Out of Chances

by Shona Husk

His gaze lifted from her toes. There was no anger or hurt in his eyes. He thought for a moment. Then nodded. ‘She would rather be beige and fit in than be herself.’

  ‘Next time I’ll leave my hair curly.’ It was meant to come out as a little flirty but instead her voice was soft and made her sound as though she cared about what he thought. ‘Straightening takes too long.’

  His smile returned, but she wasn’t sure if he’d bought her hasty cover-up.

  He offered her his arm. ‘Shall we go?’

  It was then she realised she’d never invited him in. They’d had the whole conversation at the front door. Truly, she had no social graces. She grabbed her handbag and locked the door before wondering what to do with his arm. She hooked hers with his and hoped that was good enough.

  Tonight good enough was all she was aiming for. Good enough that he wanted to do this again. She wanted a peek into his world—which was obviously about a million miles from hers. The moment she’d seen him in the bar she should’ve known that once wouldn’t be enough.

  ‘So … aside from working in the bar, and at the gym what else should I know?’ He glanced at her as he drove toward the city. That was really all he knew about her. That and she was a fan. He wanted to know who she was and what she did in her spare time, if she had any.

  She hesitated. ‘I have a younger brother and sister.’

  ‘Two older sisters.’ At least they had family to talk about if they ran out of other things to say.

  She was quiet for a moment. ‘Did you always want to be a rock star?’

  He laughed. ‘Not like that. I’ve always liked music. My super useful degree is in music and history. I guess if we hadn’t been successful I’d have done something with it.’ He had no idea what beyond teaching, and fortunately hadn’t had to think too seriously about that. His father’s warning had lingered. What would he be doing in ten or twenty years?

  ‘I didn’t know you had been to uni.’ She twisted in the seat to look at him. ‘So what is success?’

  He paused before speaking because he wasn’t entirely sure. ‘I don’t know. The first album wasn’t a flop so that was enough success for us to try again.’

  ‘So no dollar amounts?’

  He’d never had to think about the dollars because his father had topped up his account. If he said that he’d sound like a tool. Dan shook his head. ‘I think making a living wage would be nice—I’m not making that at the moment. Anything after that would be gravy.’ And total freedom. She had no idea how truly skint he was. ‘And you? Two jobs … it is how you thought your life would be?’

  ‘Nope. I left Kalgoorlie without any real plans.’ She shot him a glance. ‘Don’t say anything about where I came from.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to. There’s nothing wrong with Kal. I’ve been to the races there.’ And been so very drunk and sick the next day. He’d been nineteen and had lost close to a grand on the horses. At the time he hadn’t cared. Money hadn’t been an issue.

  She gave him a sharp nod. ‘Anyway, I got to Perth and started looking for work. I was always into sport so I did the fitness thing.’

  ‘You’re pretty ripped.’

  ‘Thanks. Jealous?’ Her lips curved as she teased him.

  ‘Totally.’ But he didn’t know if he had the dedication to get a sixpack.

  ‘I could help you out …’

  ‘Private sessions?’ That came more suggestive than he’d planned.

  Her smile widened and he could almost feel the ground shifting beneath him. When he fell it was going to hurt. The silence returned and he wondered again if this was a bad idea. It was wrong to take her out on the assumption that there would be sex later. Would she have skipped the date to get to the sex? She’d looked hot standing in the doorway. If she’d have invited him in he might have been tempted to stay in. However he wanted to go to opening night and support Ripley. He could appreciate the music and the ability of the dancers, and by half-time be ready to pull his eyes out.

  ‘I … I have no expectation for after.’ He wasn’t sure if that made him sound better or worse, as now he’d admitted to thinking about what would happen after.

  ‘I do.’ She put her hand on his leg. ‘Don’t think you’re getting off the hook.’ There was a devilish glint in her eyes.

  She was exciting and dangerous. Not what he needed, he was sure of that. He was supposed to be finding his balance, not spinning off course. He wished he’d had a second shot before coming out, to settle his nerves.

  ‘Okay then, you want to tell me what you have planned?’ He glanced at her again. She had transformed herself, he almost didn’t recognise her. The hair, the make-up, yet that smile was there. A temptation he was having a really hard time resisting.

  ‘Well …’ her finger traced over his thigh. ‘You’re going to drop me home and we won’t be pretending that you want to come in for coffee.’

  He swallowed and knew there was no point in fighting the rush of blood that went from one head to the other.

  ‘That sounds like a plan.’ All they had to do was get through the next couple of hours. Smile for the camera. Make polite conversation. The kind of thing he could do in his sleep. The kind of thing Lisa had been great at. She knew exactly what to say and when to get the desired reaction. Thinking about it now turned his stomach. He saw the manipulation behind the smile. The knives in her laugh. ‘There will be photographers and probably someone grabbing quotes. If you don’t know what to say, smile. I’ll take the heat.’

  He hated doing that. It’s why he’d let Lisa do it. No wonder she thought he’d do as he was told.

  ‘Okay. I feel like I’m entering some kind of parallel universe.’ Her fingers pressed into his leg for a moment, betraying her doubts.

  ‘I feel like that every day. One day I’m going to wake up and people are going to be pointing and shouting fraud.’ And they’d be brandishing pitchforks as they chased him. Imposter syndrome. He’d never be good enough. When Ed had been fretting about making the second album awesome earlier in the year, Dan had known exactly what he was going through. Would they ever be great, or just good enough to make a living and not break out? At the time, though, he’d been trying to sort out his feelings for Lisa and overcoming her betrayal, so he hadn’t been much use.

  A lot of what Ripley said the other night made sense. It was probably stuff Gemma had told him months ago but he hadn’t wanted or been ready to hear. Today he’d sat in a coffee shop and had actually been able to lose himself in his notebook instead of chasing his tail. He’d started writing another goddamn bouncy pop song.

  Ed, Mike and Gemma had fallen about laughing when he’d played them a couple of songs—which he’d expected. What he hadn’t expected was Gemma suggesting he create a new persona and do it himself.

  Nope. Not going to happen. He much preferred Ripley’s idea of being the silent partner. Ed had said the lyrics were still very Dan, whatever that meant. But not so much that they cared. As long as he kept the line between the two styles. Which really wouldn’t be a problem. When he wrote for Selling the Sun he enjoyed working with them. With Gemma.

  Or he had. So far he’d avoided saying much to her or Mike.

  She laughed and then looked at him. ‘You’re serious. You really feel like a fraud.’

  ‘Everything you see on stage is an illusion.’ Even his social media was carefully crafted to not let any cracks show.

  ‘You always look like you’re having fun.’ She was looking at him more closely.

  ‘I am, but I’m trying not to think about what the audience is thinking about. Now you know my secrets.’ Or as many as he was going to share. He didn’t know her that well and there was the niggling doubt that this was all going to end up online somewhere. He’d never worried about that before as he’d been with Lisa. It had been Ed and Mike playing up and crossing their fingers in the morning.

  This time the tour would feel very different. They were all paired up.

  He’d be on his own. That was
n’t as liberating as it should be.

  She made a little noise that could have been amusement. ‘So am I getting to know the real Dan, or just the bit you want me to see?’

  Indigo was far smarter than he’d thought. She also cut to the point. He really liked that. ‘Isn’t all dating about letting someone discover bits at a time? If we all showed our weird off straightaway, no one would ever get together.’

  She laughed. She seemed to laugh easily and often. He couldn’t remember Lisa laughing that much. ‘I think if people were honest straight up there would be less mucking around. You’d be able tell much faster who you actually liked and who was a dick.’

  He smiled. ‘That is also a good point.’

  He wanted to know what her weird was. What were the secrets she was hiding? What would she want to know about him in exchange? It had been so long since he’d done the actual get-to-know someone part of dating. But they weren’t dating. They had both made it clear they didn’t want that. He didn’t want that, did he?

  While she could look him up on the internet, he knew very little about her. ‘What’s your last name?’

  ‘Mathews. Next you’ll be asking where I went to school.’

  No, because then she’d be asking where he went to school and it might slip out that his track record wasn’t great. He laughed. ‘We don’t need to get that personal, but it wouldn’t have looked good if someone had asked your name and I stumbled. I don’t want people thinking …’ that I’d hired you. He couldn’t say that.

  ‘That we didn’t really know each other very well?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘So, let people assume I’m your new girlfriend. It’s been months. You don’t have to correct them and surely no one would be that nosy.’

  He shook his head. But he liked the idea of letting people think he was with Indigo. He liked the idea of being with her a bit too much. Could they date, or had they already screwed up what might have been by starting out in bed and doing this all backwards?

  ‘You have no idea how intrusive people can be when they think they have the right to know.’ For a heartbeat he didn’t want to expose her to that part of his life. There would be fallout. He was sure of that, but he was tired of hiding and waiting to feel ready to face the world again. He gave Indigo’s hand a squeeze. ‘You’ll be great.’

  Chapter 8

  And she had been great. She’d smiled and laughed. Had her picture taken with Dan and had felt like a million dollars. No one had said anything to make her feel like she shouldn’t be there with him. While she was sure there were pockets of snobbery, the people Dan had introduced her to were cool.

  They were also people he’d gone to school with once. Not public school, but the exclusive, expensive boys-only schools that he’d managed to get expelled from. That revelation had made her giggle. There he was looking all proper, but his life hadn’t been all smooth sailing the way she’d thought it had been. What she read online was only a fraction of the truth.

  She was learning more about him and liking what she learned. This Dan was far more interesting than the untouchable man on stage or the snippets he revealed online. But now he was off the pedestal he seemed more real, more accessible—more like someone she’d like to be with.

  The ballet had been fun and with less clothing than she’d expected. If someone had told her years ago how gorgeous men could be in a pair of tights, she’d have been going to the ballet on a regular basis.

  What had amazed her were the women. The female dancers had made her feel curvy. She liked that. Despite her initial doubts, she was glad she’d accepted the offer to come as Dan’s date. And while it wasn’t an actual date, it was still the best one she’d been on for a while and there were no weird mixed signals at the end of the night; they both knew what the arrangement was.

  Now they were both in her kitchen, and she wasn’t making coffee. A few more steps and they’d be down the hallway and into her bedroom. She wasn’t sure they’d make it.

  His lips brushed her neck as he undid the zip of her dress. He slid it down her arms and it slithered to the floor. His jacket was on the sofa, his shirt was open. Her fingers glided over his skin as though she couldn’t get enough.

  He undid her bra and something sprung out. He jumped back. ‘What was that?’

  The bra filler landed on the ground with a splat. She’d forgotten about her chicken fillets. Her face started burning. Her skin would be matching her shoes.

  He stared at it for a moment then lifted his gaze and stared at her gaping bra. ‘I thought something was different.’

  Indigo placed her hand on her chest and picked up the fillet from the floor. ‘I won’t be using these for much longer.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m getting implants.’ She thought he’d be impressed.

  His eyebrows lifted in disbelief. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Yes. Why is that surprising? I want a bit more.’

  He put his arm around her waist. ‘You don’t need a bit more.’ He kissed her collarbone, then lower, until he could tug her bra away and take her nipple in his mouth.

  What had the doctor said? There might be reduced sensitivity? There’d be scars. Once naked, guys would know they weren’t real. What if she broke her boobs? And what if it was awesome? Clothes would fit better and there’d be no surprises lurking in her bra when she was getting naked with a guy.

  ‘You’re just saying that to get me naked.’ No guy had ever said her boobs were fine small. They always wanted more.

  ‘I could become a fan of small boobs. You have convinced me about red shoes.’

  He had to be lying through his teeth. But he had made a comment about the dancers, something about the lean muscle. She was pretty sure he’d been talking about the women.

  In the ambient light in the kitchen it was hard to read his expression. His fingers traced the curve of her breast. He took off her bra, the other fillet staying tucked inside like it was supposed to, and placed it on the kitchen counter.

  ‘Have you ever felt fake breasts?’ His finger traced around her nipple.

  She didn’t go around feeling other women’s boobs. ‘No, just the implants.’

  They’d sat like jellyfish on the doctor’s desk and looked very unappealing. She had to remember it was a means to an end. And what end was that, specifically? It wouldn’t help her career. It might help her love-life … but she’d never had a problem getting a guy. Not since leaving high school anyway, where she’d been teased mercilessly about her lack of breasts. Well-developed girls had gotten the boyfriends back then. ‘The implant goes behind the muscle, so they’ll feel natural.’

  His hands were still on her breasts. Her nipples were hard aching peaks against his palm. He kissed her instead of replying. His tongue dipped into her mouth, the fillet incident forgotten for the moment.

  Her hand snuck over his hip and into his back pocket. ‘Is there anything useful in your wallet or do we need to go to the bedroom?’

  ‘I’m good either way.’ He tugged her closer.

  The length of him pressed against her. Her panties offered no protection.

  ‘You want to leave the shoes on?’ He smiled against her lips.

  ‘I can.’ She tugged his wallet, it felt like leather, out of his pants and opened it up. He didn’t try to stop her. She felt around while he distracted her. Eventually she found what she was looking for. Two of … he was hopeful. She put his wallet on the kitchen counter. ‘So, should I turn around, like this?’

  Indigo twisted in his arms so her butt rubbed against him. He nipped at her neck as his hands moved lower to grab her hips. He ground against her.

  Her heart kicked over. She didn’t want to waste the time it would take to walk to the bedroom. His fingers slid into her panties and then lower. She bit her lip and closed her eyes as his fingers danced over her sensitive flesh.

  ‘I’m fine with here,’ she murmured.

  ‘Me too.’ He pushed her panties down and s
he stepped out of them. The heel of her shoe briefly catching.

  In stockings and shoes she felt more exposed than she did naked, but she wasn’t going to back down now. She rested her elbows on the counter and wiggled her butt. His zipper ratcheted down. The tearing of the packet was too loud. Her breath hitched and it felt like hours crawled by while she waited.

  Then his hands were tracing down her spine and smoothing over her buttocks. He held her hips and pressed into her. Slowly. She sucked in a breath as a shiver of delight coursed through her.

  He groaned and started moving. One hand slipping under to caress her clit. He knew what he was doing with his hands. She moved with him. Needing it a little rougher, a little harder. He took the hint, slamming into her.

  She rocked back meeting each thrust, loving the way he filled her. The way he was touching her like he knew exactly how to play with her to get her to where she needed to be. She gasped as she came, her fingers curling against the cold, hard laminate of the counter.

  ‘Fuck, yeah.’ He thrust a few more times, then stilled, his grip on her hip tight. He sucked in air like he’d been drowning.

  She glanced over her shoulder and his gaze met hers. His eyes were black in the dim light, but there was no mistaking the raw lust and the lifting of his shoulders with each breath.

  He eased his grip. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ She hadn’t noticed how hard he’d been holding her until then, and she’d be more than happy to let him do it again.

  He didn’t pull away like she’d expected him to. There was no race for the door now he was done. His fingers were still tracing shapes on her skin. She sighed, not wanting him to pull out yet … or leave.

  ‘Did you want that coffee?’ She tried to make the request sound casual, but she wanted him to stay.

  ‘If I drink that now, I won’t be sleeping.’

  She grinned. ‘That’s the point.’

  He’d woken up without a hangover but in a strange bed. Usually the two went hand in hand. It had been a little unnerving, especially as he hadn’t planned on staying over. Staying over implied there was more going on than there was. Which there wasn’t. He did not need a girlfriend.