Trust (London Love #5)

Served me right, I guess, but I wasn’t impressed.

At least I’d managed to park the car under a streetlight and remembered to lock it, not that that was any deterrent to the kids around here, but my car wasn’t really that attractive. I left nothing in it, and the back offside wheel needed a new tyre.

I should get that sorted.

It was cold, despite being springtime. The news page on my phone screamed colourfully about bargain holidays for the summer. I didn’t need a bargain holiday. Dad and I would probably go to the coast for a few days, stay in some damp-ridden caravan as always, do the same things we did at home. Get takeaways. Play cards. Watch TV. Sleep.

I liked it. I liked the routine and predictability of my life. I didn’t like when things changed. I never had.

Which again brought me back to wondering again if I should get my own place, discover if I was really cut out for adulthood, maybe go back to school and take some night classes. The thought of doing any of that filled me with dread, but I knew that was the expectation. It was just…I liked my life as it was. I paid my way, and Dad and I shared the bills and…

I’m not ready! I wanted to scream out into the quiet nighttime air. I didn’t, though. I was a grown-up. Calm the fuck down, Reuben.

I stuck my key in the door and tiptoed in so I wouldn’t disturb my dad, who’d already be tucked up in bed. The lights were all off, and the darkness was a welcome relief. I toed off my shoes, padded down the hallway to the bathroom, got in the shower and washed the grime off my skin. Wrapping a towel around my shoulders to catch the drips from my hair, I stayed in darkness as I stepped into my room, gently closed the door behind me and flicked on the light, hoping my dad had slept through my antics, and turned around…and then I definitely woke my dad up. Because I bloody screamed.

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

“Shhhh,” he said, holding his hands up to protect himself. I had my hands up too, waving my fists around like I was going to fight him. We’d had break-ins before. I wasn’t some helpless damsel in distress, and I would beat the shit out of anyone—

“Reubs, calm down.”

Here he was. The Dieter. Well, Graham. Gray. The kid with the messy long hair and bright eyes, and he was wearing my T-shirt. While I was stark naked, having shrugged off my towel, which hadn’t covered anything anyway, in shock.

“Grab some gear, man. I didn’t come here to see your junk.”

“It’s very nice junk, thank you very much.”

I was…well. I didn’t care. Not really. Still, I grabbed a pair of shorts from the floor, struggled into them and rescued the towel for my top half.

“Look,” I said. “I read up about your stalker online. That guy who was caught sleeping in your bed. Licking your plates in your kitchen. Fucked up, I agree. There was a trial. It’s like a criminal offence.”

“Thanks for opening up that can of worms,” he grunted, but he was smiling like he was enjoying this. I was not enjoying this. I was rattled to the bone and my heart was beating too fast.

He must’ve realised, as his smile faded and he said, “Sorry. I know it’s a criminal offence, but I’m… I know what this looks like. I actually turned up here at dinner time, and I paid for your dad’s fish supper and he said I could stay. I’m not stalking you or shit. My phone got stolen. That was in the news too, some guy on a bike outside the studio. There was nothing on it. I’m mostly gutted about my Candy Crush score being wiped, but I hadn’t properly saved your number. You know. Lazy. I just replied to…you know.”

There it was. The small innocent bastard, hiding behind Mr Snuggles like the idiot he was.

“Your favourite question is up next,” I said, trying to sound serious, but I couldn’t help smiling. He did that to me.

“Oh, I know this one.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

“Gray, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Well, Reuben. I have a very well-thought-out answer for that.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you right back.”

We were laughing, and to be honest, I had no idea what was going on here.

“It’s been three weeks, Gray. Give or take.”

“And it’s been the most messed-up weeks of my life. Of this band’s life.”

“Well, that’s not good enough for me. You don’t get to piss me off like this.”

“You’re pissed off?” He looked proud, like that was some major achievement. “Look, Reubs, you have my number. You could have rung me.”