by John, Ashley
“Delilah, no,” he moaned, pushing her back into her chair with his hands firmly on her shoulders, “you're drunk.”
“I've had two glasses!” she protested, trying to lunge forwards again, but the hands kept her in place.
“Not like this,” he said, “it's not right. I wouldn't do that to you.”
The pink haze disappeared from her mind as she stared at the man that dared to reject her. There were so many men that would give their right arm to spend just a moment with the famous Delilah White. Had she met the one man who wasn't interested in her at all? Had she felt a burning lust for that man?
“Oh my god, you're gay aren't you?” she put her hand over her mouth, “You're so gay! How could I not see it before?”
Nolan laughed and leaned back into his chair, knocking back the rest of his wine. He licked the remainder of it from his lips before speaking.
“I'm not gay Delilah,” he tilted his head and smiled at her.
“So what's the problem?” she laughed.
“I just don't want to be 'that' guy. You opened up to me, and you cried. I don't want to use you,” he cocked his head back, but didn't break the eye contact.
“So what do you want from me?” she cried.
She sounded offended and hurt.
He stood up, causing the legs of the white plastic chair to bend and scrape against the balcony floor. Silently, he walked over to the edge of the balcony and leaned over, resting his forearms on the low metal railing as he peered over at the murky pool.
“Nothing,” he said casually, “I don't want anything from you.”
Delilah didn't understand.
“I just thought -”
“If I gave you that impression, I'm sorry,” he didn't turn to face her, “there's something else I didn't tell you.”
“What?”
“I was married for 6 years,” he said quietly, “I got divorced two years ago.”
That didn't bother Delilah. She didn't care about a man's relationship past. She suddenly thought to André and realized that she had another secret of her own, much worse than a divorce. A boyfriend.
“I'm sorry I tried to kiss you,” she mumbled, rubbing her temples.
Maybe it was just the wine?
“I'm sorry I let you,” he turned around and winked at her.
His cheeky and amused self returned.
She glanced to the bottle and they still had a glass each left to drink, but the mood for wine had passed.
“I think I'll go to bed,” she said, faking a yawn.
“I'll say goodnight then,” he smiled, clapping his hands together.
She stood up and Nolan walked over to her. They stood, staring at each other awkwardly for a second as they figured out the best way to say goodnight. A hug seemed too intimate, a kiss on the cheek seemed to risky and a handshake seemed too formal. Delilah decided to fill her hands up with the bottle and the two glasses so she could duck past Nolan without needing to do or say anything. He headed towards the door as she set them on the dresser next to her hundreds of dollars' worth of makeup.
She was expecting another silent exit, but he paused at the door and dropped his head.
“Have you got anything planned tomorrow?” he asked casually.
Delilah knew she didn't. She was practically free until the rehearsal.
“I don't think so,” she was already starting to unclip her extensions.
“You really should see more of Spain before you leave,” he said, almost to himself, “I'll be in touch.”
Before Delilah could protest, he ducked out of the room. The soft click of his door let her know she was safe to collapse onto her bed and grip her hair in her fists. She never wanted to be in another situation with Nolan where she would find herself trying to kiss him. She was more embarrassed than anything. She couldn't remember the last time a man had pushed her away.
As the fruity wine rushed to her head, she kicked off her heels and closed her eyes.
Nolan Rigby was just a normal guy.
A normal guy, who didn't want anything from her.
Ch
apter 9
As Delilah tried to curl her hair, she longed for air conditioning. Every time she managed to wrap her hair around the barrel of the curler, her fingers would slip and it would fall limply to her shoulders. Whenever she did successfully curl her hair, it would drop and turn straight in a matter of minutes.
“Why do you have thousands of dollars' worth of dresses in your shower, De?” Marcus called from the bathroom.
“Oh,” she mumbled, burning the end of her finger on the barrel as she tried again to curl the same piece she'd been curling for ten minutes, “I put them there.”
“Well, I know that,” he mumbled as he walked out of the bathroom, clutching the designer dresses, “but why?”
She hadn't told Marcus about Nolan's night visit and she didn't intend to. Delilah didn't know what it was, so she didn't want Marcus jumping to any conclusions. As far as she was concerned, they were just two adults drinking wine and sharing stories. Even if she didn't believe that, that was her story and she was sticking to it.
“And why are all of your shoes under the bed?” Marcus bent down and lifted up the sheet to see more discarded fashion items.
“I had a cleanup,” she tried to sound casual.
Dropping her barrel curler onto the counter, she decided to take a break from her hair to concentrate on her makeup. As she tried to steadily apply eyeliner, she longed for a makeup artists help. It had been so long since she'd had to do her own face, she wasn't sure she knew how anymore. Her mother would tell her that all girls know, but Delilah's fingers were more used to playing a guitar, not applying black stuff to her eyes.
“You, clean?” Marcus mocked, “Are you feeling okay? You didn't eat anything from that buffet did you?”
Marcus tapped her playfully on her shoulder, knocking her at the crucial moment, sending her cat-eye flick into something a lot more adventurous. Huffing, she gazed at her reflection. With one eye bare and the other with wonky eye liner, she looked a sight.
“Can I just have some peace and quiet for five minutes, so I can get ready?” she shot Marcus a look in the mirror that silenced him.
He'd stumbled back to the hotel in the early hours with the guy from the bar. Apparently he met Julia in the lobby, who tried to stop them from entering, but Marcus spun a story about the young Spanish bartender being someone for Delilah White, and if she refused him entry, she'd feel the pop star's wrath. Delilah didn't mind him using her name, because she didn't particularly like the owner. He'd insisted on pouring over every detail of their interaction, which acted as a distraction to Delilah.
“Why are there two glasses out here?” Marcus called from the balcony.
Delilah felt a sinking in her stomach as she tried to match the other eye. For a second, she thought about not saying anything. After all, Marcus was her assistant, not her friend.
“The man from next door came around last night,” her casual tone came off as defensive.
“What?” Marcus laughed, collapsing onto the messy bed, “The journo with the cute smile?”
He did have a cute smile, she agreed with that.
“Just for a quick drink,” she shook her head dismissively, “it was for an interview.”
It was the first thing she could think of.
“An interview?” Marcus screwed his face up at her through the mirror, “We don't have any extra press scheduled for the stay.”
“It was for his stupid magazine. I said I'd say a few words,” she was getting good at lying.
“Tony won't be happy about that -”
“Tony isn't here,” she snapped.
She'd messed up the other eye, so the eyeliner was even crazier.
“Questions and wine? I wonder what André would say about that.”
“Don't you have something to do?”
Marcus stopped smirking at her through the mirror and glanced down at his expo
sed stomach as he lay casually on her bed. She got back to trying to match up her eyeliner, but the more she did, the thicker and crazier it got. It looked like it was going to be another sunglasses day.
She delicately applied red lipstick which complimented the rose blush over her softly tanned skin. The heat made her decide against a heavy foundation. There was nothing more unattractive than watching somebodies face melt off.
As she stared at her reflection, she decided she didn't look that bad. Her curls had dropped out to almost nothing, giving her soft beach waves and her makeup didn't look so bad if she squinted. Guys didn't notice mismatching eyeliner anyway.
“Pool?” Marcus asked as he scrolled through his cellphone.
“I can't,” she said, “I have plans.”
“What?” he sounded hurt, “with who?”
“Nolan.”
“Who?”
“The guy from next door.”
“You're going on a date with a journalist?”
Hearing him call it a date made her tummy do strange things.
“It's not a date,” the defensiveness was back.
“What is it then?”
Delilah didn't know. The way Nolan had suggested he show her more of Spain sounded so casual and non-committal. The way he said 'I'll be in touch' sounded like a throw-away comment. Nothing had been arranged, but she was expecting him to be in touch somehow. He didn't seem like the type of guy who would blow someone off, even if that someone had tried to make a desperate pass at them the night before.
“He's a travel journalist isn't he? He just said he'd show me some sights.”
“Since when have you wanted to see sights?”
“Since now,” she shook her head at Marcus, “it's none of your business anyway.”
Marcus crammed his cellphone back into his tight denim booty shorts before holding his hands up and jumping up from her bed. His body looked scrawny and over-tanned, just like most of the guys in LA.
He told her he was going down to the pool to sunbathe, not that he needed to. As he walked out of the room, he muttered something about noticing a cute boy who worked in the hotel he'd had his eye on.
Leaving Delilah alone in the room, she sat on the edge of her bed in the silent heat, glancing at herself in the mirror. She didn't know why she was so bothered about how she looked. There was nothing going on between her and Nolan. She didn't even know if she liked him. Maybe she wouldn't even go with him today? Sunbathing seemed like the easier option.
With the sun high in the sky, late morning turned into early afternoon and Delilah started to feel even more anxious about it. She didn't know how she'd react if she didn't hear from him all day. Considering that he might be punishing her for expecting him to want to kiss her, she headed out onto her balcony.
Glancing to the right, she could see Nolan's balcony. Several pairs of tiny white underwear hung drying on the railing next to a towel and the denim shirt he'd worn the night before. An empty bottle of red wine sat on an identical table to hers, but there was no sign of Nolan.
She could already see Marcus settling into his sun lounger, unaware that Delilah could see him. He was clearly staring over his sunglasses at the young pool attendant who seemed to fishing the trash from the murky pool in nothing more than a pair of red trunks. He looked just like Marcus' type.
Just when she was about to give up and gatecrash Marcus' flirting party, there was a soft knock on the door. Quickly, she hopped through the mess on her floor and tore open the door a little too eagerly.
There was nobody there.
She glanced up and down the hall but the entire place was empty. The faint sound of Julia shouting something in Spanish floated up from the reception, but there was no sign of Nolan. She was about to march over to his room to demand answers of why she was being ignored, but something white on her door caught her eye.
A torn scrap of paper was attached to the wood with a tiny piece of tape. A couple of words were scrawled across it in beautiful and elegant writing:
'Meet me outside in an hour. N x'.
Her heart fluttered more than she'd expected it to at the note. She held it close to her chest for a second, before realizing what she was doing was slightly weird.
The way Nolan contacted her was strange and cute, and the 'x' gave her a weird feeling that wasn't unpleasant. Wondering what he could have planned, she headed back into her room to redo her hair and makeup.
The more she told herself it wasn't a date, the more she didn't believe it.
Chapter 10
The hour passed by slowly, but Delilah managed to properly curl her hair, clip in her extensions, redo her makeup and put on a different outfit. She ditched the casual denim shorts and white vest in favor of a floaty summer dress. It was the only thing she'd packed that she knew wouldn't ride up her legs or show off her cleavage.
Outside of the hotel, she glanced up and down the street for Nolan, but he was nowhere to be seen. There were still a couple of minutes to go until the entire hour had passed. As she stood on the edge of the road waiting, she could feel the eyes of all the men staring at her, which only made her grateful for picking out an outfit with more coverage than she was used to. She made eye contact with one of the men on the motorbikes which were parked up on the side of the road, and she was sure she'd seen him somewhere before.
She looked down the road, before making eye contact again with the man, before remembering where she knew those hazel eyes from.
“Nolan?”
An amused smile spread from ear to ear as he pulled his helmet off. He ruffled his thick hair back off his face and confidently dismounted the small yellow bike.
“I wondered how long it would take you to spot me,” he winked, “I thought I'd be waiting for a lot longer.”
Delilah looked past him to the bike, where a pink helmet hung from the handlebar.
“No, no, no!” she laughed, taking a step back, “Not a chance!”
“Oh come on!” his voice was low and playful, “It's the best way to get around!”
His eye winked and he bit his lip softly, revealing his perfect teeth. How could she say no?
“This is crazy,” she mumbled taking a step towards him, “When you said sightseeing, I thought you meant we'd go into town, shopping or something.”
“Pfffft!” he screwed up his face, somehow still looking handsome, “How boring does that sound?”
He jumped back on the bike and tossed the pink helmet to her, which she had to leap forward to catch.
“This is going to mess up my hair,” she protested.
“Who are you trying to impress,” he winked again.
She didn't want to tell him that she'd spent most of that hour making sure she looked perfect in every way possible. Reluctantly, she gently placed the helmet over her head and clipped it under her chin. The metal clips of her fake hair dug into the sides of her head, making them itch.
“Let's get this over with,” she sighed, hitching up her dress to perch on the back of the seat.
With their bodies pressed closely together, she was surprised how much she liked the feeling. Reminding herself that it wasn't a date, she tried to edge backwards, making space between them. Clutching onto the bars next to the seat, she deeply inhaled Nolan's aftershave. Every time she noticed it, it made her insides twitch, and it smelt nicer with each breath.
“You might want to hold on,” he said.
“I am.”
“To me,” he laughed, “it might get a bit rough back there.”
“I'm fine,” she jumped in.
The thought of wrapping her arms around him was too much. She was still far too embarrassed at trying to kiss him to make such contact.
“You're not always right y'know,” he mumbled as he jump started the small bike.
The tiny engine roared into life, and soon they were bombing down the winding cobbled road at lightning speed. Delilah clung onto the handles with all of her might as they twisted and turned down alleys and
pathways. With her eyes clenched shut, she didn't notice the locals blurring past.
“You can hold on, you know,” Nolan called through the breeze.
Delilah opened her eyes to see them hurtling up a steep road on the edge of what looked like a giant cliff. It only took one look over the edge for her arms to quickly slide around Nolan's firm stomach. The space between them vanished as she pressed herself firmly against him, clinging onto him like a life jacket.
Speeding towards their mysterious location, she could feel Nolan's solid abs tensing and relaxing every time they took a sharp corner. She didn't want to admit that it felt nice under her fingers.
They were soon driving down an almost empty dirt road next to a bright yellow sunflower field. Delilah had no idea that such places existed outside of postcards. The sky was bright blue and clear, the sun hung high in the sky and the sunflowers craned their necks to soak up the rays. It was almost perfect.
The bike suddenly slowed down, and they ground to a halt on the edge of the road. A cloud of dust cast around them as the tires ground against the dirt road.
“Why have we stopped?” Delilah asked, still clinging tightly around Nolan's waist.
“Because we're here,” Nolan laughed.
He gazed out to the field of yellow flowers, and Delilah followed. It looked like it spread out for miles and miles. There were no people, no houses and no cars. It was like they'd just climbed inside of a painting.
“I thought we were going sightseeing?” she was still shaken from the turbulent journey.
“Isn't this a sight?” he let out a long and content breath, which Delilah felt through her hands.
She had to agree, it was stunning, but she wasn't expecting such a place. She was expecting the kind of sightseeing she'd done on school trips, which consisted of looking at old stone buildings and wandering aimlessly around boring museums. She wasn't expecting an intimate slice of floral paradise.
“You can let go of me now,” Nolan glanced over his shoulder at her.
In a flash, she retracted her hands, almost embarrassed at how long she'd clung on to him after they'd stopped. She didn't even notice she was doing it.
