by Julie Archer
Unless it was the ‘with me’ part that was the issue. I kind of hoped it wasn’t.
The train journey whizzed by, the two of us just chatting shit and getting to know each other better. Finding out he’d lost his mum at the same time as I had somehow made me feel closer to him. Like we had a bond between us. I wanted him even more now.
A whole thirty-six hours in Manchester stretched out in front of us.
I yawned. “I know it’s early, but I’m not keen on going out tonight. Don’t suppose you fancy ordering up some room service and maybe watching a movie?”
“Sounds good. Although you know we’re going to argue over film choices, right?”
“What because you like chick flicks and I love action films?” It was a small joke. Being around Jonas for half my life - a gay guy who loved a bloke with muscles - we were always watching some shoot-em-up, gang related thing. Although I agreed with him, Vin Diesel was totally hot.
Tris waved the room service menu at me. “You ready to eat now? It’ll probably be half an hour or so before the food arrives anyway.”
Perhaps it had been the crappy sandwich from the train, but my stomach rumbled as if on cue in anticipation of some decent sustenance.
He laughed. “Maybe we can get them to hurry it up?”
I stuck my tongue out and crossed the living area to take the menu from him. He held it slightly out of my reach, his gaze teasing as he waved it at me.
“How much do you want it?”
You or the menu?
Being in a small confined space with someone I was getting to like more and more was obviously starting to have an effect on me. First the train and now a hotel room. With a sigh, I stopped moving and dropped my hands to my sides.
“Do you want to choose something for both of us?” I asked, dropping down onto the sofa. “I don’t really care. It’s got to be better than what we had on the train.”
His brows knitted together, and he came to sit beside me. “How about we share some calamari? Then a burger? Or there’s salad?”
I snorted. “Do you really think I look like the kind of girl who eats salad?”
“Well, you and your model friends probably follow the cigarettes and black coffee diet, so I guess you don’t need to.”
There had been other things I’d tried in the past to suppress my appetite, though it wasn’t something I wanted to discuss with Tris now. He didn’t need to know about my dalliances with drugs.
“Ooo, baked mac and cheese!” I said, pointing at the menu, my mouth already beginning to salivate at the thought of it. “Maybe I will have a salad with it though. Dinner tomorrow night will probably be several courses and I need to look hot in my dress.”
“You’ll look hot anyway.”
Tris’ statement stuck out in the silence of the room. If we’d have been in a bar or a restaurant, there would have been background noise to cover up my reaction, which turned out to be an involuntary gasp.
There was an awkward pause. Then both of us started talking at once about what drinks we should get, before we both ground to a halt again.
“I’m sorry,” Tris began. “I didn’t mean… well, you are hot…” He trailed off, that same flush creeping back up his neck. “Shall we order up the food and stop talking?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I quite like you telling me how hot I am.” The words slipped from my lips before I knew what had happened. I felt my own cheeks flame. Before my treacherous mouth could get me into even more trouble, I took the menu from him and stood up, moved towards the desk where the phone was and ordered what we wanted.
It was going to be at least half an hour before the food would be ready and I decided to take a shower. At least it would stop me saying things I didn’t know if I could come back from. As I stripped off my clothes, I was aware Tris was only the other side of the closed door. There was a part of me that wished he would join me while I was showering.
How had a fake-make-the-public-love-me-again relationship got me worked up like this?
The outrageous flirting and over-the-top behaviour I’d demonstrated with Troy Carson hadn’t ignited anything in me. But the small exchanges with Tris, the brief conversations, our first ‘date’, did.
I couldn’t talk to Rosie about it, because that would mean telling her the truth and exposing Tris and I as fake.
For the first time in a long while, I really didn’t know what to do.
My mind still worked overtime the whole evening as we ate dinner and channel hopped through a myriad of old comedy series episodes. I couldn’t seem to settle on anything and kept changing channels every time there was an advert break.
It was on the fifth or sixth time I did it, Tris reached out and took the remote from me.
“Seriously, Saff, can we at least watch one whole episode of something?”
I sighed. “Sorry. I can’t seem to find anything to hold my attention. Maybe we should go out after all?”
“It’s nearly half past nine.”
“Yeah, it’s still early.”
Tris’ eyebrows shot up. “Early? Are you serious?”
“What? Sometimes I don’t go out until after eleven.” I shrugged.
“That’s closing time where I’m from.” Tris laughed. “I’d be heading home to bed and you’d be starting your night.”
Suddenly, the thought of being in bed with Tris was all I could think about. I wished he wasn’t so adamant about sleeping on the sofa.
“You’ve clearly never lived.” I jumped up, trying to put some distance between us to stop the images currently flooding my brain. I stood at the bottom of the stairs which led up to the mezzanine level. “I could get changed, we could go and get a couple of drinks…”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I frowned at him. “Why not?”
“Because tomorrow will be a long day and I don’t want to spend the whole time with a crappy hangover and not be able to enjoy spending it with you.”
His words stopped me in my tracks. My overactive imagination kicked in again. He was going to enjoy spending the day with me? Did that mean he did actually like me too?
“You sound like Jonas,” I blustered. “He’s always saying that sort of thing to make me take the right action.”
“Sorry to be a party pooper.”
“You’re not. You’re right.” I headed back to the sofa and dropped down next to him, picking up the remote. “Let’s find a film.”
We settled on a romantic comedy which I’d seen about a million times, not that I’d admit it to Tris. I found myself beginning to relax, so much so I ended up with my head resting on Tris’ shoulder. After a while, my eyelids began to droop and before long I started to fall asleep.
I woke as the credits rolled.
“Good film then?” Tris’ mouth quirked.
“Ha ha, very funny.” I noticed there was a little patch of drool on the sleeve of his t-shirt. Oh God, how embarrassing. I got off the sofa and headed for the stairs. “Clearly I needed the sleep. I’m going to bed. Night, Tris, see you in the morning.”
His beautiful hazel eyes twinkled as he replied. “Night, Saff, sleep well.”
Oh, I doubted I’d get a whole bunch of sleep thinking of him downstairs.
18
Tris
Despite repeated efforts to get comfortable, I had one of the worst night’s sleep I’d had in a long time. I tossed and turned, my head spinning. During the previous day, I’d let slip a few things that could lead Saff to believe I thought this was more than a business arrangement. I wondered what she thought; if she had any of the same feelings? I knew I was being ridiculous. Why would someone like Saff Barnes be interested in someone like me?
Around seven thirty, I admitted defeat and stuck the TV on, finding a sports news channel to entertain me. I made some coffee from the machine and pods on the side, and sat cross-legged on the sofa, the blanket draped loosely around my hips.
“Did I hear you making coffee?” Saff�
��s voice floated down the stairs.
“Do you have bat like hearing?”
“You were crashing around so noisily down there; I couldn’t fail to hear you.” There was a pause. “I’m coming down, are you decent?”
I glanced down at my boxers: no holes, nothing poking out that shouldn’t be. “I guess.”
Even if I hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have had an opportunity to do anything about it as Saff came bounding down the stairs. She was dressed in skimpy knickers and a vest top which made it obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra. I could barely tear my eyes away from her clearly erect nipples. Hurriedly, I took a sip of the too hot coffee and burned the roof of my mouth.
She stood at the coffee machine and I got ample opportunity to study her. The way her pert arse was barely covered by her bright red pants, the tattoo between her shoulder blades, the pink hair woven into a messy bun.
I grabbed a cushion and placed it over my lap, resting the coffee mug on it, desperately trying not to get aroused.
Shit, she wasn’t exactly trying to hide herself around me, was she?
“This coffee is rank.” Saff whirled around, her face screwed up. “I need proper stuff. Let’s go out for breakfast. I’ll go and throw some clothes on.”
Don’t! You don’t have to do that. Let’s stay in instead, have breakfast delivered to the room.
Luckily, she appeared not to be able to hear my inner thoughts as she shot back upstairs. I waited for a couple of beats to make sure everything had died down before I got up and went to the bathroom with my own clothes.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. How on earth was I in a luxury hotel room with someone as gorgeous as Saff Barnes? My lack of sleep told me I wasn’t dreaming.
“Hurry up, Tris! I’m gagging for a decent coffee.” Saff hammered on the bathroom door, knocking me out of my reverie.
I did as she asked and quickly splashed some soap and water under my armpits before spraying on deodorant and a puff of aftershave. I’d sort myself out properly before the dinner this evening.
“What took you so long?” complained Saff, when I came out of the bathroom a few minutes later.
She was sitting cross-legged on the sofa as I had been, an unlit cigarette in one hand. She was dressed slightly more respectably now in a pair of skin-tight patterned leggings, a t-shirt with a deep V at the front, which almost revealed her bra, and an embroidered denim jacket. Her feet were clad in a pair of glittery Converse.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” I shoved my boxers and washing kit into my bag.
“I’m joking. But I do need a fag, so…”
I grabbed my own jacket, picked up the key card and we went downstairs.
The moment we left the hotel, Saff lit up, smoke spiralling around her. It was chilly, and few people were out and about in Manchester on Saturday morning. If anything, there were probably more people ending their night rather than starting their day. The location of the hotel wasn’t lost on me. In the heart of the city’s gay village, I imagined Jonas had probably stayed there on more than a number of occasions.
We strolled alongside the canal, checking out the bars and clubs until we stumbled across a van selling bacon baps and sausage sandwiches.
Saff’s eyes lit up. “Fuck getting a proper breakfast, this will do.” She dropped the remains of her cigarette on the ground and snuffed it out with her heel.
I laughed. At least I could offer to pay for breakfast without my meagre bank balance wincing. We ordered two with the works and more coffee. If I drank much more, I wondered if I’d ever get to sleep again. We found a bench to sit on and devoured the baps in record time.
“Oh, God, this coffee is amazing. Hey, are you guys open tomorrow?” she shouted at the people in the van.
“Sorry, love, not on a Sunday.”
Her face dropped.
“I guess you’ll have to make do with hotel coffee in the morning.” I took the empty wrapper and napkin from her and deposited them in the nearest bin.
“Ugh. Not a chance. I’d rather wait until we got to the station.” Hearing a notification, Saff pulled her phone from her bag. She rolled her eyes. “Jonas is checking up on us. Making sure we arrived okay and we’ve got the tickets for tonight. It’s like I’ve never been away before. Seriously, he knows about the trouble we had on our last tour. Darren lost the hotel bookings schedule and we didn’t know where we were meant to be staying. I don’t think Jonas trusts me after that.”
It was funny to think of Saff on tour with her band. I’d read about famous groups touring and I doubted TheSB would have had the same luxurious bus with all the trimmings as some of the biggest rock icons of our time. Probably more a man with a van and lots of stops in motorway service stations.
“I think maybe Jonas doesn’t trust you anyway,” I said slowly. I wasn’t sure how she was going to react to what I was going to say next.
“What do you mean?” Her eyes narrowed.
“Well, would I be sitting here with you right now if he did? Wouldn’t you be here with, oh, I don’t know, someone like Troy Carson?”
Saff let out a hard breath. “You’re probably right. He wouldn’t have suggested this pretend relationship thing if he did trust me.” Her shoulders sagged and she seemed deflated.
“Sorry you got stuck with me.”
She turned to me, her chocolate brown eyes studying mine. “There are worse people I could have been stuck with. Jonas could have found me one of his gay friends and we could have covered for each other.” Saff reached for my hand and ran her thumb across my knuckles. “I’m not sorry at all. And it’s you that’s stuck with me. You probably have a queue of beautiful girls waiting to go out with you.”
I stared at her hand in mine. Her skin was soft and her light touches sent my senses into overdrive.
“Ha ha, as if,” I bluffed. I hadn’t had a serious girlfriend in over two years. A few dates here and there, something which lasted around six months, but no-one special. No-one that affected me quite as much as Saff Barnes did.
I wondered how long we’d have to keep the relationship going until Jonas deemed Saff was redeemed and ready to return to her normal behaviour.
As she continued to caress my knuckles, I hoped it was going to be a very, very long time.
19
Saff
We spent the day puttering around the city, chatting, shopping, stopping for drinks and generally behaving like any other normal couple in the first flushes of a new relationship.
Whoa there, where did that come from?
I was getting ready for the evening, having had a lovely relaxing bath in the enormous tub and maybe a glass of wine or two. Tris had offered to go down to the bar to let me have the room for a while so I could pamper myself. He really had been like the perfect boyfriend. It had been a long time since anyone had treated me so well. Sure, I played the bad girl who didn’t care about being with someone and managed to flirt my way into trouble a lot of the time. Which is how I’d ended up here, really. Was it possible Jonas had, inadvertently, found me a guy I wanted to be with on a long-term basis?
Of course, I had no idea if Tris felt the same way or if he simply saw me as a meal ticket. After all, the deal Jonas proposed had been pretty sweet. But in the time we’d spent together, he’d appeared genuine. Unless he was an excellent actor.
I sat at the dressing table in the bedroom, the lights around the mirror switched on to give me more clarity while I applied my makeup.
My outfit was hanging up on the wardrobe door. There was a simple black satin slip dress that finished mid-thigh, embellished with black sequins which would be teamed with a longer black and gold embroidered velvet coat which skimmed just below my knees. A pair of killer heels also in black and gold would probably cripple me, but it would be worth it. I had a black leather choker with a gold lock and gold hoop earrings as jewellery, plus a small black crushed velvet clutch. Rosie had helped me to pick the outfit, knowing I wanted to go for sexy an
d bad-assy at the same time. And I think it hit the mark.
I heard the door to the room open.
“Saff? You nearly ready?” Tris called up the stairs. “The Uber will be here in ten.”
“Sure, give me five,” I called back.
True to form, it was closer to twenty by the time I was actually ready. I could hear Tris placating the driver as I fussed about making sure I looked perfect. Finally, I headed downstairs.
Tris’ jaw hung slack as I reached the bottom step, his eyes growing wide. I stumbled slightly and he rushed to make sure I didn’t fall. Crushed against his chest, I got a faint waft of his aftershave and almost swooned.
Stepping back, I remembered the picture he’d sent me of him in his suit and it was even better in the flesh. The cut of the dark, charcoal grey suit fitted his body perfectly and complimented my outfit as well.
“You look…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, looking somewhat like a fish out of water as he struggled to find the right words.
“As do you.” I quirked a smile at him. “We should go before the Uber driver disappears.”
He extended a hand and I took it, the warmth of his skin brushing against mine.
I had a feeling it was going to be a good night.
“Saff! Saff! Over here!”
“Who’s your new boyfriend?”
“Are you and Troy Carson still seeing each other?”
I ignored the catcalls and questions from the small group of paparazzi waiting outside The Monastery Manchester. I figured smiling and being polite would get me less column inches. Or at least keep me out of trouble. Mentally, I shook my head at the questions. As if I’d be seeing Troy if I was at an event with another man.
Tris clutched my hand tightly as we walked in. I figured he must be nervous, having probably never been to an event like this before, let alone with someone like me.
A waitress approached us, holding a tray of champagne with one hand. “Can I interest you in a drink?” she asked. “Table plans are over there and the lots for the auction are at the back of the Great Nave.” She gestured with her free hand.