Authors: Alice Severin
Tristan gave a brief, ironic laugh. “Nick, my friend, it’s been pretty awful. I know publicity is good, but not for everything, if you know what I mean.” He looked over at me. “I’m used to it, mostly. But Lily doesn’t need this, not right away, anyhow. And it was supposed to be a secret visit, at least until the ticket giveaway tomorrow. But someone didn’t read the fine print, I guess.” He sounded angry. “Anyway, Nick. Thank you man, so much. Do you mind if we take a shower? I’m wound up, and Lily just got here—be nice to wash off some of stresses of modern life.” He laughed again, and Nick, who had been hanging on his words, like he’d been let into some great secret, seemed to remember where he was.
“Sure. Of course. Mi casa and all that. Don’t stand on ceremony.” He held out his hand, and Tristan took it in both of his, and looked at him. “Look after Lily,” Nick continued, “I think she’s knackered.”
Tristan smiled. “Got it covered.”
Nick nodded to him. “Now I’ve got my own wifey to keep an eye on. Sleep well you two.” He had just turned and was at the door, when he looked back at us. “Should I keep an eye out tomorrow for souvenir hunters, that kind of thing? Not opening the door?”
Tristan looked a bit guilty. “It couldn’t hurt, man. I’m really sorry about all this. Are you sure you’re up for it?”
Nick just looked at him. “Any friend of Lily’s is our friend. Don’t even think about it. Go get her, before she falls over.” And he looked at me. “Nighty night, Lily. Get some sleep, tonight, ok?” And he winked and pulled the door nearly shut behind him.
The minute he left, Tristan pulled me into his arms and held me there, my head against his chest, his arms circling me, his mouth against my hair. “I missed you today, Lily. I couldn’t play the star game properly today, I kept thinking of you, thinking of this morning. Nothing seemed that much fun.” I held on to him tightly. I just wanted to stay like this, listening to his deep voice rumbling in his chest, feeling him breathing next to me. “I knew what you were doing all day, because Dave had given me your whole itinerary. But I couldn’t warn you, or tell you what to expect. It wouldn’t have helped anyway. You know? You believe me, right?” I nodded against him. “You’re tired, darling. We can talk about all this tomorrow. I don’t have to be anywhere until twelve—I’ve got to pop into a couple of radio shows for the giveaway, and your first is with the famous Trevor, at twelve thirty. See, I know all these things. Not just a pretty face. I think your girlfriend thinks I am though.” He stopped for a minute, and held my face between his hands. “What do you think?”
I was thinking a lot of things, but none of them seemed to make sense, and none of them were reaching my mouth. Instead I said the one thing I knew was true, the one thing I wanted. “Kiss me. Just kiss me.”
His eyes glittered for a moment, and then he was kissing me, and all I could feel were his soft lips on mine, gentle, and warm, and it was though I’d been waiting for it my whole life. He was soft and sweet, and quiet, and he smelled good, and he tasted better and it was though the sun had come out, everywhere, all over. He pulled away finally, and dropped a kiss on my nose. “Lily. You let me in.” He kissed me again, quickly. “Could this mean you trust me? A little? Imagine.” He took off his jacket, and his boots, then looked at me. “Doll, let’s go shower. I’m exhausted.” He winked at me. “You’re still surprised, aren’t you?”
I reached out for his hand. “Wouldn’t you be?”
He looked serious for a moment. “Maybe I would, at that. I don’t know. Lily, it does no good to overthink things. We both do it. But where does it get us? Come on. Hot water is calling me.” And he pulled at my hand and we walked back down the stairs to the bathroom, hand in hand. Nick and Sarah were nowhere to be seen, which was fine with me. I didn’t want to be stared at anymore.
We both managed to fit into the shower, if we changed places under the water. The rounded lavender purple soap bar looked good against his pale skin, my tired brain thought, as I rolled it around his balls, and over his thighs and down to his muscular calves, and back up again. It was nice washing him, I thought. He was beautiful. Washing just for washing. His body was hard, but his eyes were velvet and deep, and they looked observant and thoughtful and tired, not intense. He soaped me carefully, the way he had dried himself off that time in his bathroom. I thought of his apartment, sitting there silent, empty, waiting for his return. Would we be in it again? I looked at his dark head, down at his huge hands covering my breasts, sliding down over my hips, between my legs, where it was still sore. I jumped a little. “It’s ok, darling,” he whispered, “gently now,” and his fingers were soft and probing and it felt good, so good. But he stopped, and carried on washing my legs, picking up each foot and circling his fingers around each toe. All the tension in my body was easing away under his touch. At last he rinsed us off, and shut off the water. “Come on, I won’t bite,” and his low voice was a fire, warming me, as I shut my eyes, feeling the towel wrapped around my body, and his hands, rubbing briskly at my skin. He tucked the dark blue towel in on itself around me, and did the same for the lighter blue towel, which was wrapped at a dangerous angle around his hips, and took my hand again, after scooping up our clothes.
He led the way back up the stairs, my hand tight in his, and pushed open the door with his body, dropping the pile of clothes on the floor. “Later,” he said, and led me over to the bed. He pulled down the comforter, and turned to me and peeled away my towel. “Beautiful,” he murmured, “a beautiful woman, on a beautiful night.” And his eyes traced over my nakedness, over all of me, and I was shocked to realize I didn’t feel embarrassed, like I would usually. Like I had with Nick. This wasn’t the same. His eyes were magic, making me feel special, glowing under his admiration.
I looked up at his face, and his expression was serious. “I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t expect this.” And he kissed me, slowly, his lips brushing against mine. He stopped and stared into me, through me. “But that doesn’t make it less powerful. In fact, the opposite. I think.” He pulled off his towel and let it drop to the floor. He was stunning, his milky skin shining in the half light from the moon that was all that lit the room now. I couldn’t help it; I ran my hand over his torso, soft and hard, down to his thighs, up over his silken cock, and back up to his face, where I let my hand trace his nose, his fine cheekbones, his brows over those dark, intelligent eyes. He kissed my hand. “That’s it. You see all of me, but you finish at my eyes. Like you know that’s where what you’re looking for will be.” He opened my palm and placed his lips on the center of my palm. “It’s so rare, darling, and that you don’t even realize makes it even more so.” He held me to him, his skin soft and lavender smelling, and I sighed. There was nothing to say, nothing that needed to be said. Words would only push it away. He bent down and kissed my neck. “Bed. Now. You need to be held, and that’s why I’m here.” He climbed into bed first, always on the left, I thought to myself, with a smile, and I clambered in after him, the sheets cool and smooth, his body warm and alive, and he pulled me into him, and we lay there, floating together. I finally spoke.
“Tristan?” I whispered.
“Yes?” His breath was warm on my skin.
“Thank you.” My voice broke over the words.
“Oh love.” He hugged me to him. “It’s not just for you darling, but you’re welcome. So welcome.” He kissed me, soft and ticklish and gentle again. “Now sleep. I’m here.”
And I curled up against him, and let the smell of his skin, lavender and dark, drift me to sleep.
Chapter 11
The next morning I woke early, the sun shining in through the sheer curtains, a grey yellow fog, but warm. I blinked away the sleep from my eyes until everything began to focus a little again, then looked over at the long curved back of Tristan, rolled away from me slightly, half-uncovered. I pulled the duvet back over the two of us, then wished I hadn’t, so I could have admired the pale silky nakedness of his back, dotted here and there with moles. There was a tattoo at the line between his hip and back as well that I had wanted to examine a little more closely. But I wasn’t going to uncover him. The need to protect him in some way was fierce; it was stronger than either my desire or my curiosity. He had come to my rescue last night, when I was sinking back into that abyss, the one that I wasn’t going to tell him about, the same darkness that came to claim me on a regular basis, and always threatened the heart of anything I was doing. At this point in life, I was pretty sure I knew where it came from, and why, but as they said, the knowing didn’t help. But he had seemed to get all this, without long explanations or questions.
I stared at the back of his head, his dark hair tangled, the whiteness of his scalp visible in places where the roots threw his hair up in different directions. All the things that went on in there. I wondered if it was hard for him, being an object, a pretty screen to project a million and one fantasies onto, few of them ever taking him in as a person. His words from last night came back to me—“stopping at my eyes.” It had never occurred to me not to do it. His words, like his music, could make me cry. There was something like intelligent magic in what he did that ignored all the pretenses and broke through.
I watched his back rise and fall with his calm breathing for a while, then slipped out of bed as quietly as I could to use the bathroom. I didn’t want to wake them up either. Nick and Sarah, no matter how nice they had been, would be awake soon enough with more questions. My head hurt, and I didn’t feel like talking, or explaining. I managed to get downstairs and in the bathroom without hitting too many of the creaky wide wood floor boards. I drank some water from the tap and splashed my face, taking a bit of toothpaste to run around my mouth. When I turned off the water, I heard nothing. But when I opened the door, there was Nick, smiling at me, dressed in only a t-shirt and boxers. I jumped, but he raised a finger to his lips, smiling. “We always were the early risers, weren’t we?” I nodded, reluctantly. He carried on. “Do you want a cup of tea?” I really didn’t want to talk, but my head was on fire.
“Yeah, that’d be great. Have you got any aspirin?”
“Oh you Yanks and your aspirin. Hurting from last night? You looked like you’d been hitting it when we met up.” His face was lit up, teasing. Just the tone of his voice was making it worse.
I grimaced. “No, look, never mind, I’m just going to crawl back up to bed. I’ll come down later.” I shook my head and started to move towards the stairs, towards sanctuary, but Nick reached out and stopped me.
“Hey no, don’t go. I won’t tease. There’s some paracetamol in the bathroom, hang on, I’ll get it.” He stepped into the bathroom and opened the cupboard, more pine, I thought, it’s everywhere, so domestic, and opened a bottle of max strength, placing two into my hand. “There you go.”
“Thanks Nick, you guys have been great.”
“Yeah yeah, no problem. It’s not every day you find out your ex is shagging one of the most desirable, in demand rock stars in the world.”
I smiled, shrugging. There was nothing to say.
Nick carried on. “He’s really got you under his thumb, doesn’t he? All that stuff with the green tea last night. Looking after you, or controlling you, Lily? Which is it?”
I bristled, and damped down the “oh go fuck yourself” I so wanted to launch at him. My tone was flat. “Thanks for caring, Nick. Glad to know you’re still looking out for me as well. Now I’m going to lie down for bit, and kill this headache, and Sarah is probably awake and listening to you, wondering how long you’re going to be out here showing off your boxers.” I smiled, mask like. “We’ll talk later, right?” And I turned and walked up the stairs, without really waiting for his answer. I really didn’t need his concern right now. They weren’t going to be ok with all this, were they? And I thought of something I’d read a while ago about someone who had become famous, and his old friends had claimed he had changed, and was a prima donna, when apparently all he had wanted to do was hang out with them like they always had, just be friends. He hadn’t changed so much, as they had, in relation to his new status. And he had to stop seeing them mostly, because all their interactions were either snarky comments or requests, for tickets, contacts, stuff, money. I’d never really seen that from this side. I did know that you needed fucking nerves of steel to get anywhere and leave the circle you started in, I knew that, but now I was beginning to feel how much that might cost.
Oh my head, I thought, as a sharp pain cut through it. I blinked. Not going to think. Hurts. I tiptoed into the bedroom, and grabbed the water bottle, and threw down both tablets, and drank. I had a sudden moment of panic. Suppose they weren’t what he said they were? Ridiculous paranoia. And angrily I pushed it aside, annoyed with myself for giving in to irrational fears and went to shake out the clothes. It looked like they were going to do double duty today. Or was I going to have to swing by the hotel? We needed to figure out the sleeping arrangements, because I had the feeling our stay here was a one night illusion.
I crawled back into bed, glad I’d run toothpaste around my mouth, and was careful not to touch him with my cold hands. I breathed in. He smelled warm, like sleep and skin and sex. Delicious. I closed my eyes, and tried to will my headache away, thinking calm open Zen thoughts.