by Vicky Owen
As I sit down I realise that the décor of the entire place is red, white and silver.
I even match the stupid diner.
While Luc pays, I become aware of three girls in the far corner watching him, reminding me he’s famous. It’s weird how I forget when I’m with him that he’s some well-known rock star drummer guy.
They keep watching, chattering to each other, as he walks over to our table.
Our table.
He’s carrying one pink and white swirled concoction with whipped cream, a cherry and sprinkles on top.
‘Strawberry Cream Cherry Dream for you.’
He puts down some yellow thing in front of himself as he sits opposite me.
‘And, uh, what do they call that monstrosity?’ I ask, looking at his drink apprehensively.
‘Delicious,’ he says, grinning.
I raise an eyebrow and lean forward, taking a sip of mine.
It’s so thick and oh so good. Even if it does have a stupid name.
Luc watches me and shakes his head with a chuckle.
I stop. ‘What?’
‘Fucking strawberry?’
‘It’s better than that banana crap you’ve got.’ I lick my lips, to make sure I’m not inadvertently making a mess of myself. Again.
‘Banana and peanut butter, actually.’ He still hasn’t taken his sunglasses off.
‘Ew, even worse!’
I glance over at the corner girls, to the left of Luc and several tables away. They’re still watching.
I feel so exposed.
‘So, you got home safe?’ he asks after taking a sip of his own drink.
‘Are you going to take your sunglasses off?’ I ask in return, ignoring his question.
‘Maybe.’
I want to see his eyes. And I feel doubly exposed with the corner three over there watching us and not knowing what he’s looking at.
Want to take his sunglasses off. I’m tempted to just do it. My fingers twitch and…it could be my mind playing tricks, but I swear the corner of his mouth twitches in response.
I bite at my lips, considering it. This isn’t fair.
Screw it.
I reach out towards his face with both hands. I expect him to block me with his arms, or at least grab my wrists to stop me.
He doesn’t.
Instead, his smile gets wider.
I carefully hook my fingers under the arms of his shades and pull them away from his face.
His eyes are so blue. Like cobalt blue, or something. And he locks them onto me, running his hands through his dirty blond hair as he does it.
‘That’s not very friendly,’ he says.
‘Neither was hiding your eyes from me,’ I shoot right back. Then I realise how it sounds like I actually wanted to see his eyes. ‘Because, you know, it’s dehumanising, or something,’ I quickly add. He doesn’t need to know the truth.
‘Are you Luc Hall?’ a high-pitched voice suddenly says from my left. We both look. The corner trio are now standing next to us. Luc runs his hand through his hair again, his smile different now as he responds to his fan girls.
He signs some placemats for them and lets them take some photos. I focus on my milkshake, wanting to disappear. I don’t belong here, in this world.
His world.
‘Is this your girlfriend?’ My attention snaps back. The four of them are looking at me. My jaw drops open, not knowing what to say. Looking from Luc to his fans and back again.
Luc looks at me with intensity for a moment, then smiles slightly. ‘Well,’ he says slowly, pulling his gaze away from mine after a few seconds to look back at the girls, ‘maybe.’
I raise my eyebrows, not really having a clue how to respond. Surely he’s just messing with them?
He looked so serious, though…
My mouth still open, I try to say something, but no sound comes out.
A few moments later, the girls are gone.
‘What was that?’ I ask when I finally get my voice back.
Luc shrugs, sipping his milkshake. ‘I don’t know. They asked. And it’s nice to give them what they want, sometimes.’
‘Yeah, I bet,’ I mutter. Sam’s comments from last week and the weekend echo in my head.
‘Gave you what you want, didn’t I?’ Luc says, putting his shake back down.
Now I really don’t know what to say. Crap, what happened on the weekend? What did I do? A million scenarios race through my mind, each more horrifying than the last.
What did stupid drunk me say?
‘Yeah, that milkshake. And my sunglasses.’ He smiles a mischievous smile. He’s far too beautiful for his own good.
And he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Bastard.
I scowl playfully and slide his sunglasses back to him, sucking my straw to occupy my face with something other than looking shocked and annoyed.
‘And, you know, a lift home from your favourite drummer.’
I almost choke on his ego. After catching my breath, I look him dead in the eye. ‘Actually, No Reckless aren’t even my favourite band.’ I don’t blink. My voice is steady. I’m actually impressed with my lying skills. Usually I’m the kind of person who can’t even tell a white lie just to be nice.
‘Liar,’ he says, not missing a beat.
I can feel my face flushing so fast I have to look down immediately. Damn it.
A slight shadow falls around me as he leans closer.
‘You know,’ he lowers his voice, ‘I was kinda hoping you’d still be around when I woke up on Saturday.’
My heart is in my throat as I fight the urge to look up.
‘Yeah?’ I say quietly. Where can this conversation possibly be going?
‘Yeah.’ He hesitates. ‘I, uh, have a favour to ask you.’
I look up slightly, confused. ‘A favour?’
‘I was thinking about some of the things you were saying on Friday night.’
‘Oh?’ My stomach turns over inside me, and I rub my forehead.
‘Yeah. The teaching stuff.’
‘Teaching?’ That was unexpected. I perk up, slightly relieved, although more confused than ever. ‘I was talking about teaching?’
He nods, finishing his milkshake with a slurp. ‘You kept saying you had to teach. Didn’t sound like you actually wanted to, though.’
I nod, still not really understanding where this is going. ‘Yeah. No. But you know how it is…’ I trail off, looking more closely at him than ever before. Bright blue eyes flecked with gold. He’s far sexier in person.
And a twenty-five year old rock star.
He definitely doesn’t know how it is. He has it made.
He keeps talking. ‘Well, I’ve got something to ask you.’
I wait.
‘How’d you feel about being my girlfriend?’
My heart rate accelerates, even though I know, with all the logic in my brain, that I must be misunderstanding. ‘I, uh…’ I manage to stutter.
‘For the cameras, I mean,’ he adds quickly, running his hand through his hair yet again. Somehow, it doesn’t get messier.
‘I…wait, what?’ I take a deep breath to calm myself down. My reaction is ridiculous. ‘Instead of being a teacher, you mean?’
‘Well, no, but for a little while,’ Luc says, fiddling with his sunglasses. ‘My ex-girlfriend just won’t take the hint, and I need a way to really drive home the fact that we’re over. She knows I was out with you the other night. A few more things like that might just do the trick.’ He’s speaking slightly faster than usual.
I’m not sure what to say. For a moment, I just sit there.
And, for a moment, I feel numb.
He just wants me to pretend to be his girlfriend. To get rid of his ex-girlfriend. So he can be free to screw whoever he wants.
I’m just a cover.
This whole flirtation has been entirely in my head.
Whatever I thought might have happened on Friday night, it can’t be worse than th
is.
My pulse is in my stomach.
This is so embarrassing. All the teasing, and getting my number, and thinking he wanted something, even just a one-night stand…all in my dumb head.
And another thought: Sam really is right about these guys.
‘Alexis?’
The sound of my name being used in its entirety snaps me out of my thoughts and I make eye contact with him.
He’s looking back, waiting for my answer.
I don’t know what to say.
What the fuck am I supposed to say?
Oh yeah, Luc, just use me because, because…I don’t even know!
I just know that I don’t think this is for me. Whatever this is. I open my mouth to tell him so, but he gets there first.
‘I’ll pay you.’ His face is the most serious I’ve seen it. Which, admittedly, isn’t saying much. We’ve only met a few times. But he’s usually smirking, grinning, laughing, teasing…all for show though, apparently.
‘What?’ I hear myself say.
‘For your time. For the inconvenience.’
Oh hell no. I’ve already been called a whore on Twitter.
I inhale jaggedly and stand up, my long legs jerking against the table, nearly causing the glasses to tip. He skillfully grabs them.
Drummer skills?
Oh, who cares.
‘What’s wrong?’ he says, looking up at me.
Towering over him, like this, I feel powerful.
‘No.’
‘No?’ He looks confused. Maybe he’s not used to girls turning him down.
‘No. Thank you, but no. I don’t need your money.’ I try to sound calm and controlled, although I worry my voice is shriller than I’m hearing.
‘But you wouldn’t have to—’
‘I have a fully-funded offer for teaching,’ I continue, determined to maintain control. ‘I’m more than just a, a, a dummy for the cameras.’
My heart isn’t in my throat but there’s a lump nonetheless. As I say the words, fighting to sound like a person and not just window dressing, I can feel the tears forming behind my eyes. I feel slightly ridiculous, but I can’t help it. What did I expect, though?
I turn to leave and I hear Luc getting up.
‘Wait, I didn’t mean—’
I manage to exit the diner at a walk, then break into a sprint, grateful for my choice of footwear.
I won’t let anyone see me cry, damn it.
NINE
Luc
‘THAT RIFF, OR whatever the fuck you want to call it, isn’t working.’
Gethin looks wearily at Harry. ‘It’s your bass playing that’s the problem. The melody is perfect.’
Harry snorts and pulls the strap of his bass guitar over his head, leaning it against the wall. ‘The melody was perfect until you decided to start pissing all over it with all your embellishments.’
I twirl a drumstick in my hand while they bicker at each other. Each always vying to be heard over the other, in music and in fucking life alike.
On the other side of the room—Harry’s basement, to be precise—Jake slumps down on an oversized chair, throwing his legs over one of the arms and pulling his phone out of his pocket.
Easier to just let Harry and Gethin get on with it.
I pull out my own phone as they continue arguing over eight bars of music, knowing there’ll be nothing to see except maybe another message from Hayley. Part of me is still hopeful, though. Hopeful I’ll hear from Lexi. That she’ll reply to the message I sent her.
But the screen is blank. Nothing. And, not for the first time, there’s a slight sinking feeling in my chest.
It’s because you expected her to just do whatever you asked, I tell myself for something like the sixty-seventh time.
I open our stream of messages anyway, reading through them from the beginning. There aren’t many, really. That Friday night, the next day and a few more scattered back and forths until the Wednesday. The last one from me.
Lexi I’m really sorry. I’m not sure what I said to upset you. Please give me a chance to explain and then maybe think it over? Get back to me.
What a shit fucking message. No wonder she hasn’t responded.
‘I’m not fucking changing it, you jackass!’ Gethin suddenly shouts, visibly exasperated.
Jake looks up from his chair. ‘Jesus, Geth. Calm down.’
‘Yeah Geth,’ adds Harry, ‘I do have neighbours to think about.’
Gethin sighs. ‘Harry, this house is huge and detached. And this’—he spreads his arms, palms up, and looks around, indicating the room—‘is fucking soundproofed.’
As they carry on, I look back at my messages. I really want to send another one, but that’s not really me. And she’s just some girl I barely know. Fun, sure, but maybe it’s for the best. I never really meant to see her again after hooking up with her, and even that didn’t work out.
Too complicated, remember?
Yeah, probably for the best.
I shove my phone back in my pocket.
That was the plan, anyway. Drop her home and never see her again. Keep my life simple. Or as simple as it can be with Hayley still harassing me.
‘What’s up?’ Jake is standing next to me, one eyebrow raised. ‘Everything OK?’
I swivel my stool around to face him. ‘Huh?’
‘Your phone. You looked bothered. Hayley still at it?’ he says, concern etched on his face.
Oh. I shake my head. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’
He looks at me, his eyebrow still slightly raised. Unconvinced.
‘Anyway,’ I continue, determined to turn the conversation away from Hayley, ‘how’s Cerys?’
‘Cerys?’ Gethin says, overhearing. Frowning.
‘What have you done now?’ says Harry, turning his attention on Jake as well.
Jake looks ruefully at me. I raise my hands in defence.
‘Well?’ Gethin starts walking over.
‘Nothing!’ Jake scowls at them. ‘And I thought we were here to help Luc move in and have a few drinks. Maybe some games and take out? How did it turn into a practice?’
Harry shrugs. ‘Got a gig coming up.’
‘And we’ve got drinks,’ Gethin adds, pointing out the empty glasses scattered on the tables. He frowns. ‘Well, we did at least.’
Without thinking, I pull out my phone again. To check.
I’m on fucking autopilot.
‘Nah, Jake’s right,’ says Harry. Any chance to disagree with Gethin. ‘And it’s Friday night. Let’s go upstairs.’
Gethin and Jake head for the staircase. Harry hangs back, looking pointedly at the phone in my hand.
‘You haven’t told her, have you?’
I look at him, confused. ‘Told who what?’
‘Hayley. That you’re moving in here.’
‘Oh. Hell no.’
We follow the other two upstairs. They’re already ordering food and sorting out drinks when we get there.
Harry crashes on the sofa and grabs the remote, flicking through channels rapidly.
‘Halloween this weekend. What’s everyone doing?’ he says.
‘Leah,’ calls out Gethin from the kitchen. Harry smirks. ‘Seeing her, I mean,’ Gethin adds as he joins us on the sofas, giving Harry a don’t-you-fucking-dare look. It doesn’t deter him. Harry laughs anyway.
‘And Jake? You got plans with Cerys, right?’
Jake doesn’t respond for a few seconds, studying the laptop screen far more intensely than necessary while he places his order.
‘Jake?’ says Harry, a bit louder this time.
Jake shakes his head in response, tight-lipped. The rest of us exchange a wary look. Gethin opens his mouth to say something but Harry gets there first.
‘Well, you can come to this party I’m going to. You, me and Luc.’
‘What party?’ I ask. My phone vibrates in my pocket.
Don’t get your hopes up.
Jake closes the laptop lid and frowns quizzica
lly at Harry.
It’s probably just Hayley.
I reach into my pocket.
‘You’ll see,’ says Harry, taking a swig of his drink. ‘It’ll be fun.’
I look at the lit screen.
Lexi.
TEN
Lexi
‘MS JOHNSON?’
‘Yes.’ My heart pounds. I hate talking on the phone, especially when I don’t know who’s calling. And this guy sounds serious.
‘Hello, this is David Price from St. Francis Secondary.’
‘Oh,’ I exhale. Relief. Just the Head from my placement, soon to be my School Direct placement, fully funded and salaried by the school itself. I hadn’t recognised the number and was worried it was Student Finance calling to say they’d overpaid me or something. I sink onto my bed as the beating in my chest calms. ‘Hi David. I hope all’s well with you.’
‘Yes, thank you. Studies going well?’ comes the voice which sounded so unfamiliar mere moments before.
‘Yeah, I think so.’ I glance over at the pile of files and books on the floor. Notepads more than a little covered in sketches and doodles.
‘That’s very good to hear,’ David says. As he continues chatting, my gaze drifts around the room, glancing past my old camera on the dresser and landing on the wall of pictures from first year. Cerys, Sam and Mylo. Some of the people I lived with in halls in first year. Shots taken down microscopes of frog embryos and E. coli and blood cells. Nature shots. Festivals and rock concerts. Should have taken my camera to Tram House…
My eyes drift back to my books.
Haven’t even bothered with Instagram for a while.
‘…sorry to inform you that, due to the cuts, we’ve been forced to withdraw your School Direct placement due to commence in September.’ David’s words cut right into my thoughts.
I sit bolt upright.
‘I…what?!’
‘Yes. Government cuts unfortunately. We’re so sorry, Lexi. You were fantastic on your placement, but we have no other option. The money simply isn’t there.’
‘But, but…what am I going to do now?!’ I know my voice is shrill but it’s out of my control at this point.
‘You’ll be fine, Lexi. You have more than enough experience to get onto a PGCE,’ the Head says matter-of-factly, like there’s no competition for placements and funding at all. ‘You have applied, haven’t you?’
