Lindsey Kelk 5-Book 'I Heart...' Collection (84 page)

‘Not at all Mademoiselle.’

‘Ahh, thanks.’ He’d called me Mademoiselle. About bloody time.

‘Hey, Alex? I’m back, I’m so sorry I took so long,’ I shouted through the door, fiddling with the lock. ‘I swear I’m not leaving this room again unless I’m with someone who knows exactly where they’re going or I’m getting in a cab.’

But the room was empty. Alex wasn’t there.

‘Alex?’ I called out, flicking on all the lights. ‘Are you in the bathroom?’

He was not in the bathroom. I pulled the shower curtain aside, as though he might be hiding. Why did people always do that? I flopped down on to the bed, half relieved to be off my feet and half freaking out about Alex’s mysterious absence. It was almost ten, I should have been home at least an hour ago and there was nothing, no note, no phone message, nothing. I plugged in my borrowed BlackBerry charger and waited for the battery icon to flicker on to the screen.

‘Come on,’ I said quietly, staring at the screen. Nothing. ‘Bugger.’

I pressed the speed dial button to try to call him, but it just wouldn’t connect. Probably not enough charge in it, I told myself, setting the phone down on the bedside table. I wriggled out of my dress and lay back on the bed. He’d be back soon enough, Graham and Craig were at Solène’s and besides, Graham would have called me and left a message if Alex was with them. There was nowhere else for him to be. I closed my eyes for just a moment, willing my feet to stop throbbing, my stomach to stop rumbling, my head to stop aching. The sheets were so cool and the bed was oh so soft, I couldn’t help but let my eyelids flicker once more. Reaching out to the bedside table, I turned on the TV, settling on a noisy translation of Grey’s Anatomy. It didn’t seem to matter what language certain shows were in, it was hardly difficult to follow.

‘Oh, McDreamy,’ I mumbled quietly at the screen. ‘Make up your bloody mind.’

I reached over to grab my BlackBerry, only managing to knock it on to the floor. The homepage was back up, but there was no signal at all. I waved it around with one feeble, half-raised arm, but nothing was happening.

‘Crappity crap.’ I dropped it back on the bedside table with a clatter and rolled over on to my back. Alex would be back soon, hopefully with the number of a takeaway, there was no way I could manage to be vertical again today. In fact, he’d be lucky if I was even awake when he got—

I had no idea how much time had passed when my eyes snapped open, fresh from a dream about desperately needing the toilet, but finding them all occupied by Solène lookalikes, but I found myself both desperately needing the toilet and asleep under the sheets in my underwear. The TV was off, the lights were out, but Alex wasn’t in bed beside me. I sat up, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, and the globs of mascara that were gluing them shut. Worried that I might actually wet myself, I hopped off the bed and into the bathroom, pushing the door shut and peeing in the dark. I washed my hands and blinked back into the bedroom, not quite managing three steps before I tripped over something in the middle of the floor and went flying across the bed.

‘Fuck!’ I squeaked, planting my face on the corner of the bedspread. Heat started to spread through my left cheekbone and I pressed my hand on to my face until the sharp pain dulled to a slow throb.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ I said through gritted teeth, kicking whatever it was I’d tripped over. As my only open eye adjusted to the half-light, I realized that it was a pair of Converse. Alex’s Converse.

‘Angela?’ Alex’s voice asked from a dark corner of the room.

‘Alex?’ I mumbled from the floor.

A lamp clicked on showing the whole sorry scene. Alex was all curled up in an armchair in the far corner of the bedroom, still wearing his jeans and T-shirt, while I was stretched out on the carpet in my bra and knickers, a pair of trainers wrapped around my ankle and a small pool of blood collecting next to my hand. Fortunately it wasn’t on the carpet. Unfortunately, it was on my brand new, über expensive, grey silk dress.

‘What are you doing over there?’ My voice sounded weird and nasal and nothing was really making sense. Why was Alex in the chair? And why was I on the floor again? ‘What happened?’

‘Can we start by cleaning up your bloody nose?’ He unfolded his legs and scrambled out of the chair, at my side before I could unravel his shoes from around my ankles. ‘Jesus, Angela, I’m gonna have to put a bell on you. What are you doing?’

‘Peeing?’ I winced as he lifted my chin and took my hand away from my cheek. ‘Why were you in the chair? Where were you?’

‘Let’s get you fixed up first.’ He pulled me up to my feet, one arm wrapped around me, the other sweeping my hair out of my face.

I perched on the edge of the bath, staring at my bloody hands while Alex ran the cold water and gently dabbed at my face with a damp flannel. ‘You are definitely going to have a black eye tomorrow,’ he said, squatting in front of me. ‘I don’t think your nose is broken though.’

‘Are you sure?’ I asked, trying not to pull away. ‘It feels broken.’

‘You ever break it before?’

‘No.’

‘Then how would you know? It’s hurt, it’s not broken.’

‘Feels broken,’ I muttered, trying not to think about any incidents in the past where I may or may not have broken someone’s hand.

‘When you’ve toured with Craig for six months straight, you’ll know when a nose is broken.’ Alex swapped the bloody flannel for some clean tissue. ‘I fixed that boy up more times than I want to remember. Come on, let’s get you in bed.’

I stood up on wobbly legs and let Alex lead me back to the bed. He took out a button-up shirt and slipped it on me, fastening the front few buttons and then popping out two Advil and placing them in my palm. ‘Let me get you some water,’ he pushed me carefully on to the bed and disappeared back into the bathroom.

Through my not-quite-with-it haze, I spotted the glowing clock on the bedside table. It was just after two a.m.

‘Alex?’ I called as loudly as I could with the shooting pain that ran all the way across my cheekbone and up into my forehead. Ouch.

‘Yeah?’ he replied, back at my bedside, glass of water in hand.

I swallowed the Advil with a swig from the glass that Alex held out. Clearly he didn’t trust me to hold it. Which was, I supposed, perfectly understandable.

‘It’s after midnight. Happy birthday.’

‘Thanks,’ he said quietly. ‘Try and get to sleep.’

‘OK,’ I whispered back, feeling a bit weird. And not entirely because of the bed frame to the face incident. Alex turned off the light and I heard him unfasten his jeans.

‘You’re coming to bed?’ I asked, blind as a bat.

‘Yeah,’ he said as his weight hit the other side of the bed.

Relieved, I tried to roll over, but the pain on the right side of my face wouldn’t let me. I waited a second for Alex to cuddle up, but he didn’t. Reaching out, I traced down his forearm until I found his hand, curled my fingers around his and squeezed. He wrapped my hand up in his, but didn’t squeeze back. instead, I heard a quiet sigh and felt his body pull away slightly, rolling towards the window. I stared up at the dark ceiling with my good eye and tried to breathe evenly. What a great start to his birthday.

‘Oh my God, what happened to my face?’ I moaned as sunlight poured into the room. I prised open my right eye, unable to open the left. Alex stood by the window in his boxers and a T-shirt with his back to me. ‘Did I try and take a drink off Lindsay Lohan or something?’

‘You don’t remember?’ he said, turning to face me with something like a smile. I noticed there was a big rusty streak of blood down the front of his shirt. ‘Jesus Christ, I leave you on your own, you get in trouble. I bring you with me, you get in trouble. You tripped in the middle of the night.’

My brain still hadn’t quite processed everything that had happened in the previous twenty-four hours, but I knew I was relieved to see that smile.

‘I did?’ I shuffled upwards into a sitting position. Alex came over and sat on the edge of the bed with a glass of water.

‘You did,’ he confirmed, taking a bottle of Advil from the bedside table and shaking a couple of tablets out into his palm. ‘You really don’t remember?’

Looking around the room, the memory flooded back. I took the tablets, swallowed and nodded. ‘I’m such a clumsy cow.’

‘It was my fault, I shouldn’t have left my shoes in the middle of the room, I’m sorry.’ He took my hand in his, turning it over and running his forefinger over the bloody trail that marked the back. ‘Does it still hurt?’

‘My hand?’ I was confused. Not for the first time.

‘Your cheek,’ he said, lifting his hand to trace tenderly along my cheekbone. I pulled back slightly, it was so sore. ‘Aw, man, you’re not going to like it.’

‘It looks bad?’

‘Looks painful,’ he offered diplomatically. ‘Maybe you should just stay in bed. I’ll get some ice or something.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ I said, trying to convince myself more than anything. I’d never actually had a black eye before. I couldn’t believe how much this hurt. ‘It’s your birthday, we’re going to go out and do Paris.’

‘Yeah, uh, about that,’ Alex pulled a face and ruffled the back of his hair so that it stood up in soft, spiky peaks, ‘I kinda have to go and do some band stuff today.’

‘But I thought we were going to spend the day together?’ I was confused again. Wasn’t spending his birthday together the whole point of my coming out to Paris? ‘It’s your birthday, Alex.’

‘I know,’ he stood up and picked his jeans up off the floor. ‘I wish I could get out of it, but the record company said we’d do some more interviews, meet with some of the European execs. It sucks, I know. I would have told you last night, but—’

‘But?’

‘You weren’t here.’

Ouch. I wasn’t sure what hurt the most, my face or Alex’s low blow. I bit my lip and chose to ignore it. An early birthday present. To go with my moving in announcement and the lovely vintage watch that had been blown up. It had been lovely.

‘I suppose if you don’t have any choice,’ I said. I really wanted to pull a face, but my aching left cheek wouldn’t let me. ‘Can we still have dinner together?’

‘Absolutely.’ Alex folded up the jeans and placed them on the foot of the bed. ‘Look, why don’t you go back to sleep, I don’t know, maybe do some shopping or something this afternoon, and then we’ll do dinner tonight. It’s totally my fault that I ruined our day so, take my credit card, go crazy.’

If I hadn’t been suspicious before, I was now. ‘You want me to go shopping with your credit card?’

‘Yeah.’ Alex shrugged. ‘It’s my fault you’re on your own with nothing to do, it’s my fault you have a smashed-up face, and I want to make it up to you.’

‘You can’t do that with a credit card,’ I said, narrowing my eyes. This wasn’t Alex talking and I was over playing dumb. ‘What’s going on, Alex? Where were you last night?’

‘I was here,’ he said, his head inside the wardrobe, ‘waiting for you.’

‘You weren’t here when I got in.’ I kicked off the covers, hot and bothered all of a sudden. ‘And you weren’t answering your phone.’

‘Uh, no? You were the one not answering your phone,’ Alex said, closing the door and turning to stare me down. ‘And you were the one who went to a party at my ex-girlfriend’s place instead of coming out to dinner with me. Sure, I took a walk after I’d been sitting here waiting for you for two hours, and then I get back and you’re passed out on the bed. I don’t think you’re in a position to be pissy with me right now, Angela.’

‘I’m not being pissy,’ I protested, pissily. ‘I told you I was going to stop in for two minutes and then I was coming back. And I left you a voicemail to say I was on my way back at like, eight-fifteen or something.’

‘Well, I didn’t get it.’ He pulled a faded black T-shirt roughly from its hanger and threw it at the bed. ‘Can we please not argue today?’

‘I’m not arguing,’ I said, throwing myself back down on the bed. And immediately regretting it when a sharp shooting pain coursed all the way down my cheekbone and into my eye socket. Ow ow ow ow ow.

‘Good.’ He threw a pair of socks and clean boxers on top of the T-shirt and then vanished into the bathroom, slamming the door.

I folded my arms and pouted. Maybe I wanted to argue. Maybe I wanted to know why he thought it was perfectly acceptable to give me the silent treatment and not be where he said he would be, and then wake up the next morning and pretend that everything was rosy. And maybe I wanted to know why he thought he could buy me off with his credit card. That was so weird. I lay on the bed, listening to the shower running and tried not to think about Alex being all soapy and naked. It was difficult to be mad at a naked soapy man you were in love with. Especially on his birthday. Well, any time really.

He emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, wet, black hair dripping down his face. I folded my arms and stared. It wasn’t any easier, naked man in a towel was equally as difficult to be mad at. He stopped in the middle of the room and held out his arms.

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ I replied, turning over and flicking on the TV.

‘Good.’

I burrowed back under the covers. It didn’t matter whether or not I was far too hot, it was the principle. And the principle was that I was being stroppy.

Alex dressed in silence while I sulked in bed. I tried to think of something to say that would be funny, alluring and yet show that I was mature enough to put this squabble to one side in honour of his birthday.

‘So, do you feel old?’

Alex stopped dead, one leg in his jeans. ‘I feel great, thanks for asking.’

Probably not quite the reaction I’d been hoping for. Or the question I should have asked.

‘What time do you want to meet for dinner?’ I asked, flicking my toes out from under the sheets. It really was warm in there. ‘Are you coming back here?’

‘Sure,’ he said, rubbing at his hair with a towel. How come he could treat his hair so incredibly badly and still have it be so very soft and shiny, while I could condition myself stupid and treat my hair as delicately as a newborn kitten and it still looked like crap?