Trust (London Love #5)

“G,” I repeated quietly, tasting it. He didn’t feel like a G to me. Maybe not to him either, as he was staring at his hands.

“What’s up?” I asked gently. I was surprisingly calm. It was a new state for me, having fought all kinds of diagnoses since my teens. ADHD was only one of my many letter combinations that my usually fried brain couldn’t deal with. When I’d first been medicated, I’d felt even worse than when I’d been popping stuff that was nowhere near legal, but I was on a good combo of meds now that didn’t make me feel like a zombie. Instead they gave me this. A sense of space where I could hear myself think.

And apparently, I’d said all that shit out loud. No surprise. Sometimes my mouth talked before my brain engaged. Sometimes my brain just shot shit out of my mouth.

“Meds are good,” he said, watching me like he was trying to figure me out. Usually people looked at me like I was a freak when I got my little pill boxes out and shoved a bunch of little colourful shapes into my mouth, like I was doing now, seeing as I’d told him anyway. I had to take them. Keep myself on the straight and narrow. Not disappoint my dad. Keep my job. Stay sane.

“Keeps me functioning. I used to get all messed up. Piss people off. Do stupid shit that no kid should ever do. It’s better now.”

“Tell me about it. I’m on a bunch of sleeping pills and anti-anxiety meds. The life of a huge superstar.”

I laughed. “Seems to me you slept pretty well. You still have the bed sheets imprinted on your face.”

He smirked. “I sleepwalk. I have to take them so I don’t fall down some death stairs somewhere and break my neck in public. You know?”

“Bullshit,” I said. Not that I doubted him, but it was rare I met someone who was even more fucked up than me. And that was way fucked up.

“So you really need someone to lock the door on you from the outside? Like you’re some…I don’t know. Do you even know you’re doing it?”

He laughed. I liked that.

“Reubs. I have money in the bank. I work, like…all the time. I have a team of bodyguards pretty much living in my house—”

I had to stop him there. Holding my hand up as I shook my head. “At all times?”

“Yeah.” He sighed.

“That’s some serious… I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Neither do I. It’s all…well, I had a stalker. Someone I thought was a…a friend. And they kind of…were in my house when I wasn’t there. Slept in my bed. Touched my stuff. Turned up in the middle of the night and scared the shit out of me. And the stress and working, and then there were some threats online, and my management thought…”

“Dude.” I was a bit weirded out that he was telling me all this. It was stuff I could go to the press with. Not that I would. Because look. I wasn’t a dick. Most of the time.

“So why are you here? You’ve kind of spilled a lot of crap right there. So now you need to elaborate.”

“I might need some more food for that.”

“That was two double burgers and a shit load of fries.”

“And full-fat Coke. I’m sugared up now. Feeling the high.”

Okay. I took it all back. Dieter was rolling his eyes and giggling hysterically.

“Gray,” I tried. And his head kind of snapped back into place. “Don’t put on that stupid whatever bullshit. You don’t have to impress me. I am already impressed. And…”

He got up and grabbed his rucksack off the floor. Opened it up and dug around. Placed two bars of chocolate on the table between us.

“Secret stash,” he muttered, back to looking down.

“You carry chocolate in your bag,” I said sternly. Then I sat back and crossed my arms. “Like a totally normal person. I’m so disappointed I could cry. Here I was, assuming The Great Dieter would at least have a baggy of cocaine in there. Gold bars. Stacks of fifty-pound notes.”

“You’re weird.”

“And you’re bloody insane. Why the hell are you here, Gray?”

“Told you!” he almost shouted. “I was going to bring someone, but that was months ago, and he psyched out on me, and I hate my house, and I can’t even take a shit in private without some bloody bodyguard coming to check on me. I have no food in my fridge because people like me can’t go shopping, and this stalker thing totally did a number on me. So that? That’s why I’m here. Because…my life fucking sucks, and I just wanted a little bit of peace and quiet. On my own.”

That told me. He was hyperventilating and looking all unhinged and actually scaring me a bit.