Unrequited

by Emma Grey

  Death threats, problems at school, a best friend who’s gone AWOL, legal negotiations.

  Kat feels sick. This is too much! If it’s like this after what — barely a week — how much worse is it going to get? They haven’t even recorded the song yet! Nobody even knows about her! Right now, she’s still safe. Anonymous. Protected. And then there was the way Angus had watched the world pass by, wistfully, from the rooftop of the hotel. The way he’d sung about other people’s lives and avoided her question about being happy. What if he’s not?

  What if, in chasing this dream, she makes her mum feel even worse about her dad losing his? What if the same thing happens to Kat that happened to her father? Her mum has been irrationally suggesting this might happen, for many years now. What if she’s not irrational after all?

  The panic escalates. This is all a big mistake! She can’t do this!

  She’s going to call it off!

  The ride on the 423 bus to the Quay goes quickly, which is good, because Kat can’t stop crying and the people next to her keep staring. She gets there and power walks to the hotel and right past the concierge, who recognises her from yesterday and thankfully has the tact not to engage her in conversation. In fact, various security personnel in the foyer seem to know who she is, and let her straight through. He must have briefed them.

  She presses the lift button and waits for the elevator to arrive. It’s empty, good. She presses 34. A quick look in the mirror confirms the worst. Puffy eyes. Tear-streaked face. Hair that looks like it hasn’t seen a straightener in forever. At least the rest of her is putting on a brave face: skinny jeans, eighties peasant top, red flats.

  About sixty seconds later, the bell dings and the elevator doors open. She gets out and the doors close again, quickly, leaving her stranded.

  What on earth is she doing here? This is all wrong! She can’t just show up at Angus’s suite uninvited and looking like a lunatic!

  Frantically, she presses the ‘down’ button, but it’s too late! The lift is plunging to the lower floors already. Maybe she could take the fire escape . . .

  And then — voices! Angus’s and several others. His door opens and the band stumbles into the foyer, laughing at some sort of in-joke. Angus pulls up sharp when he sees her standing there — a portrait of apology and panic.

  Almost immediately, he steps forward. ‘Kat. What’s wrong?’

  Reuben and Zach exchange glances. The six of them hover together in the hallway for what is the longest and most uncomfortable and embarrassing twenty seconds of Kat’s entire life. A hundred years later, the lift she’d called arrives. Tempted as she is to bolt right into it, it’s the rest of the band that does, but not without shooting Angus a couple of extremely questioning looks.

  ‘Catch you later,’ Angus says, and waits for the doors to meet and the lift to move off, before taking Kat by the arm and leading her inside his suite, without a word. He goes into the bathroom and brings out an entire box of tissues, placing it on the table beside the couch, which she drops onto, folding her legs up underneath her. She doesn’t have a clue where to start.

  ‘I’m sorry!’ she says. ‘I should have called first. I’m interrupting.’

  ‘No “sorry” remember? Not for things that don’t matter. It’s just another night out for us — I’m sick of those guys, anyway,’ he jokes, with a wink. ‘What’s happened?’

  She feels ridiculous now. How to phrase this? What has happened? Nothing. Everything. She doesn’t want to talk about half of this stuff with Angus, which doesn’t seem to stop her mouth from opening up and allowing a whole lot of words to tumble out of it.

  ‘It’s Joel for one thing,’ she says, wondering why she chose this point first. ‘I think he’s cheating on me. Although, obviously that’s impossible, because we’re not actually together or anything.’

  ‘You’re not?’

  ‘We only met the night of your concert. But he’s keeping things from me. And telling Sarah.’

  ‘Who’s Sarah?’

  ‘His best friend. I’m sure there’s more to it. You know how you just get that vibe sometimes, between two people?’

  He nods. Green eyes sincere. Focused on her.

  She takes another breath.

  ‘Anyway, I’m so unsure about everything. So overwhelmed by all of this!’ She sweeps her hand to indicate what she means — Angus, the singing, the band, and the future they’re planning. Musically, of course. ‘Have you seen Twitter? Oh my GOD, Angus. They literally want to kill me! And I’m in trouble at school, and with my mum, who, BTW, hates music and blames it for my dad’s death. My best friend isn’t even speaking to me. It’s nearly the HSC and I’m definitely going to fail! I have to see an entertainment lawyer and I don’t know what to ask. Plus, I’m not good enough to record a song with you! I mean, no offence, but you’re totally deranged for even thinking I can. And as for performing. I just can’t even . . .’

  ‘Okay. Take a deep breath, Kat.’

  ‘I can’t do this, Angus! I’m not ready!’

  He takes her hand and gently laces his fingers through hers, bringing both of their hands to rest on his knee. As calming measures go, it has the opposite effect.

  ‘Firstly, I saw you and Joel together. I find it hard to believe he likes anyone else. Don’t you see the way he looks at you?’

  Oh, great. Here come the tears again, welling in her eyes and threatening to overflow, despite the frantic blinking. She grabs a tissue with her spare hand.

  ‘Whatever it is that you think is going on between Joel and Sarah, it’s not. Trust me.’ Kat looks at him. He seems to know what he’s talking about. For some reason, she sort of wishes he wasn’t being so encouraging about it.

  ‘I know it’s hard, but don’t worry about Twitter. That kind of stuff happens all the time. You’ll lose it if you focus on it. You learn to rise above it.’

  She doesn’t know how. She feels gutted — and scared.

  ‘Kat, I’m sorry about your dad.’

  She really loses it now.

  ‘But has your mum heard you sing? Really sing?’

  She shakes her head.

  ‘I think she’ll change her mind when she does.’

  He has a point. Her mum has no appreciation of just how intent she is on doing this. If she only knew the extent to which Kat has kept her music hidden all these years.

  ‘You’ve nearly finished school. The end of Year Twelve is about showing them what you’ve done all the way through. You could barely skip PE the other day. I bet you’ve worked hard. That’s going to pay off. And if it doesn’t, it’s not the end of the world. There are always other chances.’

  She starts calming down.

  ‘The legal stuff is going to be fine. Boring, but fine. They’ll know what to do for you. They’ll take care of you. Your best friend probably just has something else going on at the moment. She’ll call you. Trust her. And you know what else, Kat? You are absolutely good enough to record this song, ready or not.’

  She stares at him for a moment. Sniffing.

  She can’t help comparing him to the boys she knows from school. None of them would have catalogued her complaints and dished solutions back so comprehensively. With such care.

  He smiles. ‘I hope I’m making sense.’

  It’s badly off topic but he’s gorgeous when he’s empathising. And she is not supposed to be finding Angus gorgeous. He leans back on the sofa more comfortably now and puts his arm on the back of the couch behind her. He’s not touching her, but gosh. He’s close. Right now, sitting next to him while he untangles the knots in her mind, she thinks he’s pretty much the most extraordinary person she knows.

  ‘Do you want to tell me about your dad?’ he asks, clinching it.

  She so does, and she tells him everything. He lets her talk and talk and talk, until there’s nothing but silence left. At some point, he moves his arm from the couch so it’s resting on her shoulder, inviting her to lean into him.

  Is this actually ha
ppening?

  Her heart takes off. She’s never been this close to a boy before. Ever. Can he hear her heartbeat? She hopes not and wants to Google it: ‘Can a person hear your heartbeat when sitting beside you?’ Can she hear his? She edges her ear closer to his chest . . .

  And then, you know what he does? She can hardly believe it. It’s like the perfect moment.

  She, Kat Hartland, is sitting in Angus Marsden’s hotel suite, on Angus Marsden’s couch, in Angus Marsden’s arms . . . and then he rests his head on hers, and like it’s the most natural thing in the world to do, he starts singing to her.

  Chapter 40

  Singing seems the perfect way to buy some time here. And Angus needs some time, pretty badly. He really feels for Kat. He gets it. He remembers wanting to have a similar career meltdown when things were just starting to take off and seemed scarily out of control. All that other stuff is fixable, apart from the stuff about her dad, which is sad. But the rest will be okay. He knows it. And this leaves him to focus on the one point from her monologue that he can’t let go . . .

  Kat and Joel are not together.

  Honestly, it was a miracle he’d heard a single word after she told him that. It changed everything. And nothing. Stick to the plan, here. Stay professional. He can’t muck this up for her. Even if every cell in his body wants to muck it up comprehensively, starting immediately. Maybe if he keeps singing, she’ll sit on his couch with him forever. Or at least long enough to forget she ever met Joel.

  He can feel how stressed she is. There’s nothing relaxed about the way she’s sitting. He tries not to caress her arm. And finds himself changing key, experimenting with some new lyrics.

  I can see your inner world

  I wonder if you know

  You have greatness

  ‘What’s next, Kat?’

  You’re a hero.

  Yes! She sits up, thinking. Then looks straight into his eyes and sings the next bit.

  You are saving my world

  I feel it in my blood

  Help me build protection

  Against the rising flood.

  Right. That’s it. He drags her up off the lounge and over to the piano with him, flicks open the lid and starts playing some chords.

  ‘Record this!’ he says. Kat tugs her iPhone out of her jeans pocket and taps open the recording app, then sets the phone on the piano lid. He continues:

  Audiosphere transparent

  Universe transcendent

  Existing independent till we meet

  The bubble is electric

  Our voyages are epic

  Tracing geometrics with our feet.

  Silence.

  ‘Now what?’ he prompts. ‘Chorus, obviously. But what?’

  She’s thinking intently. Tears or not, she’s hot when she’s creating something. When they’re creating something together.

  Then she gets it. He can tell by the look on her face. She brushes his hands off the keyboard, and he loves it. She changes key again, unexpectedly. Beautifully.

  We are the great inventors

  We are the warriors brave

  We know what we’re making

  We know what to save.

  He joins her.

  We are queens of the mountain

  We are kings of the sea

  We scale these heights

  With a quiet heartfelt plea.

  They drift into the final lines together:

  We are the great inventors

  We are the warriors brave.

  She presses the app to stop recording.

  Did they really just do that? Make up an entire song together, on the spot? Even if it’s just for their own entertainment?

  ‘Did we just do that?’ he says out loud. ‘It never happens like that for me.’ What is she, his muse?

  ‘I think we did . . . and . . . Angus? Did you mean it?’

  The bit about seeing her inner world? Oh, yes.

  He looks at her and tries to control his breathing. She’s turning his world upside down and doesn’t know it. To think he was meant to be out with the guys tonight, in some bar, probably fending off girls, as usual. Instead he’s here, being reeled in by one who’s completely oblivious to the fact.

  Look at her! High on creativity. Brilliant, but peppered with doubts.

  He could kiss her. In fact, oh God.

  He’s going to . . .

  Chapter 41

  Is he going to kiss her? How would she know? She’s never done this before. Not with anyone. Pop star or otherwise . . .

  He is. He’s going to kiss me. She thought they couldn’t get any closer on this piano stool but she was wrong. His face is near hers now, his green eyes intense. He touches her cheek with his fingers and traces a line to her chin, which he lifts, gently, almost like he’s done this a million times before.

  His breath is on her lips and she can actually hear her own heart thudding. She’s sure he can, too, particularly when his other hand finds the curve of her waist and pulls her closer.

  There’s nothing rushed about this manoeuvre. Yep. He’s definitely done this before. Maybe two million times. Maybe three million. After all, he’s got at least twenty million followers on social media . . .

  ‘Kat,’ he whispers. ‘Turn your brain off.’

  His lips meet hers. And that’s all there is to it. All there is to anything, really. She doesn’t even have to think about what to do because her body’s doing it for her — kissing him back in a way that says she might only do this once, but she’s making that one time count.

  Wow! He knows how to do this. He understands how she works. His hand traces the curve across the small of her back and causes it to arch involuntarily. She thought nothing could have a bigger impact on her body than his voice, but this is absolutely . . .

  Oh. As quickly as it started, it stops. She sighs, softly. Opens her eyes. He groans, pulls away and looks at her like he’s trying to figure out a problem. It’s like being on a roller-coaster. She begins to compute what just happened. Angus Marsden just kissed her. Her. She can’t compare it with any other kiss, but if they’re all like that, then . . .

  ‘I’m sorry, Kat. I shouldn’t have done that.’

  Wait, what?

  ‘I really shouldn’t have done that. Particularly tonight.’

  Why? ‘Was it particularly bad?’ she blurts out. Because she really didn’t think it was, even for a beginner.

  He stares at her like she’s speaking a foreign language. ‘Are you crazy? I don’t know what kind of kisses you’re used to, Kat, but that was pretty bloody incredible.’

  ‘It was? I mean . . . it was.’ She bites her lip, which draws his attention to her mouth. He stands up and moves to the other side of the room, pacing, like a caged animal. His iPhone starts vibrating on the piano right in front of her. It’s a call from a girl — Neala. Who’s she?

  ‘That’s exactly why it can’t happen again,’ he says, glancing at the screen and shutting the phone off.

  She doesn’t understand why, but he looks determined. Very. And maybe that’s a good thing. Because Kat can see herself getting unintentionally entangled with someone she came here to break up with — professionally.

  ‘It’s getting late. Let me call you a cab,’ he says, suddenly.

  Why is he treating her like this?

  ‘Did I do something wrong, Angus?’

  ‘No. You didn’t. I’ve overstepped the mark.’

  ‘What mark? There is no mark.’

  He looks at her like she’s really not getting it. Which she isn’t.

  ‘Saturday morning, let’s record.’ He gets his phone out and starts texting her the address. ‘Just bring yourself, and don’t worry about anything. I’ll book the studio for three hours, so there’s plenty of time, okay? It’s not about getting it perfect. It’s about having fun.’

  ‘Well, we certainly know how to do that . . .’ Did she just say that? She’s got to stop and think before she speaks.

  Angus
frowns and runs his fingers through his brown hair the way she wants to. He’s exasperated. He stares at her for a minute, potently. Then he grabs her bag and walks her through his suite and out to the elevators. He pushes the button. Two or three times.

  Kat doesn’t know what to say. So she says nothing. He’s not talking, either, and he looks impatiently at the lift doors, like he’s willing them to open. When they do, he holds them apart and she walks in and says, ‘Angus, is everything . . .’

  ‘It’s okay. Everything’s okay. Goodnight, Kat.’

  He lets the doors go, and she watches them shut him out, forming a barrier as impassable as the one that kiss just created. The lift drops down and down and down. And with every passing floor, her spirits plunge in unison.

  Chapter 42

  She’s gone. Good.

  Angus takes a couple of steps backwards and leans on the wall for support. He’s in trouble here, in a way that he’s never been before. He feels really bad for throwing her out. But he had to. This thing got way more real than he’d expected. Way too fast. Kat seems to have no idea how deeply they fell just then. Doesn’t she get it? Was it just him? Has she experienced anything like that kiss before?

  Because he hasn’t. Not before Unrequited, and not since. Not with all the girls who’ve thrown themselves at him. Not with the publicity shoots, or with his fledgling relationships. Not with any of them.

  And Kat was so calm. Really? Is she that calm? Walking back into his luxury suite, it feels so hot it might just burst into flames around him. Didn’t she feel it, too?

  More than ever, Angus knows he has to keep his distance. It’s about protection now. Protecting her. And him. And both of their careers. As much as this is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, it’s for the best. He handled it badly tonight, though. Throwing her out of here, that fast, didn’t look good. He knows he did the right thing but he also knows it confused her. He hates that, but it had to be done.