Several people watch me as I head in the direction of the side doors, but I don’t give a shit. I haven't had enough to drink to deal with the emotions this event and place pull to the surface.
Wales.
A wedding.
People from school, most of whom I haven't seen for years. I avoid them, classmates who share my history with the girl who should be with me.
Gritting my teeth, I reach the door. Through the glass, I see snow covering the ground, the smattered powdering from before now changed to piles against nearby walls.
Maybe I won't go outside.
I rest against the wall and stare at the hideous maroon and cream patterned wallpaper opposite, and take deep breaths. I should go back to my hotel room before my miserable bastard attitude rubs off on anybody else.
I'm close to the kitchen door and Avery heads out with an arm full of dinner plates. Her delicate features are pulled into a look of heavy concentration. She’s cute. I'm reminded of my damp trousers and her beetroot red face when she attempted to dry my crotch, giving me a great view of her ample tits as she leaned forward.
Is she a Blue Phoenix fan? I hope so because that'll make this easier. In the past, my status has helped get me laid, about time I started again. The girl heads off with the plates and my imagination follows her.
Chapter Five
AVERY
Weddings.
My least favourite function to work. Family feuds lurking below the respectable surface are unearthed by copious amounts of alcohol, and this makes weddings unpredictable on a number of levels. The noise in the room grows louder as the day grows later. Attempting to shut down any desire by my body to respond to the rock star hormonal attack, I hold my breath as I edge around their table to collect plates and hand out desserts. I don’t know if Bryn gives me any more ‘looks’ because I won’t ‘look’ at him. I plead with Kim to serve the coffee because my ability to control liquid tonight hasn’t been great, and I’m convinced I’ll end up scalding someone who won’t be as understanding.
The bright sunshine of the day disappears into a winter’s evening. The snow remains thick on the ground and looks set to stay that way. At least, with no new falls today, the taxi I need to get home will be able to reach the castle.
The room is rearranged, furniture pushed back to open up the dance floor and prepare for the evening. Guests in various rates of inebriation either dance or loiter around the tables and when I return from the kitchen, the bride and groom have already taken to the dance floor.
More couple happiness.
Ugh
.
I head out to swap empty water jugs for the full ones I’m carrying in each hand. The Blue Phoenix band members have split up, Dylan and his girlfriend dance, and Jem plus his red-haired girlfriend are head to head in the corner. No Bryn. What makes somebody like him come to a wedding alone? Surely, he’d have no shortage of volunteers to attend with him. Hell, I bet he could’ve auctioned off the spot to the highest bidder.
Liam’s extended family occupies two tables close by and although most are older, I’ve noticed a couple of dewy-eyed girls watching Bryn. The cliché about best man and bridesmaid is out; one of them is five and the other currently has her face glued to another guy. I put a jug of water on the table and lean across to pick up the empty one.
Somebody squeezes my ass then proceeds to slide a hand up the back of my short skirt toward a place that definitely isn’t my ass, or accidental.
I twist around, smacking the hand away. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
A guy with short-brown hair and eyes awash with alcohol smiles at me. “Just being friendly, love.”
I gape. “Friendly? That’s assault!”
He laughs at me. “Calm down!”
Too late, my brain has tripped my body into shaking anger and disgust, away from rational reactions. I grab the full water jug and tip the contents slowly over his head. For a moment, he remains seated, confusion flowing across his face to match the water flowing down his back. Gathering his wits, the guy jumps up.
“What the hell are you doing?” he shouts and gestures to the other table occupants. “Look at what she did!”
He looks at the middle-aged couple next to him who stare at me in a similar stupefied fashion. Through the dimly lit room, I’m aware the spectacle I’ve created has attracted the attention of the majority of the wedding guests. And my boss.
****
Attempting to quell the adrenaline racing through my system, I rest against the stone wall with my thick, black jacket wrapped around me. I won’t be able to stay outside long. My toes already feel the bite of the cold, but if I remain inside, my bad evening would get infinitely worse. Worse than losing my job? Probably, because when the stupid cow sacked me, the things she said riled me so badly I wanted to slap her. I’m not a violent person but tonight has tested my limits.
I breathe deeply and look at the stars that manage to peek out from behind the grey clouds, watching my breath fog in front of me. At least this isn’t my real job, another semester at uni and I can look for something more worthwhile. Something away from spillable liquids.
The door creaks open behind and a tall figure appears next to me. “You okay?”
I jerk my head round in surprise and meet the concerned eyes of Bryn, simultaneously losing all the oxygen from my lungs.
I clear my throat. “I will be.”
“Bad night, huh?” he asks and rests against the wall next to me.
“You could say that,” I reply with a small laugh.
Bryn’s jacket-less, the heavy muscles of his forearms stretching the fabric of the white shirt underneath. He’s dispensed with the tie he wore earlier and his smooth, defined chest is visible where the top buttons of his shirt are undone.
Hello again, hormones.
“You checking me out, Avery?” he asks.
“No.”
“‘Course not.”
I pull my jacket tighter and bury my nose into the padded material.
Well, maybe a little.
We stand in silence for a couple of minutes while I attempt to figure out exactly why he’s outside in the freezing weather. I’m pretty sure he hasn’t just been abused and sacked.
“Bad night for you, too?” I ask eventually.
“Nah. It’s good to see Liam happy and spend time with the guys. We’ve been apart a fair bit recently.”
“Yeah?” I’m not a huge Blue Phoenix fan. I could take or leave their music and I don’t pay attention to their career path.
“It’s been weird. I’m not used to living outside of the band. Everything’s changing.” Bryn rests against the wall next to me.
“People change.”
“Yeah, they grow up and get married.”
This is one weird conversation, never mind the fact he’s choosing to have it with me. “Not wild enough for you anymore?”
Bryn laughs and pushes some of the curls from his face. “I’m not into wild. Never was really. No, I mean best friends becoming couples and…” He pauses. “Nah.”
“And not you?”
He side glances me. “Possibly.”
“Well, if it’s any comfort, I know exactly where you’re coming from.”
“How’s that?”
“Most of my friends have paired off. Well, I’m at uni and come home to find some engaged, others with babies, and it’s weird. Three years ago, we all hung out doing stupid stuff together. It’s like they’re different people.”
“And you haven’t hooked up with anyone? No special guy in your life?”
I bury my nose back in my jacket. Bryn addles my brain. I never paid attention to him before. I’m ashamed to admit I bought into the Dylan Morgan fantasies, but up close, Bryn certainly competes. I can’t figure out why; I mean, yeah, he’s solid muscle and wasn’t exactly hit with the ugly stick, but he exudes something. Star power? Confidence? My proximity to him triggers weird reactions and he hasn’t touched me.
Nor is he going to.
“I hope that’s not a suggestion,” I say.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not with anyone but I’m not your best bet for tonight. I think you’ll find plenty of takers inside.”
“Me? Like Dylan said, not my style when it comes to matters of the heart.”
“What’s your style?”
Bryn’s mouth tips at one corner. “My style... Hmm.” Why does he insist on picking up any comment that could possibly be an innuendo? “I have different tastes.”
I splutter. “Who are you? Christian Grey?”
Oh, crap, maybe he is like that
.
Bryn shifts sideways and pauses long enough to let me squirm. “No. Why? Are you looking for a Christian Grey?”
“You mean do I want someone to tie me up and humiliate me?”
Jesus, Avery, shut up.
“Ignore me. I don’t know why I said that.”
“I don’t know, Avery. I came to see if you were okay, not discuss your sexual perversions.”
“I do not have sexual perversions!” I retort. “Anyway, we weren’t talking about me.”
Bryn’s gaze shifts to the snow. “Do you want me to get you a drink? You look like you need one.”
“I’m going home, waiting for my taxi.”
“I can’t persuade you to stay and chat?”
“I just got sacked and told to leave the premises!”
Why the hell would Bryn Hughes want to chat with me? I think I can guess.
“So?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve had enough. I want to go home. I have another evening of fun and games tomorrow.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, yearly get-together where I’m the one member of the gang who’s not a couple. I’m looking forward to it immensely.”
“Better than being at a wedding as the only member of the gang, not a couple,” he says and scuffs some snow with his boot.
“I’m sure you could’ve brought someone.”
“I could, but I didn’t. There were options, but I don’t want to be seen with anyone famous and dragged into the media, easier to just come on my own.”
I pull a face to indicate I still think it’s odd. “Well, I can beat that,” I reply. “My evening tomorrow? My ex and my ex-best friend will be there. Together.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. Bitch.”
Bryn quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, feisty.”
“No, she’s a bitch. He wasn’t my ex when she started screwing him.”
“Ohhh…Yeah, bitch.” He grins and I grin back. “I hope you’re meeting your friends somewhere public; it could end up nasty if you aren’t.”
“Local Italian place.”
“You live nearby?”
“Pembroke.”
“Not far then.”
Car lights and the crunch of tyres on gravel herald the arrival of my carriage home. The taxi stops and I hesitate, unsure what the protocol is here.
“So, um. Nice to meet you, Bryn. Sorry about the soup.”
“Likewise, Avery. Sorry about the job.”
“I’m not.” I approach the car and open the door.
“What time are you meeting your friends tomorrow?” he calls.
I pause, desperate to get into the heated car and out of the falling temperature. “Seven. Why?”
He nods. As I climb inside, just before I shut the door, I’m positive Bryn says, “See you then.” No, my anxiety and tiredness are playing mind tricks. I glance at him as the taxi pulls away and he stands, hands in pockets watching.
Damn, I didn’t even ask for his autograph.
****
BRYN
The taxi pulls away, leaving tyre tracks in the thick snow. Well, that was a big fail. After what I witnessed inside, I'm not surprised Avery wasn't up for being hit on by a guy, however famous I am. Funny girl, cute, she made me smile and understood where I was coming from when I chatted with her about being an outsider. This pulled me away from staring at her as a potential conquest.
I'm crap at the predatory rock star moves, evidently.
My breath fogs in front of me and I rub my arms, wishing I’d brought my jacket outside. I wish I'd chatted longer with a girl on the periphery of my life, but whose understanding pulled us together. She also hates the romantic bullshit taking place inside the room and on the edge of her friends' lives too.
Maybe I'll join her tomorrow.
Smiling to myself at the expression on her friends faces if I did decide to rock up at the restaurant, I head back into the noise and warmth of one of my best friend's wedding, determined to quell my resentment at the world changing.
Chapter Six
AVERY
Franco’s. Nothing has changed in this Italian restaurant for years, even the ageing owners. I’ve shared celebratory meals, first dates, family birthdays, and yearly Christmas meals here since I was a kid. Even the menu is the same, apart from the prices. I could order every person’s meal without asking.
Janet has pizza, margarita, not much cheese.
Lee, her now husband, always has steak, well done.
Simon and Rachel both have lasagne. With chips.
Martin has steak too but likes his rare, and Bitchface will have a Caesar salad to watch her skinny figure.
Predictable and boring.
I nibble on a breadstick attempting not to glare at them across the table or knock back the sweet white wine too quickly. Janet and Lee discuss their baby plans with me and I feign interest while staring at the tinsel garlands strung across the roof. Happy bloody Christmas.
Martin and Taylor could at least keep their hands off each other in front of me; otherwise, I’m going to stab her in the eye with my breadstick. I swear she’s deliberately running her fingers through his hair and smoothing his face to piss me off. At least Martin has the decency to look uncomfortable.
Together since school, me and Martin had a long-distance relationship once I left town for uni; so realistically, we’d never make it. However, finishing our relationship before starting on the next girl would’ve been preferable to me coming home for a surprise visit and finding them pinned together in the local pub. That was October and despite my attempt to will something bad to happen to them, they’re still together.
Neither have apologised.
Voodoo dolls tempted me for a few weeks; but then I decided if she wanted second-hand, she could have him. Perhaps the hairdresser and baker go well together. They can have perfectly groomed kids who get fat on too many carbs.
I snort at the vision as I study them. Taylor’s face transforms as she looks behind me and she drops her hand from Martin’s short brown hair. Wide-eyed and stupid is one expression I’ve seen her use plenty of times, and I turn to see what’s caused this one.
A chair scrapes and the oxygen-snatching, room-filling Bryn Hughes sits next to me. “Sorry I’m late, cariad.”
The breadstick catches in my throat and I stare at him through watering eyes. When Bryn plants a kiss on my mouth, my throat constricts further and I choke. Yeah, a rock star puts his mouth on mine and I splutter crumbs all over his face.
“You okay?” He brushes a stray crumb from his cheek and pours me a glass of water.
“I’m fine,” I rasp. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
Or ever again.
I take a long drink of water, mind whirling as the quiet restaurant focuses on us.
“I told you last night I’d be here. I don’t see why I should be left out if everybody else is bringing their partners,” continues Bryn.
I swallow the mouthful of water before it joins the breadcrumbs.
Partner?
“I’m looking forward to this.” He grins. “So, introduce me.”
Bryn encloses my hand in his broad palm and sets it on his knee and I dizzily realise I’m holding my breath as the sensation of this almost-stranger’s lips on mine lingers. Despite the fact it was the briefest of touches, the one touch shocked from my lips to my scalp. His hands are warm and strong, and he’s deliberately close, solid thigh resting against mine.
I swallow and clear my throat. “This is Bryn.”
The girls gawk and the guys nod.
“Umm. Bryn this is Janet, Lee, Rachel, Simon, Taylor, and Martin.”
Bryn registers each in turn with a friendly hello, a handshake for the guys, and then picks up the menu. “Have you ordered yet?” he asks me.
“No, just wine.”
Bryn picks up the bottle and squints at the label. “Is this the house white? We can do better.”
He summons the waitress and I wonder if, last night, I was as flushed and awed as she is now. An accomplished waitress after five years, I bet Oriana doesn’t drop food on people.
“I think I’ll have the soup,” Bryn announces with a sly glance at me.
I dig my nails into his hand and he grips it harder.
What the hell is this man doing?
As I scramble to catch up with what’s happening, Bryn takes over, asking my friends to confirm their order to the waitress and orders new bottles of wine. I stare at the hand covering my now sweaty one. I’m about to say something when I take a closer look at Taylor’s and Martin’s reaction.
Shocked disbelief.
What? There’s no way someone like Bryn would be interested in me? Coming here tonight involved swallowing a lot of pride and facing more humiliation. Now Bryn’s arrived for whatever reason, the night has gone from painful to excruciating.
“Can I talk to you for a moment, please?” I ask Bryn.
“Am I in trouble? Is this about last night?”
“Last night?”
“You know, the thing… I can’t meet all your demands, you know. It’s tiring.”
His brown eyes glint and his amusement is not helping. “Okay!” I say and stand, shoving my chair back. “We need to talk.”
Bryn stands dwarfing me even in my three-inch heels, and gives the group a sigh and an expression that says ‘look at what I put up with.’ I grit my teeth and push Bryn toward a quiet corner of the restaurant. By push, I mean collide my palm with immovable, solid muscle beneath his smart black shirt. So more of a stroke, I guess.
There’s no place for complete privacy in the small restaurant so I huddle him into a corner between the kitchen doors and hallway to the bathrooms. We’re still in view of my friends and other diners. Some have politely returned to their meals, but Taylor continues to gawk. I hope Martin is comparing himself to Bryn and realising he doesn’t measure up.
It’s hard to admonish a man taller than me whose physical presence, unfortunately, is spinning my insides in circles. “What are you doing?” I hiss.
“I thought you needed moral support.”
“Moral support? By walking in and pretending we’re a couple? Are you mad?”
“You clearly are.”
“Yeah, I’m pissed off. I mean are you insane?”
“No, it’s just a bit of fun, Avery.”
“You know nothing about me! What if they start asking questions? And why would anybody believe we were an item?”
Bryn crosses his arms, rings catching the light. “Am I not good enough for you? I have a decent job, excellent prospects…”
“You know what I mean! And stop teasing me!”
“There is no reason at all someone like me wouldn’t know someone like you. There’s no law stating who rock stars can spend time with.”
I snort because I can’t think of a comeback.
“Come on, you have to admit, this could be fun. Is Taylor the bitch? Her expression was priceless!” I pout at him and he pokes me. “I’m not leaving.”
“What?”
“You’ll have to publicly dump me.”
“What?” I repeat.
“People are staring,” he says. Of course, they are. I glance around. I may as well be under a spotlight. “We’d better sit down.”
Before I can respond, he disappears back to the table and resumes his seat. Maybe I should leave instead.
As I walk back over, I realise I never told Bryn not to kiss me again. Was that deliberate?
Bryn’s arrival kills the conversation and for a few minutes, everybody drinks and fiddles with cutlery and glasses. Of course, Taylor is the first to speak.
“You never told me you were involved with a member of Blue Phoenix,” she says. “How long has this been going on?”
“Not long,” I mumble.
“A few weeks,” says Bryn and slings an arm across my shoulders.
I sink under the weight.
“Unlikely pair,” she continues.
“I’m not the only one whose choice of a man has been unlikely this year,” I retort.
She stiffens. “I mean you’re not the most… outgoing person. How did you even meet him?”
I hold my breath and grapple for a reply and Bryn gives one for me. “We bumped into each other one day, started talking, and the rest is history, as they say.”
“Where?” continues Taylor.
“You’re very nosey,” replies Bryn. “Tell me how you and Martin got together?”
“Oh, I bet you already know,” she says and smiles sweetly. “Avery will have told you.”
“Let’s leave this,” Martin says. “We came for a meal, be nice.”
I’m unaware that I’m jiggling my foot beneath the table until Bryn’s hand closes over my leg. “It’s okay,” he says, against my ear. “We’ll shut her up.”
My brain disconnects momentarily at the sensation of his breath on my skin. Where was I? “Oh yeah.” I’m now determined to rub her nose in it as hard as she’s attempting to rub in mine.
The group chat about their lives in Pembroke, and Bryn interjects with stories about our marvellous dates together whenever Taylor tries to share something interesting about her and Martin. Apparently, I’ve been to some awesome places recently – exclusive restaurants, country weekends away, even a weekend in Paris. It’s a wonder I’ve had time to study at all.
As usual, the wine flows and the conversations descend into banter and stories from our pasts. As the evening continues, Martin watches me and Bryn more curiously.
“Should we be going soon?” I ask Bryn, because his humour is increasingly edgy as he knocks back the beers he’s ordering.
“Already?” he shuffles closer again. “Oh, I get it; you want me all to yourself, huh?”
“No. I mean, yes. Crap, Bryn, you know what I’m talking about.”
“We’re all going back to Taylor and Martin’s; you should come,” says Rachel.
The room lurches. “You live together now? That was bloody quick!”
“When you know you’ve met the right person, there’s no messing around,” says Taylor and reinforces this with a gentle kiss to my ex-fiancé.
Tears prick at my eyes. I swore I wouldn’t get upset about this. I’d be mature; but after the twenty-four hours I’ve had, keeping my emotions under control is difficult. Add to that the rock star playing a weird game with me and I’m ready to let go of the bottled emotions. Loudly.
“I guess not,” I say, coldly. “Bryn? Can we go?”
He massages my leg and my skin tingles, before he whispers, “I want to go with them. I don’t think everything is as clear cut as Taylor is making out.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can recognise doubt in a guy’s eyes when I see it.”
Of course
. I turn in my chair so our conversation is better hidden. “When you said you had different tastes, did you mean…um…”
“Did I mean I’m gay?” He studies my mouth and rubs a finger along his lips “Is that what you think?” Bryn hits me with a look that grabs my lungs and squeezes the breath out, simultaneously projecting images of my mouth on his. Crap. I drag my eyes away.
“I don’t know you, sorry.”
“Not gay, Avery,” he says. “Just stupid.”
“Stupid?”
Bryn ignores my response and slaps both hands on the table in front of him. “I agree. I’d love to come back for a drink with you guys.”
“Seriously?” I ask.
“I haven’t had nearly enough fun yet,” Bryn says and stands.
****
Taylor and Martin have moved into a small flat above a local shop on the edge of town, walking distance from the restaurant. I regret wearing the shoes I chose. Walks any longer than five minutes in high heels are never a good plan, in the snow even less so.
The flat is very Taylor. Co-ordinated neutral furnishings, neat and tidy with several pictures of her and Martin in frames attached to the fridge. I compare this in my mind to my student halls, a box of a room and a bathroom shared with others. Martin visited me there a few times and we spent most of the time in bed. Was he already cheating on me then? The last couple of times he visited, we spent less time in bed and more in the student union. At the time, I thought this was because he’d finally decided he wanted to get to know my new friends, now the real reason is clear.
Rachel and Simon squash onto the sofa leaving two armchairs. Janet and Lee made their excuses and went home. Taylor disappears to the bathroom and I hover with Bryn, unsure what to do.
“Beer?” Martin asks Bryn.
“Sure.” When Martin heads to the kitchen Bryn follows.
My heart hammers in my chest as I hover. What are they going to say to each other? When Taylor reappears, she takes advantage of the guys’ absence and marches up to me.
“Bryn Hughes?” she asks doubtfully. “Really?”
“Really. What? You think I paid him to come with me or something?”
Taylor laughs. “I don’t know what you did, but whatever it is you have over him, well done.”
“Have over him? What do you mean?”
Taylor glances to where Bryn is talking to Martin. “I know you’re not really a couple. You can’t be or I’d have seen a picture of you together somewhere.”