by Lisa Swallow
“You won’t fail, cariad,” he says. “I think you’re more capable than you realise.”
We lapse into silence again, Bryn disappearing into his own thoughts. I tap the side of the cool wine glass and sit with my own thoughts. Together, we create a strangely peaceful environment, even more enjoyable for me because the room isn’t the temperature of a fridge.
The stressful evening and wine conspire to make me sleepy and I stifle a yawn. “I should go soon.”
Bryn breaks his reverie. “Stay?”
“It’s fine; call me a cab.”
The expectation hovers, the unspoken attempts to gauge what happens next, read body language cues. Intense brown eyes look into mine and tell me exactly what he’s planning to do. I fight to hide what I want from showing in mine, but I’m damn sure I’m easily readable.
Bryn breaks the moment and sets his empty glass on the table. “I’ll be straight with you, Avery. I’m not a nice guy to be around right now. I’m getting over a… thing I had with a girl and I’ve basically been getting drunk and screwing around.”
“Oh.” Maybe, not then.
“When I called you, hooking-up was in my mind, but when I saw you, I kinda felt different. You’re a nice girl. I can’t treat you like that; plus, you’re a smart girl and wouldn’t let me. So, I told myself this was the same as last time we met, just a bit of fun with no expectations.”
I rub my tired eyes. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”
He shuffles closer; both knees are touching mine, the electricity hovering between us ready to spark at any moment. “Problem is I enjoyed being with you tonight, more than I thought I would. I’d forgotten how attractive you are.” He pushes some of my hair over my shoulder, fingers brushing my skin.
We’ve completely misread each other; either that or being alone and close has knocked a hole in the idea we could ‘kind of date but nothing else’. As suspected by his shift in focus, a rock star’s expectations won’t match what I’m prepared to give him.
I swallow and focus on controlling my breathing. “Stop, Bryn. I wouldn’t sleep with someone on a first date anyway. I don’t care if you’re famous.”
Bryn’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Do you kiss on first dates?”
“Apparently so, since you kissed me last time.”
“So if I kissed you tonight, that would be okay?”
My chest constricts as I stare at his mouth, our combined blood alcohol makes this more likely by the second.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
“If it’s just a kiss? I didn’t do so well with the last one, apparently. Can I try again?”
“The last one was good. I mean… Um…”
He cups my face with his large palm. “I want to kiss you.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I mean, okay I understand, not okay you can–” I hardly get the words out before Bryn’s mouth crashes on mine, wiping the confusion over the whole situation away. The suddenness is matched by my surprising, overwhelming need to respond. I grab Bryn round the neck and kiss him back. Hard. He grips my hair in his fist, holding my head so I can’t move, deepening his kiss. My resolve is snatched away by the intensity of the moment as I relish the way his tongue explores my mouth, the intoxication of the alcohol nothing close to that of the taste and scent of Bryn Hughes and his hands on me.
Bryn holds my waist with his other arm and pulls me onto him as he leans back on the sofa and I’m all for climbing on top of him and undoing his shirt buttons. Marvelling at my restraint, I dig my fingers into his curls and the kiss continues; neither of us stopping for air. My body reacts in a way I’ve never experienced, moments of touching and kissing and an aching need for more blinds me. I have never met a man who can turn me on this much by doing so little.
His hands roam to my backside and he shifts below me. When I’m aware of the erection straining between us, I tense because I’m losing my grip on the sensible Avery. Bryn lets go of my ass and pulls his mouth away. Our hot, heavy breaths mingle and every nerve ending in my body is alight as he rests his forehead on mine.
“Just a kiss?” he asks hoarsely. “Look at you, pinning me down!”
“I am not!”
He moves so I have to sit back. “Keep this up and I’ll want more than a kiss.” Bryn pushes hair from his face and he stares at my now dishevelled state. “My self-control is pretty crap currently.”
The connotation of Bryn’s words niggles and dampens some of the arousal. “You’re not adding me to your collection of girls you screw.”
“I get that. I did tell you that’s what I am right now.”
I rub my lips together and look away. He kisses other girls like this and doesn’t stop; I’m nothing special. “Yes, you did.”
“Maybe if we see each other more, things could change?”
I pull my dress back down where it has shifted too far up my legs. “Two weeks and then you’re on tour. You and me aren’t destined, are we?”
“We could have some fun until I go away?”
The aching between my legs and hardened nipples are suggesting I could have fun right now, but I can’t sleep with a man who currently uses women for sex.
“Maybe.”
Refusing a rock star sex? Chances I’ll see him again: zero.
“You can still stay if you like. Sleep in the spare room. I promise not to climb into bed with you.”
His insistence is odd. “After that dickhead’s comments tonight? I don’t want to add fuel to the ‘Bryn has a harem’ headline.”
He chuckles. “You’re funny. Would do wonders for my image, though, two girls,” he says, a teasing grin spreading across his face.
“Really, Bryn?” I say in disgust but fight smiling back at him. “Call me a cab.”
Bryn pulls a face. “If you insist.”
Cab booked, Bryn joins me on the sofa again, and, bizarrely, takes my hand as he sits next to me. “Will you be seen in public with me again?”
His words sound odd and I giggle. “I should ask you that question.”
“I mean, in case you find yourself blasted across social media.”
“You’re the drummer remember? I have nothing to worry about.” The intercom buzzes and I jump. “Time to go.”
At the door, we pause for an awkward moment until Bryn leans in and his mouth hovers close to my face. I brace myself for another assaulting kiss but his lips meet mine with the briefest of touches.
“Thanks for the date, cariad.”
“Any time, mountain man.”
He runs a finger down my nose. “I’ll call tomorrow.”
Highly doubting he will, I head for the elevator and waiting taxi.
Chapter Fifteen
AVERY
Bryn doesn’t call.
A small, deluded part of me expected him to contact me, but what sense would it make for him to date an ordinary girl who refused him sex. I mope longer than acceptable, until, a week later, my irritation with myself allows me to draw a line under the episode. Whatever agenda he had for our date the other night was successful, otherwise he’d be asking for more.
But why kiss me?
Say those things?
The guy is messed up.
Sitting in pub where I often meet my friends after class, I twist my glass of coke around on the table. Ben approaches and dumps his messenger bag on the seat next to me.
“Evening, Avery.” He scoots across the seat next to me with his pint.
“Hey, hipster dude.”
Ben scowls and I stroke my face to indicate his thickening brown beard.
“Beards are sexy. Girls love them,” he says.
“Really? How’s that working out for you?” I bite back a smile. “I must have missed the parade of girls heading to your bedroom.”
Ben shrugs and drinks. “How about you? Saw you on Facebook with a rock star. Was that for real?”
“No. He’s a friend. I was doing him a favour.” I clamp my
mouth closed. A week since the party and Bryn was right; my fame was five minutes. One picture on social media, eclipsed by a scandal between a footballer and his best friend’s wife.
“A friend? That’s weird.”
My thoughts exactly.
“Have you applied for your training next year yet?” asks Ben.
“Not yet. I can’t decide whether to stay in London or move back to Wales.”
“I thought you didn’t want to go back to Wales?”
“I know, but I could train there. Maybe try and get a place training in my old school.”
Ben rubs his beard. “Hmm. No way am I going back to Gloucester.”
The doubt over my ability to follow through and become a teacher won’t leave. It was sweet of Bryn to say the things he did, but I’m a long way off being a confident woman about town. At least I chose to be a primary teacher; high school teaching would be a nightmare. Being taller than my pupils is an advantage, although I don’t know what they feed kids these days because some primary kids are the same height as me.
“You have to make the decision soon, Avery.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Or if you’re not ready, take a year out.”
“And do what?”
“Travel.”
“I don’t think so.” Shy, impractical, and badly co-ordinated me travelling? Sure.
He yawns. “Why did I enrol in late classes?”
“Because you didn’t get your arse out of bed in time to enrol for earlier ones.”
“Meh.” Ben drains his glass and thrusts it at me. “Your round.”
“That didn’t last long!”
“I’m thirsty.” Ben flutters his eyelashes and I shake my head at him then head for the bar.
The other friend I’m meeting, Michelle, passes me on the way as she heads to our table. “Get me one too!”
“Sure.”
Three beers ordered and paid for, I turn around.
“Cariad!”
I halt.
There is only one person I have ever heard use that word.
I grip the beers and squint across the pub. A group of people are spread between the bar and one of the large tables in the corner, half a dozen people in various states of inebriation.
Standing at the edge of the table, arm outstretched to indicate me, is Bryn.
“Look! She’s here! It’s my favourite almost girlfriend!”
Bryn Hughes, shouting at me in the middle of a crowded pub skyrockets my pulse. Partly I’m embarrassed. I hate being centre of attention and partly… it’s Bryn. For a moment, every second of the passionate kiss last week floods my mind, and my body flares to life.
Is he drunk?
The muscles of the broad chest he once squashed me against are visible where his shirt is unbuttoned at the top, his ink contrasting brightly against the dark material.
Does he get sexier every time I see him or is that just me?
Get a grip.
Condensation drips down the side of the three glasses I’m holding in a triangle between my hands, my hold slipping with the water and the shock.
Too late.
A glass hits the floor, and I swear under my breath as broken glass and beer cover my feet. A rock star yelling my name across a busy pub isn’t enough to draw attention to myself; I guess I’ll start smashing the glassware as well.
Wishing the ground would open and swallow me, I crouch down to pick up the broken shards.
Bryn approaches to help. “Still dropping things?”
“Your fault,” I mutter.
He crouches too. “You’ll cut yourself.”
“I’m an expert,” I reply, gingerly piling the larger chunks into my palm.
“Right.” Bryn joins in and we remove most of the glass and place it on a nearby empty table.
Five minutes ago, I arrived here for a post-lecture, quiet drink with Ben; and now the peaceful nature of my day has shattered with the glass on the floor. “What are you doing in a divey student pub?” I ask.
“With these guys.” He flourishes his hands at the group in the corner. I glance over. They look like students too, a combination of young guys and girls drinking and talking loudly. Why would Bryn hang out with students?
I stand, holding the broken pieces carefully. “Still, not your kind of place.”
“I’m the drummer, remember? They won’t recognise me unless I’m with Dylan or Jem.” His eyes flick to where the top of my breasts are exposed by leaning forward. “Or if they’ve had the pleasure of my company before.”
With sticky fingers, I pull my shirt into a more modest position and Bryn meets my unimpressed look with an amused one as he bites the corner of his lip. Bryn’s clearly had a few, his face flushed and eyes not focused.
He opens his mouth to say something.
“Jesus, Avery! How many did you break?” Ben appears at my shoulder, flicks a look between me and Bryn, and hands me a dustpan and brush. “I got you this.”
Pink with the spectacle I’m creating, I bend back down to sweep up the shards. A barmaid appears and gives me a sour look, before grabbing the brush from me.
“Sorry,” I say quietly.
“Doesn’t matter.” She looks at Bryn and pushes her dark brown fringe from her eyes, presumably attempting to figure out who he is. But whoever’s behind Bryn at the table catches her attention more. “Oh! Are you friends with Ruby Riot?”
Bryn gives her a drunken grin. “Yeah. Want an intro? Was gonna introduce Avery too.”
He winds a too-friendly arm across my shoulder and whispers. “Told you nobody would recognise me.”
Ruby Riot. I’ve heard a couple of tracks by the band on nights out and I know they gig a fair bit around here, but I’ve never paid attention or seen them. The guitarist studies at UCL, I think; I have a friend, Amy, who semi-stalks him. She’ll be furious she wasn’t with me tonight. How does Bryn feel that he’s unrecognised as the drummer from Blue Phoenix but a less-famous band are instantly spotted?
Bryn propels me to his table. “Hey, guys. This is Avery.”
A blond guy, with a girl attached to him, gives me a nod, as if an introduction isn’t necessary. Two other guys, identical, black, spiked hair and less-than-sober looks blink at me before returning to their conversation with the attentive girls they’re with. A quick look at the three of them and I can spot which is the guy Amy lusts after. Attractive guy, captivating blue eyes that lock you into his trajectory and an ego to match his looks judging by the slow smile he gives me. Jax, I think his name is, not that anybody is going to introduce themselves to me. Bryn sits and pats the edge of the bench next to him, indicating I should sit.
“Are you Bryn’s chick?” asks Jax.
“No!” I reply and glance at Bryn.
“I told you; she’s my almost girlfriend.”
Told him and the rest of London.
“Right.” He looks from me to Bryn. “What’s one of those?”
“Avery’s one of those.”
“Nah, I mean what does she do.”
Bryn rubs his cheek and I steel myself for his answer. Why did I agree to let him introduce me to his friends? Oh right, I didn’t. “We date but not really. Mostly. I kissed her. Twice. I’m not sure she liked it. Too much tongue I think.” He snorts to himself and drinks.
At what point did I indicate I didn’t like his kiss?
“You’re drunk, Bryn.”
“You’re very observant, cariad.” He knocks back his remaining beer.
One of the guys with spiked black hair arches his pierced brow and studies me with renewed interest. I step back, indignation pushing out the embarrassment. “I think I should leave.”
“Aww, Avery Paige, I’m teasing. I’m happy to see you.” Bryn catches my hand and grips, the strength crushing my fingers.
“Bryn, leave me alone,” I hiss.
“Please? I liked you. Like you. Have some drinks”
A girl sitting to the right of Bryn gives me a look, whi
ch makes the one the barmaid gave me friendly. I count the number of girls around the table. Four guys, four girls. The blonde girl next to Bryn places a hand on his thigh and continues to give me a proprietary look.
My stomach lurches and when I don’t look away, she shifts around and places a hand on his chest. Bryn doesn’t respond but he also doesn’t stop her.
The tiny voice that’s suggested one day Bryn would call me for another date is silenced. Who am I kidding? He’s a rock star. She’s a leggy blonde. They’re a match. I’m an idiot.
“I’m leaving,” I say firmly.
“Aww.” He pouts in an exaggerated manner and drops my hand. “Call me?”
Without responding, I head to my friends across the pub and grab my bag with shaking hands. “I’m going. I have things to do.”
“Was that…?” asks Ben.
“See you at the house.”
Before I’m assailed with twenty questions about Bryn or Ruby Riot, I hightail it out of the pub in case anything else disastrous or mortifying happens.
Chapter Sixteen
BRYN
Mia’s gone.
No word from Hannah. I checked the old email account but nothing. I haven’t heard from her for weeks now. Some days, I think about her a lot, other days not. I’m moving on slowly.
I intended to call Avery the day after the party but life got in the way. Steve lost his shit about the lack of rehearsal time we’ve had for the tour, and I found myself locked in a studio with the guys for the best part of a week. The animosity colouring the edges of Blue Phoenix’s world has faded, notably between Dylan and Jem. There’s an air of distraction they share which interferes instead, but once we get focused, the tracks roll like the early days.
Ruby Riot rehearses in the next studio and part of Jem’s distraction lies in there. I would never have expected Jem to be starry-eyed over a girl. I’ve watched and tried to stop his self-destruction over the years; I’m bloody glad Ruby knocked through the ironclad walls he built around himself. Things had better work out between them.
When the guys dutifully head back to their respective wives and girlfriends in the evenings, Hannah sneaks into my mind. Before I have a chance to replace Hannah with Avery by asking to see her, I’m tempted away by the idea of relaxation and alcohol by the Ruby Riot guys.
