Shuffle (Ruby Riot #2) (12 page)

The sounds of voices and cars around campus fade as my senses become lost in our moment. He kissed me in front of the group who I hear walk away, voices low. Maybe Nate’s right. Our opposite natures could work.

Nate murmurs something to himself I can’t make out, apart from the words ‘fucking idiot’. I tense. What does that mean?

Nate disentangles himself and takes both my hands in his. As he looks down at me, he wrinkles his nose. “Thanks for the kiss.”

“That’s okay; maybe we can do it again sometime.”

He pulls my hood back up and smooths the material. “I hope so, but I’m not holding my breath. I think you might change your mind.”

Confused by his shift away from what happened between us, I allow him to lead me away with his hand gripping mine.

Chapter Twenty-One

FLEUR

The Union is crammed, what a stupid idea to come down here on a Friday evening. If Nate wants to talk to me in public, he can’t find a much bigger audience than this. The heat stifles after the cool of autumn and I unbutton my jacket. I’m acutely aware of Nate’s hand tightly around mine and of the curious look between us from a girl nearby. Nate scouts around, his height giving him an advantage. He points.

“Over there. There’s a table. I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Orange juice, please. I need the Ladies. I’ll be back in a sec.”

He lifts my hand and kisses it. “I’ll be at the bar; if you’re not back in five minutes, I’ll come and find you.” Now we’re in the light, Nate’s concerned expression is apparent. I’d hoped for a smile or a connection like the one we just shared, but  something I can’t fathom is behind his expression. Does he regret this already?

The bathrooms are busy and I queue for a few minutes, wishing the cold weather didn’t have a major effect on my bladder. I catch sight of myself in the mirror, pink-cheeked and happy. If I close my eyes, I can feel Nate’s piercing on my lips still.

A couple of girls in front of me whisper and I can’t help but catch their conversation. They’re similar looking, long hair, low-rise jeans, and tops cut above their navels showing toned, tanned skin. They barely glance at me.

“So, last night. How was he?” asks the blonde girl.

“He’s exactly what you’d expect.”

“Good or bad?”

“Depends on how rough you like it.”

The girls both giggle and I squirm.

“He knows what he’s doing, that’s for sure. He...” The brown-haired girl glances at me. I don’t hear the next part because the girl whispers into her friend’s ear.

The second girl shrieks, “Nooo!” and they descend into giggles again. “Well, you’re back for more if he’s here tonight.”

“Of course! Who wouldn’t? If he wants to. He complemented me on my um... skills so I reckon I’m in with a chance.”

Ugh
.

The first girl laughs. “Sure. Nate Campbell doesn’t see the same girl twice.”

The ground lurches. Nate. Last night. The girls continue their conversation, but I don’t want to hear anymore. Ten minutes ago, the bastard looked me in the eyes and told me I was special. That he’d sworn off other girls. Nate Campbell, the man known for screwing everything in a skirt, who claimed he doesn’t want to fuck me.

The day after doing exactly that with the girl in front of me.

Why? What the hell is his motive? I can guess. I’m one big, uptight challenge.

I spend the next few minutes fighting heart-pounding fury. I fell for his smooth, sweet behaviour, exactly like I did Shaun’s.

Bastard.

When I finish in the bathroom, I step back into the throng of people and work my way along the hallway, rehearsing my words.

Nate stands alone at the doorway to the lounge bar, resting against the wall, arms crossed. One of the girls from the bathrooms is talking to him, but he’s not paying attention. As I march over his eyes widen and he shifts his gaze to one side, away from my face.

Yeah, well good luck in avoiding this, dickhead. “Nate.”

He mutters ‘fuck’ under his breath then looks up warily. “I can’t talk to you.”

“Well, I have plenty to say to you!”

He holds his hands up. “Seriously, um... Fleur. I can’t talk to you. Not now.”

“Busy are we?” I snap and incline my head to the girls.

“Yes. No. Shit. Please. I’ll call you later.”

“I wouldn’t answer, you bastard!”

The girls pull amused faces at each other and step to one side. Nate attempts to follow and I grab his jacket sleeve.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” I snarl.

He doesn’t reply, continuing to look around the hallway. I push him in the chest. “Don’t you dare ignore me!”

“Jesus,” he mutters. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Who?”

“Nothing. Listen. Please. I’ll talk to you later.”

Pulling myself full height, I fix him with an icy glare. “Don’t bother. All that bullshit about not touching other girls and then kissing me and –”

“What the fuck?” he interrupts. “I thought you didn’t like me? What’s he doing kissing you?”

I blink at his slip into third person, and a sense of relief comes over Nate’s face as he spots somebody behind.

“Thank fuck for that. Will! Get your arse over here!”

Will stands several feet away, jostled by passers-by, spilling the beer and orange juice he’s holding. Shock smacks his face and he clearly mouths “fuck” before approaching.

“Oh, man. You’re a fucking idiot,” says Nate.

“What have you said?” asks Will, also refusing to look at me.

“Exactly what you told me to. Nothing. But I think your time’s up.”

Will? How? I stare at him, at the drinks he’s holding and the t-shirt he’s wearing. Beer. Orange juice. Ruby Riot. Then I look back at the other guy, whose identical jacket is open over a loose black shirt.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Ohmigod...” I manage to breathe out and point at the twin with the drinks. “Are you…? Have you…?”

He closes his eyes and the other twin looks at him fighting a despairing smile.

“Have you...? Are you...?” I blink. “Which one of you kissed me?”

“Will,” says the guy in the black shirt.

“He’s Nate,” I reply.

“No, I’m Nate. He’s in trouble.” Nate smirks then claps his brother on the back. “Later, man.”

The drinks spill at the action; Will sets them on a nearby table and rubs his damp hands on his t-shirt.

The anger from before pales in comparison to the red crossing my vision now. “How long?”

“How long what?” he says in a low voice.

“How long have you been pretending you’re Nate?”

“I can explain. That’s why I asked –”

“Oh my fucking god!” I shriek, and several bystanders tune into what’s happening.

“Fleur, I’m sorry. Listen.”

“I’m not doing this!” I throw my hands up in despair. “I’m not having you or him humiliate me in public for a third time!” I glance at the glasses. I’ve no idea what grips me but I pick up Will’s glass of beer and chuck the contents in his face. “Your turn to be laughed at!”

Shaking, I slam the glass back on the table and stride to the entrance, tears blurring my eyes. The building leads out to a paved area where groups congregate, meeting up before they go inside, and I push my way outside.

My head spins with realisation over the sick joke I’ve been pulled into. Part of me wants to sit on the low wall and break down in tears; but the stronger part pushes anger into my system, swarming wasp-like and ready to unleash on Nate if he follows me. Or Will. Or whoever the hell he is.

“Fleur.” He doesn’t shout my name, but approaches quietly from behind, catching up the way he tried the last time he pissed me off. Hands in jacket pockets and head dipped, the twin walks alongside me while I pretend he isn’t there. “Fleur.”

“Leave me alone.”

“I need to talk to you. Explain.”

Ignored.

“Please. I don’t want you to hate me.”

I stop and whoever he is almost bumps into me as I do. “Why would I hate you? You only humiliated me for a third time,” I spit the words, curling my mouth. “What did I ever do to you both to deserve this?”

We’ve reached the edge of the union square, heading into the dimmer part of campus, but I can make out the upset in his face. “I understand you’d be pissed off with me but –”

“Pissed off doesn’t even begin to cut it,” I say through clenched teeth. “Go away, Nate.”

“Will,” he says and squeezes his eyes closed. “Shit. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I cross my arms. “Which was the funniest part for you? Swapping from person to person to see if I’d notice? Challenging each other to see who could fuck the prissy Fleur Roberts first?”

Will recoils. “No! I was always me. I mean, I was always the same person. Nate was never involved. Apart from the one time in the Union. And backstage. Nate was the one who pissed you off that time by saying shit about wanting to fuck you.”

“And that makes things better, does it?” I snap. When Will attempts to take my hand, I snatch it away. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I should’ve told you before. I’ve tried to for weeks, but...” He drags a hand through his hair. “I’m a coward. And we were becoming close; I didn’t know what to do to stop myself ruining this.”

“Ruining it?” I lower my voice as a nearby group looks over. “Ruining what? The game?”

“No! Shit, Fleur. Let me explain.”

“Nothing you could say would make a difference.” I bury my shaking hands into my pockets. “I was bloody stupid to ever trust you.”

I storm away, and he wisely doesn’t follow. My stomach churns each time an image of the amused faces of the crowd in the Union crosses my mind. Will drew me into liking him – to the point of kissing him – and I’m left with a hole as more of my self-respect is torn away by yet another guy’s betrayal.

Why does every man I come across treat me like this? What’s wrong with me that I attract this kind of guy? Where’s the sticker on my head that says ‘naive and desperate for attention’. Am I? I’m not.

By the time I reach home and walk into the empty house, I give in to the hurt. My bedroom is my safe place, my solace against the world. This latest betrayal is too much. Of the three men recently in my life, I’d thought he was the most sincere.

I trusted him.

More than that, when Nate kissed me, I believed his words how, even though we’re different, parts of us underneath are the same. I thought he’d reached across and shown me I was special, but I was one big fucking joke to Nate.

Nate?

Will.

Chapter Twenty-Two

FLEUR

Nobody knows about Will and me. About how I kissed the rock star who’d wormed his way into my life with his gentleness and humour.

The bastard who lied.

I want to confide in Anne what happened with Will; but when the incident misses public scrutiny, and nobody who was around mentions what’s happened, there’s no need. This sickens me further, as if the twins play this game regularly so nobody cares. Fortunately, the band disappears off campus as the album launches and I don’t have a daily, stomach-lurching reminder of my stupidity. With no twins in seminars and lecture theatres, this helps ease the pain and embarrassment.

The last two academic years have been straightforward. Predictable. Study hard, good grades, and plan the future. A couple of romantic entanglements, but like most things in my life, I was holding out for best, not second best. This year, less than two months into term, I’ve dated – and been screwed around by – three guys. I’ve almost failed papers. My head and heart are a mess thanks to a guy who would never have been on my radar.

Time to pull back.

Anne soon learns not to mention Nate’s name around me.

Head down and sworn off men for the foreseeable future, I concentrate on what should be taking my energy: achieving the best grades.

Chapter Twenty-Three

WILL

Two days after Fleur discovers the truth, Ruby Riot’s debut album, Magnetic, launches with the amount of hype and excitement we hoped for and life shifts gear. A couple of London magazine interviews, a spot playing on The Monday Show, and plans to head to Europe next month are scheduled for the band. No more studying for a few weeks. I question the point in returning to study at all, if we’re back on this path, but I’m still determined to do both. We don’t have a tour booked until next summer anyway.

I’m stressed about the shit that happened with Fleur. The band is where my focus needs shifting, but I can’t pull the Fleur situation under control in my mind. At first, I think the issue is guilt, which isn’t a usual emotion. I’ve lost count of the number of girls I screwed earlier this year, but since I started lusting after Fleur, nobody. No, this guilt is the replay in my mind of the hurt and tears on the face of the girl who meant more to me than she realises. More than
I
realised, until now.

That kiss. I fought against myself but self-control isn’t my thing either. Kissing Fleur before I told her who I really was has inflamed the situation. I gave fuel to Fleur’s accusation I’ve played a game with her. No way. When we kissed and the hidden need passed between us, something else did too. I walked away on a dizzy high, aching for Fleur to look at me in the same way again – as if I mattered and she wanted me. I held onto Fleur’s hand, and held onto the delusion that when I told Fleur the truth she’d forgive me. I counted on Fleur sharing the longing that swept us close, how the kiss united us, and that this connection would be enough for her to give me a chance.

Sure. Fuckwit.

I left the confession too late. If we’d arrived before Nate, or chosen to go somewhere different to the Union, the shitstorm would never have happened. If Fleur was as high on our kiss as I was, she might’ve somehow found a way to forgive me. My planned explanation may’ve been enough.

Not now.

But I’m not giving up on her. Not yet.

The band meet at Jem and Ruby’s place for a band meeting before we head out onto the press junket. Their house lies in the Hampshire countryside, behind security gates. The converted farmhouse is a far cry from the London house Jem lived in when we first met him, but so is his life.

On the drive over Jax is quiet, while me and Nate chat excitedly about the next few weeks. We're launching our new single on The Monday Show, BBC prime time. If that's not making it big, I don't know what is. Then we have a couple of gigs local to London, before a break and more promo in Europe. Discussions over heading to the States too are ongoing. This is undecided due to Ruby's baby situation, and a bone of contention to Jax. Jax's taciturn attitude reflects this; fuck knows what mood he’ll be in if Ruby says no again today. At least the occasion switches me off the shit happening with Fleur.

Jem answers the door. Most people look like crap if they’re a new parent, but he’s a model of health compared to how he looked when we first met him. His long, brown curls hang loose across his shoulders and he’s barefoot. Jem nods in greeting and steps back; we follow into the slate floored house.

Ruby appears, dressed in a black shift dress with legs bare, scarlet hair piled onto her head. As usual, her face is hidden behind dark eye make up and bright red lipstick.

“Hey, guys,” she says with a smile.

“Missed ya, Ruby Tuesday!” I enthuse and hug her. She ducks from under my arms and crosses hers. The personal space issues haven't changed since she became a mother, then.

Jax hangs back in the doorway, avoiding Ruby's eyes. We head into a bright room, furnished with yellow sofas and a low coffee table. In one corner, there's a baby seat and folded clothes, and I stare. I've seen Ruby with the baby before but still can't fit the two together in my head.

“I thought we were rehearsing?” Jax asks Jem.

I push a plastic baby toy out of the way and flop onto the sofa next to Nate.

The tension between Jem and Jax never fades completely, and takes time to ebb whenever we meet up after time apart. “We are,” replies Jem. “I want to run through plans for the tour promo, then I can get back to publicity and make sure everything is booked and ready.”

“We've been discussing this for weeks. It's rehearsals we need to get on with ready for The Monday Show next week,” retorts Jax.

“He probably wants to make a better impression on this TV appearance than he did in his debut in Amsterdam,” replies Ruby.

Jax scowls. “Ha-fucking-ha.”

I bite back a smile. Jax, Nate and me were in the shit after the drunken spectacle on Dutch TV, but I still think it was bloody hilarious. Awesome night.

“Good point,” replies Jem.

Ruby Riot wouldn't be where it is today if it wasn't for Jem Jones, Blue Phoenix guitarist and our manager. He saw the talent and took us on as his project, and pushed us on everybody until people sat up and noticed the band. Before Jem, Jax organised the band while Nate and me would turn up and play. It was Jax recruited Ruby and she added the dimension the band needed. Now Jem’s in charge. Jax has never fallen out with Jem artistically, if anything he's inspired by him, but Ruby is an issue.

Ruby and Jax were close before Jem. Not lovers close, though I think Jax harboured those thoughts last year. Problem solved when Jax met Tegan and fell in lust. Or love, or whatever. No, Jax's issue is Jem stole Ruby in more ways than one; as far as Jax is concerned Jem got our lead singer pregnant, and Ruby Riot had to hit the brakes. On the Blue Phoenix tour, Jax totally lost his shit about the situation when he found out, but that's Jax. If he doesn't get his own way he acts out like a bloody princess.

“We need to decide about the States,” says Ruby, looking at Jem. “I know Jem's thoughts but I think this should be a band decision.”

Jax sits down and rakes a hand through his messy blond hair. “What's the problem? I don't understand why we're not just going.”

“We can go for a week instead of the two we planned?” I suggest.

“The baby. Three months is young to travel,” says Ruby. “I mean, she could be okay but we're cautious.”

“Album release means we need maximum marketing,” snaps back Jax. “Here and overseas. We need to go to the States. End of.”

“Yeah, I get that. Maybe schedule in the New Year?” says Jem.

“New Year? What the hell? No, we need to go December at the latest.”

Jax and Jem glower at each other and as if to emphasise the point, a baby's cry comes from the adjoining room.

Jem looks to Ruby. “Let me talk to the guys, you see to Quinn,” she says, and Jem wanders towards the baby’s shrill cries.

“We agreed,” snaps Jax. “You agreed. Promo tour Europe and the States.”

“And I intend to!” retorts Ruby.

Some days, me and Nate slice through band tension like this with a quip to diffuse issues, but this situation has brewed for a while. There's no point reasoning with Princess Jax when he’s in this mood, he won't listen. This time, I half-agree. I don't want the album to bomb and have to pin my life back on slogging around pubs and clubs again.

“Do you have room for us anymore?” says Jax in a low voice. “Because seems like the band dropped to the bottom of your priority list.”

Ruby steps towards him; they stand face to thunderous face.

I glance at Nate and he rolls his eyes.
Here we go...
“No. We will go to the States. We'll do everything we’re advised,” says Ruby. “Jem will be with us, he'll have to suck it up and either get a nanny or look after Quinn himself when I'm busy.”

Jax blinks at her. “But you said –”

“Jem's overprotective, that's all. He'll loosen up,” she says.

“He won't stop you?”

Ruby laughs. “Jax, since when does anybody stop me doing anything that slows down Ruby Riot?”

“Umm. Your daughter?” replies Jax.

Ruby’s eyes narrow at his snark. “You guys went back to uni, I'm not the only one with lifestyle distractions.”

“She's right,” I interrupt. “You know me and Nate were supposed to finish our degrees. Jem has a US tour booked for the summer too, we can go then and -”

“What's the point in touring if our album’s a fucking failure? Shit!” Jax tucks his hands beneath his arms.

“Are you not getting any, mate?” asks Nate. “Tegan holding out on you?”

“What the fuck?” he snarls.

“This.” Nate waves his hand. “Don't push all your frustrations on us!”

I bite my lip and look away. Nate's trying to be funny, but this time he's overstepped the mark.

“This has nothing to do with anything but the band!” Jax snaps.

“We're not going to disappear from the world,” I say. “We just toured with Blue Phoenix, the obsession with you by the chicks isn't waning. Bloody hell, the lovefest for Jax Lewis is being carefully cultivated by the PR people. Nobody’s gonna forget us in a hurry.”

“Too bloody well,” he mutters. “I need to shift the focus back onto the band and the music. I'm sick of being the poster boy.”

I hit on the crux of the issue. “I thought you liked being a rock god,” I say with a laugh.

“
Rock gods
shouldn't have girlfriends, apparently,” Jax replies.

“What's happening?” I ask

“Forget it.”

“What's wrong, Jax?” asks Ruby.

“I'm not going to discuss my personal life with you guys. But when the record company's marketing people are trying to hook me into publicity stunts, because we're not doing enough ourselves, then I get antsy.”

When Jax stomps out of the room, the rest of us eye each other warily.

“Jesus, he gets worse,” says Nate. “Such a bloody drama queen!”

Ruby wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, but you know the shit him and Tegan face from the media so I understand what Jax is saying if he's being pressured by marketing..”

“You talk to him,” I say. “He listens to you.” Ruby raises an eyebrow. “Mostly.”

“He's right though, we need to rehearse. We need to sound good when we go on The Monday Show next week.”

Jem appears with his daughter. At least she’s not bloody crying now, no way do I want to listen to that all day. The little girl is swathed in a yellow blanket and wrapped in Jem’s tattooed arms. Jesus, that looks weird. “Rehearse here.”

“I don't want to bloody rehearse here,” calls Jax from the next room. “My gear is back home.”

“Come back tomorrow,” Ruby replies.

Jax reappears and looks to me and Nate for support. “Will?”

“What?”

“Your vote,” says Jax. “Do we come back here and rehearse?”

“How long for?”

“Couple of days, then we'll head to London for the TV spot and decide from there,” replies Ruby. “It will be easier for me.”

I look to my brother. “Nate?”

“Don't give a shit either way.”

“Tegan can come and stay too,” offers Ruby.

Jax's dark look grows. “She's too busy. Works in the city remember?”

“Aw, he doesn't want to be away from his beloved,” says Nate and strokes his hair. “You guys...So cute…” Jax ducks away from him.

“I see Ruby's point,” I say. “We’re here now.”

“What about your girlfriend? You okay to leave her?” asks Nate. “Did she forgive you yet?”

“Will has a girl?” asks Jax. “You kept that quiet.”

“I don't!”

“Tell him the story, little bro.”

“Fuck you,” I mutter.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not another one!” complains Jem. “Jax. Give your mate some relationship advice.”

At his comment Nate barks out a laugh. “Man, that's funny. How many days has it been since you argued with Tegan?”

“At least a week!” retorts Jax.

I switch off, let them finish their arguing and make a decision. I’m not in the bloody mood and did not want a reminder of Fleur when I’ve spent all day trying not to think about her. I attempted to call her yesterday and don’t blame Fleur for freezing me out.

Nate doesn’t understand, it’s one big fucking joke to him. I stepped back into nights out with him, but the hollow feeling inside grows and I can’t fill the gaps with other girls. No way. Since Fleur discovered my lies, I’ve spent more time than usual with a beer in my hand. Nate gradually backs off mentioning the situation and, after one too many ‘I told you so,’ I warned him to shut the hell up or I’d smack him. I meant it.

Numbing the situation doesn’t help. I fell for Fleur harder and faster than I imagined I could, and I scour my thoughts for a reason why this happened. Did I know the first time I saw her that something connected us besides my overwhelming desire to wind my fingers into Fleur’s long, blonde hair and get her naked? How else could I spend two years craving her attention when I saw her, even with everything else happening in my life?

Sure, when I was away from uni and indulging in my famous lifestyle I forgot Fleur, because I wasn’t around her. By the end of last year, I decided the reality of ‘an us’ was out of my grasp and threw myself into hedonism.