie, his smart shirt could easily be undone to reveal the tattooed guy who I’ve mentally undressed too many times.
I am embarrassed to say, I deliberately searched for pictures of Bryn on the internet to get another look at him semi-naked.
Shameful behaviour.
But, I was successful and the pictures were bloody hot.
Bryn holds a hand in my direction. “Shall we?”
I’m seconds away from refusing and heading back to the cab. “I don’t know why I agreed to do this.”
“Because I’m awesome!” he says with a wink. “Let’s go, cariad.” He grabs my hand and may as well have jolted me with a few thousand volts, his touch surging through my body and fusing my hand to his.
We head to the front of the club, past the bouncers manning the entrance.
Cameras flash in my face and I panic. “You said they didn’t care about the drummer!”
“They’ll take a picture of anybody famous at functions like this.”
To my horror, he pauses for the cameras, slipping an arm around my waist. I never agreed to be this, and I bet the stunned look on my face will be extra flattering.
“Smile,” he whispers in my ear and I wrinkle my nose at the sensation of his warm breath against my face. Perfect, an even better look for the camera.
“Bryn!” I hiss.
“Don’t stress, I doubt you’ll be famous for longer than five minutes.”
I swallow, annoyed at my naivety. “Sure.”
“Besides, I know you. After a few drinks, you’ll be more relaxed.” He pauses. “Maybe not so relaxed you’re lying on the floor. If we could avoid that, it would help.”
“Ha bloody ha.”
Slightly stupefied, I allow him to lead me into the bright venue. To my dismay, I step onto a shiny tiled floor. Note to self: do not drink too much. Bright crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, out of place in the chrome and glass surroundings as they illuminate the square metal tables surrounded by plush chairs. Waiters walk around with flutes of champagne on trays and unidentifiable scraps of food. A crowd of beautiful people mingle, kisses floating in the air around.
I gaze up at the mezzanine floor, convinced I’ve spotted at least half of the latest reality TV stars in the two minutes since I arrived. Perspiration pools along my back despite the cool temperature. Again - what the hell am I doing here?
At least nobody looks at me.
“Bryn! Mia said you…” A middle-aged woman in a tight, short, white dress designed for women a lot younger than her, and covered in expensive diamond jewellery, halts as she sees me. “Oh. Introduce us!”
“Yvonne, this is Avery. Avery, Yvonne. PR lady extraordinaire who has arranged this little get-together for her birthday.”
“Happy Birthday.” Why has my voice descended into a squeak?
Yvonne laughs and pushes Bryn’s shoulder. “It’s a big one for me, twenty-one again!” I mentally roll my eyes. Probably for the twenty-first time.
She continues to study me, as if categorising and ticking boxes in her head. “Well, aren’t you just darling!” Yvonne air kisses me and waves goodbye with a manicured hand, back to circulating amongst her many guests.
“Does she mean Mia who’s the girl you told me about before? The one who is um.. keen on you?” I ask.
“Yeah. Still doesn’t understand the word ‘no’. She wanted me to bring her here tonight.”
“Does she know you’re bringing me?”
“She knows I’m bringing somebody.”
“Oh, God.” Images of a woman scorned and a nasty scene involving me, Mia and Bryn shudder across my mind. Avery, your stupidity knows no bounds. “Find me somewhere dark to sit.”
I shove Bryn in the direction of a quieter corner.
“Sure thing.” He wraps an arm
around my waist and guides me to a table.
Each time Bryn touches me, I’m ready to collapse into him just so I can put my hands on his body to support myself. The strength in this man matched with his gentle nature send my mind wandering back to the image of his naked chest. I swear I’m obsessed by that image. I think about that moment at least twenty times a day. Sometimes more when I’m nodding off in boring classes.
“I don’t understand what’s going on between you and her, but you’ve made me part of it by bringing me here! That’s unfair, Bryn.”
“Nothing is going on. Now I’m here with you, it will help her realise that. I bloody hope.”
We sit close and whatever woody fragrance Bryn uses is mingled with a hint of sexy rock star; the scent of the man who kissed me and who I kissed back, and wish I hadn’t. Once you’ve had a kiss like that, it’s going to be hard to find another that measures up.
“You asked me on a date to piss Mia off? Nice.”
“No, I asked you to come with me because I wanted to see you. Mia doesn’t need to know we hardly know each other; we can tell her we have a thing.”
“A ‘thing’?”
“A ‘we’re a couple’ thing.”
I swallow hard, suspicion rising over Bryn’s motives. “But I hardly know you.”
“Which is why I asked you to come with me. I want to get to know you.” He slings an arm across the back of the seat, comfortable with a situation that grows more uncomfortable for me by the second.
“I need a drink.”
“Sure thing, cariad.”
As Bryn walks away, I stare after him. People step to one side as he approaches, his physical presence reaching further than his tall frame and I’m not the only girl in the room watching him. I sigh, aware how out of my league this god of a man is to me. Why am I digging myself further into a Bryn-sized hole?
****
BRYN
Avery is cute. Funny. This package of sexy girl with a feisty way of dealing with her world is what brought me back to her. I haven’t met anybody like Avery for years, and Avery’s presence pushed Hannah into the back of my mind for a few hours last time I saw her. For the first time, somebody interrupts my thoughts of Hannah and that’s a useful quality in a girl. Shame this will only be a few weeks before we go our separate ways. Who knows, maybe this could’ve been more.
Apart from the Mia issue, if I date Avery for a couple of weeks, she’ll help me keep my hands off other chicks. If I keep going down the random hook-up route, I’m bound to end up in the wrong place with the wrong person and I do not feel like being centre stage in a scandal. So, dating Avery is the perfect solution. She’s easy-going and we could have some fun.
I grab a couple of glasses of wine from the tray passing by, and head back to Avery with the drinks. She’s partially hidden by a group of girls. One with sleek black hair, who’s not much older than Avery, attempts to catch my eye. I nod politely and switch my attention to my date for the evening.
Avery chews her short nails, glancing around like a caged animal at a zoo and guilt seeps in. I should’ve warned her but she would’ve said ‘no’. Avery doesn’t match a lot of the chicks around her but she’s attractive enough to be a convincing rock star girlfriend. I can hear Sian now, big sister admonishing my judging women on their appearance. Tough, I’m male; a chick’s brain isn’t the first thing we see.
There’s a protective streak that comes out when I’m around Avery; she’s that much smaller than me, a little over five feet. All woman, with those curves accentuated by her cute dress, shy but deceptively ballsy. I suspect some of her bravado comes from being on the shorter side. I’m fully aware of her spitfire nature. My feet got the brunt of it shortly before Christmas.
“A drink, cariad.” I set the glass on the table in front of her and sit. “They do cocktails if you’d like one.”
She pouts. “You’re so funny.”
“Okay. I’ll behave.” I sip my wine. “I have another proposition for you.”
When Avery stiffens and shifts away from me, I laugh. “Not that kind! I know this can’t be a long-term thing, with me touring soon and all, but would you consider dating for a couple of weeks?”
“Dating?”
“Coming out with me in public, so people see us as a couple, a bit like I did for you.”
“After tonight, I don’t want to do this again.”
“Oh.” I chew my mouth. “Why?”
Avery tips her head. “What possible reason would I have for wanting to come somewhere like this a second time?” She flourishes a hand at the circus around her.
“The pleasure of my company? Don’t you think it would be fun?”
“Fun? Define fun.”
“Whatever kind of fun you like, cariad,” I say in a low voice. I’m teasing but she looks away, in either disgust or embarrassment, I don’t know. “Just for a couple of weeks. I’ll take you some places you want to go, if you like?”
“Bryn, I’m busy studying. There are plenty of girls out there who would love to date a rock star for a couple of weeks, ask one of them.”
“But that’s the problem, I like your company. You’re less… complicated. Come on!”
“I agreed to a date with you, not a new career as your girlfriend!” I look back into her green eyes; she sits stiffly, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking. Have I overstepped the mark? When I first saw Avery tonight, something hovered between us, the same as the night of our first weird date. I find her hard to read. Avery shied away from looking at me the first night we were alone together, although she did seem keen on staring at my chest.
“I don’t mean it like that. I’m just being realistic about this. I told you I’m touring soon so I don’t think this could be more than some fun. Entirely up to you, but I like your company.”
Avery runs her tongue along her teeth and gives me a sour look. Now what have I said? “I’m not going to have sex with you, so I might not be much ‘fun’.”
I laugh. “Sure, no problem.”
“No kissing either!” she blurts.
“You really didn’t like that kiss, did you?”
She rubs her lips together and looks at mine; there was an enthusiasm when our mouths were on each other. “I don’t kiss people I don’t know. Not like that.”
I shuffle closer, unable to resist. “Okay. How about a kiss with no tongues?”
Avery attempts to stand. “I’ll leave if you tease me!”
“Okay. I was just checking what I was allowed to do.” I catch her arm and she sits.
Avery sips her wine, studying me with her brow tugged, refusing to give me a response.
****
AVERY
My stomach descends into my feet. How bloody stupid am I? When he said he liked me and wanted to see me, Bryn’s words had a different definition to mine. Bryn said this was a favour, and that’s exactly what he meant. He’s not interested in me outside of a bit of fun for a couple of weeks, and I can imagine what ‘bit of fun’ he means, whatever he says.
Bryn has picked the wrong girl.
Now this crazy idea that I’ll happily subject myself to public scrutiny by dating a member of Blue Phoenix. Sure, some girls would fall over their feet for the opportunity of a couple of no-strings weeks with Bryn Hughes, but I don’t think I can do this.
What would people say? Would I be in the spotlight? Or is his ‘only the drummer’ status enough to keep me under the press radar?
Problem is, I’m attracted to Bryn a hell of a lot and I don’t think he’s noticed. Dating Bryn would be like living in a world made of chocolate and being on a diet. Delicious, decadent, mouth-watering chocolate teasing me and my morals.
Great, now the naked chest is back in my mind.
“You have this all worked out, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
The more I get to know Bryn, the clearer it becomes that rock stars don’t live in the real world, but a constructed idea of how they’d like their lives to be. A
ll simple, laid out, and paid for if necessary.
Aware Bryn will continue to push the subject, and my repeated ‘no’ won’t help, I say, “Can we see how tonight goes first?”
****
Determined not to end in a heap on the tiled floor this time, I limit my number of drinks and stick to wine. The champagne flows freely, the bar crowded, and the hubbub in the room rises to shrieks of laughter.
Bryn drags us out of our hidden corner and to the edge of the throng, despite my protests. On high alert for Mia, I stand as close as I can to Bryn without touching.
“Do you honestly like these parties?” I ask him. “They don’t seem very you.”
Bryn shrugs and drinks from his designer bottle of beer. “Not often. When the four of us came to parties a few years ago, we used to have a laugh, wind up some of the beautiful people. Jem and Dylan would go one step further and take them home. Or the bathrooms.”
I pull a face. “Did you used to do that?”
“Not much. Hazy days. Stopped that shit about three years ago.” Bryn lowers his voice. “Until recently. I need you to keep me on the straight and narrow.”
Bryn and sex. Two images I try desperately to keep apart in my head but the idea of him naked and uninhibited isn’t helping the situation.
A girl around my age in a slip of a dress, heels so high I can’t figure out how she stays upright stares at us as she carefully walks past. Girls like her?
“You okay? That didn’t upset you did it?” he asks.
“What?” I return to earth and away from planet rock god. “No! Jesus, your life past or present is nothing to do with me.”
“Cool. You just looked a bit vacant for a moment there.”
“The party is overwhelming me,” I lie.
“Okay, we won’t stay long. Just long enough… Ah! There she is.”
I snap my head around to where Bryn’s looking over my shoulder. On the mezzanine above, a tall, slender girl with long brown hair looks down at us over the glass partition. I’m not close enough to see her expression but I’m willing to bet it’s a sour one. Her head disappears into the crowd and the next minute Mia strides toward us, determination on her face and a champagne flute in her hand. She flicks a look over my appearance and straightens, adjusting the strap of her short, scoop-necked, and undoubtedly expensive green dress, face indicating she’s amused by my clothes. This girl is stunning, exactly the sort whose gym-fit body should be attached to a rock star’s arm.