Not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed, I nod. “Thanks.”
As Bryn reaches the doorway, he pauses and looks back. “Sweet dreams, cariad.”
“You too.”
“Guaranteed.” He winks at me and leaves the room.
Chapter Nineteen
BRYN
Avery sleeps in and I watch TV with a bowl of cereal, feet propped up on the coffee table. The image of her from last night, her beautiful, curvy body, spent the night in my dreams. I've seen women in less and not responded like this - obsessive thoughts about peeling the scraps of material away and getting my hands and mouth on her.
She's fucking gorgeous. I call her cute, laugh at how petite she is, but she's sexy as hell.
Shit. Stop thinking about the way her tits looked, half-hidden and spilling out over the black lace.
Avery's doing the right thing by keeping me at arm's length. She’d have sex with a man who’s an emotional wreck with nothing to give her, and she deserves more. Avery's younger, at uni, will undoubtedly find a guy more suitable than me. It's not as if we'll wait for each other if I go on tour. Why should she? But for some inexplicable reason, I'd like Avery in my life longer; and allowing her close then hurting her would be the wrong thing to do.
Avery appears with my t-shirt folded over her arm, her brown hair damp. She looks younger and vulnerable and I mentally kick myself for wanting her.
“I hope you don't mind, I used your shower.”
“'Course not.”
There's no embarrassed aversion of her eyes or cautiousness; maybe she's used to friends seeing her like that. She lives with guys after all.
I set my empty bowl on the table. “Are you hungry?”
“I should probably get going to class.” The first hint of embarrassment crosses Avery's face as she fiddles with the label in my t-shirt.
Do I say anything?
“Okay. Want me to call you a cab?”
Avery's eyes widen a moment and the she nods. “I'll chat to somebody about moving in with them. I'm sure somebody will have a spare room, and I'm a bit far from uni here and–”
“Slow down. No hurry.”
“I'm uncomfortable, Bryn.”
“What? Because I saw–”
“Don't say it!” says Avery, rubbing her face. “Please.”
“It didn't mean anything,” I lie. “I'm used to seeing chicks with no clothes on.”
Not a lie.
“Yeah, I bet,” she says stiffly.
“But sorry if I embarrassed you.”
Avery shrugs nonchalantly. “No problem.” But I can see from her pale face it is.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about though. You're an attractive girl.”
Avery sucks on her bottom lip and shakes her head. Is she about to cry? I stand and cross the room, fighting against taking hold of her. “Are you really okay?”
“I'm fine. Tired. Overwhelmed.” She steps back, increasing the personal space between us and avoiding my eyes.
“I'll call you a cab.”
Avery sits in the armchair while we wait and I'm at a loss what to say, because when I mentioned the situation a few minutes ago, things got worse.
****
“Who's the chick?” Liam watches as Avery disappears into the opposite end of the apartment.
Once Avery went to uni, I kicked around the place bored until Liam arrived this afternoon. Inevitably, we ended up gaming and drinking. Avery returned this afternoon, took one look at Liam, and with a quiet hello walked away.
“Avery? She stayed last night.” I concentrate on the avatars on screen, loading my gun, and sheltering behind a tank. Explosions rain down around us.
“You still picking up random chicks? Or is this one more permanent?” Liam looks away from the screen; he couldn't look more stunned if he tried.
“Kind of. Pay attention, they have snipers!” I hit the buttons on the controller.
“Another one?”
“What?” I'm half-paying attention, increasingly pissed off with Liam's lack of help in the on-screen battle. “Come on! We're losing!”
“You've had a few girls recently.”
“Avery's different. Her house is flooded. She stayed here last night. In her own room. Leaving today.” I stutter out the sentences as the explosions continue. “She's cool, no sex. Shit! Behind you!”
Liam's continual staring at me and not the screen results in his avatar's death and an ambush I can't deal with alone.
“Fuck! Liam!” I throw the controller onto the sofa next to him.
“Who is she? I recognise her.”
“She was at your wedding.” I grab a beer and sit back.
“I thought I heard a Welsh accent. Does she know Cerys?”
“No, she was a waitress.”
“Ah!” Liam laughs. “I heard about that. What's with you two then? How come you’re involved?”
That is a long and complicated story, not one I want to share.
“She's pretty hot though, Bryn. Cute ass and…” Liam makes a hand gesture in front of his chest and raises an eyebrow.
My scalp prickles. “I wouldn't let Cerys hear you say something like that.”
Liam shrugs. “Like I'm going to stop noticing other chicks just because I'm married, doesn't mean I'm gonna touch anyone else.”
“Definitely don't let Avery hear you talk about her like that!”
“Really? Can’t imagine her biting. She's quiet, makes Cerys look like an extrovert!”
I shake my head. “Don't you believe it.”
Avery walks back into the room wearing a baggy green shirt and jeans, feet bare. When she arrived home from class earlier to pack up and leave, she fumbled her words around Liam and won't look at him now. I’m happy for her to stay, but Avery insists on leaving.
“Anybody want anything from the kitchen?” she asks in a quiet voice. “I’m going to make a drink before I go.”
“Nope,” says Liam.
“I'm good, thanks, Avery.” She gives me a curious look at my over-politeness.
Liam pushes my arm when she walks away again. “Tell the truth! That's who was in the pictures with you! Kissing a chick in public in the middle of London, man, it’s a good job you’re not Dylan!”
“We're not sleeping together. It's… We're taking things slow.”
“Dude!” Liam laughs. “You go from one extreme to another. One-night hook ups to a sudden girlfriend. What's with that?”
“Boredom.”
“Huh. At least she's not Mia.”
“Right.”
Sitting back with his beer, Liam props his long legs on my coffee table stroking his chin. “Avery's hot for you though. Let me help.”
“Help?”
“Speed things up.” He winks.
“No, Liam.”
Avery appears with a glass of juice.
“Avery.” She pauses as Liam calls her name. “Me and Cerys are having a party on Saturday? You free?”
Avery turns bright pink and I pray she's not going to drop her glass. “Umm.”
“You don't mind your
friend
coming with you, do you, Bryn?” asks Liam and smirks at me.
“If she wants to come, I don't mind.”
“I don't think–”
“It's not a big thing, just a few friends for drinks. Bryn said he wanted you there.”
“Liam, man, just stop it.”
“I'll think about it.” Avery scurries off and I clench and unclench my fist, unable to figure out why Liam spoke to her like that or why she's different around him.
Married life obviously doesn't take the rock star out of Liam.
Chapter Twenty
AVERY
I left Bryn’s apartment the day after the Great Flood and Underwear Incident, and now reside with a girl from my Lit class. I haven't told Bryn I'm sleeping on her sofa; otherwise, he'd hassle me into staying at his home. I was unsure about his offer the first time and I don't fancy days of dancing round each other while I pretend Bryn isn't the Adonis of a man he is, while he respects my wishes about keeping sex out of things. If only Bryn knew half the wishes I had about him, not to mention the dreams, he’d try a lot harder.
So, no. I can't live with Bryn, get caught in the heat of a heavy moment, and walk away ashamed. If a man doesn't love me, he doesn't get to take me to bed. Problem is, every day Bryn heads closer to being the exception to that rule.
Following the week when we hardly saw each other, this week we’ve caught up every day. When Bryn said he wanted to date me, he wasn’t joking. The ice skating, the night at his home, then random catch-ups the rest of the week. We’ve had a couple of café dates, a meal at the Thai place local to my friend’s house, and even a trip to the movies where Bryn groaned his way through the chick flick and I spent a lot of time keeping his hands off me. Ordinary, non-celebrity dates. This man listens to me, takes on board what I do and don’t want to do, which is weird.
The more time I spend with Bryn, the closer we become and so does the time when he needs to leave. This isn’t about Bryn trying to get me into bed, despite his constant hopeful innuendo, but it’s also not about a relationship. He hasn’t mentioned what will happen after next week, and I don’t want to spoil the illusion by asking. Bryn lives in moments of randomness, his infectious attitude to life rubs off, and I relax.
I’m curious about the girl he mentioned, the one he’s getting over. Sometimes, it’s obvious she’s on his mind, in moments of distracted distance from me. Bryn tells me he’s worrying about the tour, but I occasionally see a confused sadness I don’t understand. In a way, this hurts because I doubt our strange relationship will continue, but in another way, his distance helps because this way I don’t get my hopes up. So, I enjoy the fun and will deal with how I feel when he goes.
This evening, Bryn persuades me to go to Liam’s, back to the celebrity world we’ve avoided. I tug my long brown coat around myself. The main reason I'm here is because I'm calling Liam's bluff. Annoyed for getting tongue-tied around him, I want to show him I'm a functioning member of society. Usually. Swallowing down the thought of how many famous and therefore probably obnoxious people I might subject myself to tonight, I follow Bryn to the front door of Liam's St John’s Wood home.
The white house is set back from the busy street, unobtrusive security gates set in a high wall matching the house and tall willow trees act as a natural barrier for privacy. Several cars are parked on the driveway, indicating the party may be bigger than I hoped.
Bryn takes my hand and squeezes as we reach the double front doors. “Okay?”
“I feel like I'm about to meet your parents.”
He laughs. “I'm about to introduce you to my second family; I guess I see what you mean.”
Cerys opens the door. I instantly relax at her genuine smile. “Hello, Avery. Liam told me about you.”
The relaxation vanishes. What did he say? “Hey, um… nice to meet you.”
Cerys steps back, understatedly gorgeous in her loose black blouse over skinny jeans; at least the party is as informal as Bryn said.
“Go through, there's wine and nibbles in the kitchen.”
I'm unaware how glued to the spot I am until Bryn's hand in the small of my back propels me along the hallway. The smell of baking leads us to the kitchen, where the sound of voices carries from an adjoining room.
I take in the large, farmhouse-style kitchen of pine cupboards interspersed with modern stainless steel furnishings, including a fridge with a child's pictures attached by magnets. Plates of food are laid out on the large kitchen table.
Cerys follows us in. “I’ll take your coats.”
I dutifully hand mine over and she disappears again.
Bryn pours me a glass of white wine from a bottle on the counter and hands it to me as he pushes a miniature spring roll into his mouth with his other hand. “Here. I'm bloody starving!”
“Thanks.” I continue my wide-eyed, village idiot impression.
“You didn't have to come,” he says. “I'm surprised you wanted to.”
“How many people know about me?”
“You saw the pictures, several million I think.” As predicted, pictures of my and Bryn's passionate embrace have been shared the world over. Luckily, on the same day, the Kardashians had a new baby, or released a new clothing range, or fresh sex tape, or something; the Blue Phoenix drummer was a momentary blip. Thank God.
“That was your fault, you kissed me!” I protest.
“You started it!”
“I did not!”
Bryn bites his lip. “Ah, cariad, you're too easy to tease sometimes.”
Right. I can play that game too.
I tiptoe so my face is closer to his. “I bet I tease you more.”
Bryn's arm winds around my waist and the wine sloshes the side of the glass as he pulls me closer. “You have no idea.”
Tugging his hand away, I step back. “I think I do.”
As I sip my wine, Bryn bites his lip and shakes his head slowly.
“What I meant is have you talked to your friends about me? What have you said?”
Bryn frowns and rubs his head. “That we're dating?”
“Dating. Aren't we cute?”
Bryn fights a smile. “One of us is–”
“Dangerous territory, Bryn. Call me cute and you're in trouble.”
“I'll look forward to that.”
I smack his hand away as it sneaks around to my backside.
“Ready for battle?” he asks.
Resisting the urge to lurk in the kitchen as I usually do at parties, I hesitantly follow Bryn into a huge room with a small number of people in.
The room stretches to the back of the house ending in double glass doors to the garden. Expensively furnished with formal lounges, there’s a huge twelve-seater dining table, which is set off to one side in front of French windows. Amongst the order are the unmistakable traces of a child living in the house – toys in a box, handprints on the wall, and discarded books on the table.
I instantly spot Liam's across the room talking to two guys with their backs to me. My stomach prepares to throw itself out of my mouth as I approach. The men don't need to turn around for me to know who they are. Blue Phoenix. Cerys stands close to a doorway at the opposite end of the room and chats to a girl with wavy blonde hair, who I recognise as Sky Morgan. The lead singer of Ruby Riot, Ruby, sits apart on a blue sofa, long scarlet hair falling across her face and focuses on her phone while the others chat around her.
Bryn marches us over to the group of men. “Hey, guys, remember Avery?”
He may as well have shone a spotlight on me because the other group in the room turn to look at me too.
“I do,” says Liam.
“Are you the girl he's moved in?” asks the taller of the two men and looks around.
Dylan. Morgan. Before my lust for Bryn, this man often took a trip into my daydreams and although he's oozing sexuality at a rate to match the rest of the room, Bryn has now eclipsed him. He’s as tall as Bryn but not as solidly built with a bemused look on his beautiful, sculpted face and in his blue eyes. If I wasn’t already sick with the mingling fear and excitement, Dylan’s star presence may have had a bigger effect.
“No, I left again,” I tell him.
Bryn takes hold of my hand.
“Your love life is confusing, man,” says Dylan. “You have nobody for ages and then too many to handle!”
“There's only Avery now,” says Bryn, sharply.
“Hello, Avery.” Dylan gives me a friendly smile but flicks a curious look at Bryn.
I think I reply. I'm increasingly dazzled by the brightness of the star-filled room so I’m not entirely sure I manage more than an indecipherable noise.
Jem glances at me but doesn't speak, which is a relief because his reputation scares me. Jem nods at Bryn before going over to Ruby on the sofa, where he laces his hand through Ruby’s, and she leans into him. I watch as they switch to talking in low voices and shut out everybody else.
I am a social caterpillar, not butterfly. I don't flit around happily at parties, I hide and eat too much. For a bizarre reason, an image of The Very Hungry Caterpillar enters my mind and I giggle to myself. Bryn mouths 'what?' and I shake my head, focusing on a spot in the room with nobody famous in.
I daren't look at who is in the other group.
I'm fine amongst people I know but put me in a room with people I don't and my awkward nature takes over. Put me in a room with famous people I don't know and watch as I lose all vestiges of normal social behaviour.
Remaining next to Bryn, I study the contents of my wine glass.
“Yes, definitely wine.” I look up at Cerys. “Are you okay?” she asks.
“I'm okay.”
“Overwhelmed?”
“You could say that.”
She touches me lightly on the arm. “Come and help me carry some plates through.”
Gratefully, I head back into the kitchen. A fluffy white dog crosses toward me, nails clattering on the stone floor, tail wagging as it looks up at me.
“He wants some of the food,” says Cerys. “Olaf! Go away!” She shoos the dog into the hallway and closes the door. “I bet Liam let him in. Ella will be sneaking down to take Olaf to bed with her!”
“Is Ella your daughter?”
“She is, and has Liam wrapped around her little finger. Hence the dog I don't want.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Hmm.” Cerys grabs a pair of red and white checked oven gloves before dragging trays containing tiny parcels of pastry from the large oven. “You're Welsh too?” she asks as she tips the food onto a square platter.
“Yes. Pembroke.”
“Not far from us then; I mean where we grew up, me and the guys. Why did you choose London?”
“I wanted to get out of Wales.” I'm ashamed, but it's true. More a desire to escape a small-town life than the specific country; I fiercely defend my Welsh roots if anybody decides to poke fun at me.
Cerys laughs. “And there's Liam and Bryn wanting to go back there!”
“Really?”
“Well, Liam married me and Bryn's with you.”
I want to say to Cerys that I wish her words were true, but they're not and may never be. Bryn won't let go of whatever is holding him back, and I can't commit physically. The 'I'm an ordinary girl and he's a rock star' excuse doesn't work considering Liam’s and Dylan's choice of partners, so I smile and nod.
“I'm glad Bryn found you. He wasn't himself for a while, but his sense of humour's back.” She arranges the triangles on the plates, carefully pushing them into a pattern. “Has he ever spoken to you about why he went off the rails?”
Odd question. Doesn't Bryn talk to his friends? I thought he was close to them all and he's open with me, mostly. “Bryn told me he had a relationship end recently and that he wasn't dealing with it well.”
“Relationship?” Cerys straightens and her lips purse. “You're the only girl I've seen him in a relationship with.”
This time I correct Cerys. “We're casual; it's not really a relationship.”
“You think?”
I gulp my wine and pretend not to hear. “Do you want me to carry a platter out?” I put down my glass and pick one up.
Suddenly my refuge with Cerys is more uncomfortable than the room full of people.
“Sure.” Cerys takes the other square plate and gestures for me to go first. “The way Bryn looks at you, I'd say he wants more than casual. I mean, if he's around after you've had sex, you're doing better than most girls recently.”
“We've not…” I stop myself. I have no reason to tell Cerys this. “I don't feel close enough to him and I don't want to get hurt.”
“Don't you see what he thinks of you in his eyes when you look at him? I’ve seen how he looks at you and that look is more than casual. Besides, the whole time we've been in here, he keeps looking over.”
Mistakenly, I glance around. Bryn is positioned across the room in view of the kitchen and smiles as soon as our eyes meet.
She nudges me with her elbow. “See! And don't worry; the Bryn I know is a great guy, not a heartbreaker. I don't think he'd hurt you.”
“We're at a stalemate. He's holding something back and so am I.”
Cerys laughs. “Men say women are complicated but I don't think there's anything straightforward about them either.”
“Very true.” We step back into the room.
“Anyway, Bryn's been seen in public with you and now you're here, so I think you mean plenty to him,” she says matter-of-factly as the hubbub in the room prevents me responding.
I place the platter on the large dining table and turn, bumping into the group nearby. Somebody catches my arm and I turn around to face Cas James, English actor and perfecter of bad boy TV roles – werewolf, soap opera villain, biker, he's played them all and his star is rising straight into Hollywood skies.