Trust (London Love #5)

“Also, I got an offer for my house. My stuff is going into storage next week, and then I can finally start looking for somewhere to live. Somewhere reasonable.”

“Reasonable?”

I had no idea where all these one-word responses were coming from, but he seemed to get me. Understand the weird one-sided convo we were having. He shuffled down and tucked the duvet under his chin. Smiled at me.

“I want somewhere small. An apartment with, like, a concierge downstairs. A gym in-house. And a pool. Then it’s easy to control who comes in and out. No stupid stalkers. Well, unless the neighbours are all nutcases, but yeah. Two bedrooms. A balcony. Big double bed.”

“Are you mocking my single bed? I tell you, this is a very comfortable bed. IKEA’s best. And it’s actually an extra-wide single, so fuck off with your mockery.”

“I’m not mocking your single bed,” he said and then fell silent, though he was still looking at me. He reached out, stroked his finger down my cheek as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “If it’s any help…in my defence? I missed you. But I was trying to broker some kind of peace with some other guys who are as pissed off as me and a bunch of management who can see their money flying out the window, and we’re all trying to rescue something that is already gone. I mean, look at me. Nobody will ever believe I’m twenty-two anymore, however much they cake me in make-up. I think it’s time for me to act my age. And, like…be a normal person.”

“You’ve got too much money to ever be a normal person.”

“I’m actually not that loaded. Most of my money is locked up and invested, and I haven’t got millions in the bank if that’s what you think. Selling the house is a big deal for me. A tidy profit. Enough to stick some in the bank and buy something smaller. Like I said, start to live. Like a normal person.”

“Lee?” I questioned. “I couldn’t think of his name before. Lee. That’s the last one, isn’t it? Little blonde guy? Does those high-pitched noises?”

“Lee.” He rubbed his nose against my shoulder. Snaked his arm around my stomach. I didn’t mind. I welcomed it. Needed it. Wanted to soak up as much of this as I could. Because he’d be gone again in the morning, and I’d be back to having that ball of anxiety in my stomach and being all messed up over someone I barely knew.

“Lee is just the guy who sits in the corner. Strong dancer but has no opinion on anything. Does what he’s told. He’s barely opened his mouth in the last weeks, just turns up and sits there on his phone. He had some lyrics ready, which were dark as hell. I kind of liked them. We’ll never be allowed to use them, though.”

“Shame.” I had no idea what I was saying. His arm was comfortingly heavy, his breath painting my skin with warmth, and when he looked at me, I could barely breathe.

And that? That was a proper fucking crying shame.

Future song lyrics

GRAHAM

“Tell me about your mum,” I whispered. Even though I was falling asleep, and the light through the curtains was more than enough evidence of the early hours of the morning, I didn’t want this to end. This comforting bubble we’d found ourselves in where I was tucked up against his chest.

I hadn’t meant to become so…snug. But he’d let me and who was I to turn down a cuddle? I needed it after the enormous amount of drama of the past few days, each one more unbearable than the last. What I hadn’t told Reuben was that I’d woken up one morning on my kitchen floor with the night guard staring at me with his phone in his hand. The next night, I’d woken up standing on the stairs. I’d been too terrified to even breathe. I was back on the sleeping tablets, which were obviously not working, and all I’d been able to think about… Well. I’d finally caved in and come back here, to where I felt safe and knew I would sleep.

Where someone I’d started to trust could keep an eye on me.

I hadn’t slept properly for weeks, and I was constantly tired and out of it. Josh had laughed at me almost falling off the studio chair, and he might well laugh. He was the only sane one out of us all. Well, maybe Lee was too, seeing as he managed to block out reality in a way I’d never mastered.

I envied Musa with his absolute love for his family and stern conviction that a little bit of belly fat would not turn our fans into rabid monsters. They’d still love him. Because he was The Musa. And, he said, at least he wasn’t pumping his veins full of junk. That was a massive side-eye towards the man who was not there.

God only knew what they’d done with Bash. Nobody would tell us anything, and while I’d sat there fretting, Josh had just smiled, reading through my lyrics, and given me that look he did so well.

“What’s his name?” he’d asked.

I’d not said a word. I usually had no problem boasting about my conquests, laughing as some poor bastard off Hinge was held down and forced to sign multiple NDAs after a night of mindless fun in my bed.

It had never been like this. Not like what I had here. And Josh had been absolutely right. I’d written about a boy who didn’t care who I was as long as I came back to him.

That part hadn’t even been true, and yet…

Here I was, with his fingers combing through my hair, mine tapping gently at his naked chest where his top had ridden up to almost under his chin.

I loved his chest. Hairless and smooth with that plumpness to his nipples that had me swallowing down the saliva pooling in my mouth.

Which was why I’d asked about his mum. Anything to make me NOT think about his skin, the plumpness of his lips, that mass of hair that looked like a wire brush but was actually super soft. The dampness still lingered from his shower, making each strand curl into a perfect little spiral.

Reuben.

Stupid name. Stupid crush.