Trust (London Love #5)

“I have no choice. I know I sound like a broken record, but it’s my job. I need to get out of this slump and just get on with it. Have my photo taken. Answer questions from a script. Write some stupid lyrics. Put music to them.”

“Do you actually play an instrument?”

“No.” I had people for that. I could hum out what I wanted, but play it? No. Josh was good at stuff like that, getting the software on his laptop to magically churn out the melodies. I could barely tap a tambourine along to the beat. But I could sing. As long as I had earphones in and knew what I was doing. “I’m actually pretty useless with most things. I get told what to do, and then I just do it.”

“Don’t be stupid. I’ve seen you, remember? You have that…what do they call it? That…stage presence. You make eighty thousand people feel like you’re their best mate. You’re a right flirt on stage. You wiggle your fingers and people scream.”

“Stupid, isn’t it? Not quite a degree in astrophysics.”

“I have no degrees. I don’t even have my school leaving papers. Wasn’t a priority when I was supposed to get my shit together. Doesn’t matter. Not now. I have a job and get to go to work and hang out with some nice people. Sort stuff out, you know? People get into all kinds of pickles at that hotel, and I get to sort it out for them. Problem solving. I’m good at that.”

He made me smile.

“Can you solve my problems for me?” I really meant it too.

“Mate…” He tapped my nose with his finger. “You’re fine, you know that, don’t you? You’re a nice guy. You just need to figure out how to balance the pop star with the real guy who— Stop it! Mr Snuggles is mine!”

No longer, since I’d snagged him with a swift flick of my hand, and now he was nicely tucked against my chest, my chin on his head.

“Just borrowing him. You’re right. He’s really…comfortable.”

“You should always have something to hug when you sleep. A pillow. Mr Snuggles. Whatever. My dad rolls up his spare duvet and holds it like it’s an actual person. He needs a girlfriend. Refuses to even date, though. Thinks he’s totally past it.”

“Nobody is past it,” I blurted out without meaning to. I’d spent the last however long telling myself I was done with dating, but even I wasn’t past it.

“What happened to the guy you were going to stay at the hotel with?”

“Bah.” I really didn’t want to go there. “Some idiot I hooked up with. I thought he was a friend. Turns out he wasn’t really interested apart from to say he’d done me. I broke up with him. He didn’t take the hint. It got…weird. It’s just the way things are.”

“Was he the guy?” He looked at me. Really looked at me.

“Yeah. As I said, it got weird. Kind of scary. You don’t expect to wake up and find your ex sat next to you in bed in the middle of the night.”

“Scary.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t put yourself down. You’re only one person. Doing the best you can.”

“I know. But sometimes your best isn’t good enough, is it? There are just things I’m no good at. I try, but it messes with your head when you realise you’ve totally fucked up.”

“True.” Reuben smiled. I wasn’t sure he’d quite grasped what I was saying. “I was really shit at school. Disruptive. Up to no good most of the time. Smoking weed in the toilets. Setting off smoke alarms. Kicking bins. Now I look back and wonder what I was thinking. I used to shoplift for thrills—I even stole a car once and went joyriding. I was out of control.”

“And now you’re not. But that’s what I mean. You grew out of it, became an adult, and here I am, still doing stupid things. All the time. I run away and hide in hotels, refuse to answer my phone. Agree to projects that terrify me.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s fucked up. Don’t go hide in hotels. Costs a fortune for a start, but you could really end up in shitty situations, being you on your own. And we all get scared sometimes.”

“You get scared?” I couldn’t imagine that, somehow.

“I was terrified when Dad got me this job. And I fucked it up on the first day. Scraped a guest’s car, lost a bag. Got someone’s car keys stolen and then some mates turned up and…” He cringed.

“Oh.” Now I could kind of picture the scene.

“I like that we talk,” he said.

“I like that too.”

He reached out, stroked a finger down my cheek, then swiftly snatched Mr Snuggles from my grip.