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. All 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.
“Hey, Mia,” says Bryn and I tense as he slides an arm around my waist.
Her full, perfectly painted red lips purse as she shakes her glossy hair over one shoulder. “Another of your one-night hook ups?”
“Nope.” Bryn pulls me into his side. “Not Avery, she's special.”
Still not addressing me, Mia sips delicately on her champagne. “Funny, I haven't seen her at your place.” She narrows her eyes at me then a slow smile plays at the corner of her mouth. “Does she know about the other girls? She doesn’t look like the kind of girl who’d be happy to share you.”
A muscle in Bryn's cheek twitches and he avoids my eyes, Mia’s words crushing my remaining dream about this becoming a relationship. “We split for a couple of weeks and recently reconnected.”
I attempt to shuffle away from him but his grip tightens again. Mia watches with a curious smile and Bryn is going to have to try harder to convince his friend.
“Right,” she says.
“It's true. I'm serious about her, Mia. There's just something about Avery I can't explain.”
Obviously because you hardly know me
. He strokes a strand of hair from my cheek and I shiver at the spark this sets off across my face. The gentle way he rests a hand on my hip is too natural and unfair. Is he expecting me to touch him in return? I'm more than willing and with each glass of wine; the voice suggesting I throw myself at him grows.
“Hmm.” Mia's disbelief continues.
“You'll be seeing a lot more of her if you don't move out.”
Mia skulls her champagne and runs her tongue across her teeth. “I'm leaving soon, you know that.”
A guy appears behind Mia, tall and muscular, similar to Bryn in a lot of ways apart from his crew cut. He has the same sharp features but his nose looks as if it's been broken a few times. He grins at Bryn and holds out a hand.
“Hey, mate.”
They shake and Mia indicates him with her manicured hand. “Dave Green. My date.” She emphasises the word ‘date’ and arches a brow at Bryn.
“Thought I recognised you. Rugby? You're in the England team, aren't you?” asks Bryn.
“Yeah. You follow the rugby?”
“Welsh boy.” He smiles. “Guess we're natural enemies.”
“Oh, silly!” Mia giggles and wraps an arm around Dave's huge forearm. “You don't have to fight!”
“We're kidding, Mia,” says Bryn with a sigh.
“As long as you don't mind me spending time with your girl,” Dave says, placing his hand on Mia's ass. “Don't want to fight you over her.”
“Not sure. Are you okay with that, Avery?” Bryn asks.
Transfixed by the situation in front of me, I don't respond until Bryn pokes me in the side and I jump. “What?”
“You’re my girl and Dave wants to spend time with you.”
“Really?” Again with the bloody squeaking.
The heavyset man rubs his cheek and looks between me and Mia. “Nah. I mean Mia. You telling me you got two girls, Bryn?” He laughs. “Rock stars…”
“He lives with me, but I'm a free agent,” says Mia.
“
You
live with
me
.”
“But do you all share a bed?” asks Dave with a leer. “Bryn. Seriously, man.”
“No! I haven't been in Bryn's bed!” I retort. Dave runs an interested look along my body. Oh God, he'll ask to join in next.
“Is that right?” asks Mia. “Very strange for you, Bryn, dating a girl who doesn’t spend time in your bed.”
Bryn laughs and his soft lips brush my mouth, stunning me into silence. “She means in my London place. We’ve shared a bed plenty of times, haven't we? I don't need two girls. Avery is more than I can handle.”
What the hell?
“You know I'm a private person, Bryn! Don't discuss our sex life!” I desperately attempt to hide the pink creeping from my neck to my chest.
The sparkle in Bryn's eyes had better not be amusement. “Sorry, cariad. I forget myself sometimes.”
When he kisses my cheek, Mia makes a soft sound of derision. Already despairing at my bad social skills, the best course of action at this point is to walk away. “I need the bathroom.” I pull away from Bryn's grasp and beat a hasty but careful retreat across the slippery floor.
This is the first bathroom I've ever been in that has seats. Leather seats, flowers, and baskets of individually wrapped Yardley soaps. I catch sight of myself in the full-length mirrors and I look like a stunned rabbit caught in the lights of the rich and famous train powering toward me. What am I doing here?
As I wash my hands in the rectangular marble sink with my tiny soap, I scramble to catch up. It's one thing for Bryn to ‘sort of date’ me, another to start talking about our sex life, and off my one track mind goes again, straight into Bryn's bed.
A middle-aged woman in a smart suit approaches and passes me a soft, white towel, confusing me until I realise she's a staff member.
“Thanks,” I mutter and hastily dry my hands. I can't even be alone to compose myself in the bathrooms.