Trust Me (Beggar's Choice #2) (23 page)

“Morning,” I say almost
questioningly. “Sorry I
overslept.”                                   

“Oh no problem. Take all the time
you want.”

All the time I want?
I
feel blindsided now with no idea what’s going on. However, looking at his
nervous gestures and seeing how he won’t look me in the eyes, it’s becoming
glaringly apparent that this could be a kiss off. It’s never really happened to
me but friends have told me about it. They didn’t mention how much it fucking
hurts.

“Yes, I’ve got to go out but you
can stay in bed if you like.” He’s moving towards the wardrobe and removing
some clothes from hangers, and I relax for a second thinking that he must be
coming straight back if he wants me to stay in bed so surely everything’s okay.
Unfortunately he carries on talking. “Yeah I’ve got to meet the boys. We’ll be
gone for a while so when you’re finished just let yourself out. The door will
lock automatically.” He’s pulling on his jeans with his back to me so
fortunately he misses the wince of pain that meets that remark. What I really
want to do at this moment is roll into myself like a ball to contain the pain
inside me. This is typical - I realise that I’m in love with him and he
remembers how to be a complete wanker!

Gathering the sheet round me I
ease off the bed moving stiffly and feeling sick. This is horrendous and I just
need to get through this. Edging around him I avert my face from him feeling
his gaze burning on the side of my face. “No problem.” I’m trying to sound
cheery but unfortunately I know that I’m failing, so I clear my throat and try
again. “No problem. I’ll go now. I can shower in my own room. I’ll see you
later, yes?” Gathering my clothes from where they’re lying on the floor I
scuttle into the bathroom, ignoring his sudden urgent whisper of ‘Nell’.

I shut the door, turning the lock
and lean against it, horrified to feel tears prickling in my eyes.
Don’t cry
now, don’t you fucking cry now
I tell myself harshly. I will not cry in
front of someone that’s just made me feel like a groupie. I won’t give him the
satisfaction of knowing that I care. The main door to the suite slams shut, and
my bravado disappears and I slump against the sink looking at my face in the
mirror. My lips are full and bitten and there are small red marks on my breasts
and body which tell the tale of the night, but it’s the tears rolling down my
face that tell the tale of the morning. I jump out of my skin when there’s a
sudden knocking on the door. “Nell,” comes the harsh whisper.

“Yes,” I warble, brushing the
tears frantically away and trying to blot the moisture. “Do you need
something?”

“Yes, your face. I need to speak
to you.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“No.”

“Well it’ll have to,” I say
harshly. “I’m operating on your time schedule Sid and you appear to be in a bit
of a hurry this morning.” This would have sounded really kickass if my voice
hadn’t chosen to hitch in the middle, betraying my tears.

There’s silence for a second and
then a flurry of bangs on the door. “Open this fucking door now Nell.”

“Go away,” I shout furiously.

“If you don’t open it I’m going
to break the fucker down.”

I’m horrified. “You wouldn’t do
that. This is a
really
nice hotel.”

“Nell, I’m a fucking rock star
sweetheart. They’ll consider themselves lucky if there’s still a functioning TV
in here when I leave. Now are you going to open this door?”

I’m silent and he obviously draws
his own conclusion because there’s a sudden terrific crash and I scream as the
door splinters and crashes in, revealing Sid in just a pair of low slung, dark
jeans, a frantic expression on his face and his chest heaving.

“What have you
done
?” I
start to say but then squeak as he comes right at me and clasps me tightly to
him, his face buried in my neck. He’s sweating and I can feel his heart
crashing in his chest and his panting breaths hitting my neck. “I don’t
understand,” I start to say but I’m interrupted by his tight voice.

“I’m sorry Nelly. I’m so fucking
sorry
.”

“What are you sorry about?” I ask
low and cautiously because I hate the idea that he’s apologising for last
night, but once again he surprises me.

“I’m sorry for treating you like
that.”

“Like I was some tart that you’d
picked up for the night?” I say harshly. “Is that what you’re apologising for?”

He raises his head and stares at
me for a second his eyes tortured. “You’re not a tart. I never meant to hurt
you like that. I just…”

“You just what? You skipped
breakfast and decided to eviscerate me instead?” His head jerks. “This,” I
gesture between us. “This might be just fucking but I still have feelings and
you fucking trampled all over them this morning. How am I supposed to feel?”

“I’m sorry,” he says again
remorsefully, his eyes intent on me. “I’m
so
sorry.”

“What happened? Why would you
behave like that?”

“I just got scared that’s all.”
He paces away from me and stands facing away, his hands running frantically
through his hair.

“Scared of what?”

“This,” he shouts, turning around
and pointing between us. “I know I said just fucking, but you’re my friend
Nell. I’ve got a feeling that you’re rapidly becoming one of my best friends. I
talk to you about stuff that I can’t tell anyone else. You make me laugh so
hard and you call me out on my shit. No one really does that anymore.”

“Why is that so bad?”

“It’s not bad, it’s really good
but you know me. I’ll fuck it up somehow and fucking each other is a shortcut
to doing that. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Well behaving like this is a
sure fire way to lose me,” I say sharply, and he jerks and then takes a
defensive stance.

“Well look at you. You’re crying
already. We’ve only had one night together. I usually take a bit longer to
really fuck someone over.”

I’m floundering now. Everything
that he’s saying indicates that he’s got feelings for me, but his body language
says that he’s going to fight that forever. What should I do when I love him so
much even now when he’s being a giant fuckwit? If we stop now I’ll always
wonder if I could have changed his mind and it’s that, that makes me open my
mouth and lie again. “Oh, stop it. Yes, you hurt my feelings but it doesn’t
mean that I’m in love with you. You’re in no danger of me falling all over you.”

He looks remorseful and somehow
like I’ve just hurt him. “I know that Nell. You mustn’t love me. Promise me
that if we carry on doing this that you won’t fall in love with me. That’s if
you still want to fuck me again after my behaving like a complete twat.”

I smile. “I still want to be with
you but you can’t do this again. I promise I won’t fall in love with you in the
future.” I say this steadfastly and it’s actually true because I’m already in
love with him, but he doesn’t know that and he relaxes slightly, although still
looking somehow wounded. “That’s what you wanted to hear isn’t it?” I ask him
and he nods a bit too emphatically.

“Yes, that’s what I want to
hear.” We stare at each other for a second and then he raises his arms. “I know
I fucked it up, but could we have a do over and pretend you’ve just woken up
and I’m doing what I wanted to do anyway and forced myself not to do?”

“What’s that?” I whisper into the
thickening silence.

“Fuck you in the sunlight,” he
mutters, and then he drags me towards him and the sheet is lost and five
minutes later so are his jeans.

***

A week later I’m still confused.
Every night we’re together. Wherever we are we’re fucking way into the night.
It’s incredibly hot and better than anything that I’ve ever had before. He
knows my body better than I do and his concentration level, which does
everybody else’s head in, is definitely to my benefit in bed. We’ve fucked
everywhere – in dressing rooms and cupboards, in clubs, in toilets and even in
a hotel sauna and gym changing room. Neither of us are getting much sleep, but
remarkably I look better than I ever have with a glow about me that even I can
see.

However, in the day he keeps a
weird distance between us. He talks to me as normal but it’s cool, as if he’s
reminding both of us that there’s no chance of anything serious happening.
Painfully, it also sometimes feels as if he’s putting me in my place, and when
he does it I always resolve to keep my distance, but that distance melts like
butter on a hot knife when he pulls me to him at night.

It’s doubly confusing because
sometimes he forgets to be hard and cold and he does such sweet things. He
gives me foot rubs and massages after long days on the bus, and downloads songs
for me that he says remind him of me. He writes me funny, sweet but
blisteringly hot notes which he hides in obscure places, and then yesterday I’d
come back from a tough sound check to find my hotel room full of lilies.
However, I don’t allow myself to dwell on incidents like these. If I’m to escape
this, if not unscathed, then at least mobile, I can’t allow myself to take it
seriously.

The other boys are maintaining a
watchful distance. They treat us the same as normal and don’t mention the fact
that we’re obviously sleeping together, but weirdly they seem to disapprove,
not of me but of Sid, and occasionally I disturb a reproving frown on their
faces particularly Charlie’s, when Sid brushes me off or inadvertently hurts my
feelings. I want to tell him not to fall out with Sid because he’s never been
anything but honest. It’s me that changed the goalposts and he doesn’t even
know that.

Meanwhile we plod on playing some
incredibly beautiful cities. Madrid, Barcelona and Seville slide by and I mark
the dates off on my calendar seeing with a sinking heart how little time we
have left. Sid’s made no mention of what happens after the tour, but I’m
presuming that he’ll go on with his life and I’ll go back to my narrow
existence. That thought twists inside me making me gasp slightly and clutch my
stomach where I feel sick at the thought of never seeing him again. “What’s
up?” he asks sharply.

We’re in a taxi making our way
back to the hotel in Milan after playing our gig and attending the after party
which went brilliantly even if Sid seemed a bit distracted throughout it. I’d
wondered whether he’d been bothered by the fact that early this morning Vanessa
had caught us coming out of Sid’s room. His arm had been around me and we’d
been laughing about something. I’d tried not to be bothered by the fact that he’d
dropped his arm like he’d been burnt as soon as he’d seen Vanessa, but I’d felt
abandoned all the same. Consequently I’d stiffened and moved away from him and
I’d managed to keep my distance all day, shying away from him whenever he’d
tried to talk to me. At first he’d been cool in retaliation but he’d grown
increasingly irritated throughout the day, before lapsing into almost sullen
indifference.

“What’s the matter?” he asks
again. He puts his arm around me for the first time since the morning and I
can’t help but nestle into him, feeling his intense warmth. “Is it your
stomach?” He pulls my hand away. “Are you in any pain sweetheart?”

“I’m alright.” He looks
unconvinced and perfectly prepared to dig into this so I decide to make
something up. “I’ve just got a stomach ache that’s all. It’s coming up to that
time of the month.” He brushes my hair back off my face and it’s such a tender
gesture that I want to cry. I wish that he could see himself the way that I see
him. He thinks that he’s such a fuck up, that he’s not safe around people, but
every day I see his kindness to anyone he comes across. He distracts me by
saying something sharply to the taxi driver who promptly pulls across to the
side of the road.

“Wait here,” he says tersely and
dives into what I see is a pharmacy, the green cross glowing in the cold
darkness of a night in Italy. Five minutes later he’s back in the taxi carrying
two carrier bags.

“What on earth?” I ask and then
gasp as he empties the contents onto the seat.

“I’ve got you some paracetamol
and some ibuprofen as well. The chemist said that you can take both together.”
I nod bemusedly and he carries on. “I’ve got you a hot water bottle to put on
your stomach, lavender oil for your head and lots of chocolate.”

I smile. “Sidney, you do know
your women.”

His returning smile is a little
strained. “Just you. Do you need anything else?” I edge into his arms, feeling
them close tightly around me almost reflexively.

“No that’s brilliant, thank you
so much.”

“Okay.” Resting his face in my
hair he inhales roughly and then kisses my forehead before pulling away as the
taxi pulls up to the hotel. We’re in the lift before he speaks again. “Do you
want to go to your room Nell – you know to be on your own?”

I stare at him confused. “Why
would I want to be on my own?” I start, and then it occurs to me that sweet
gesture aside, he might want rid of me tonight. I swallow hard and then face
forward peering intently at the controls as if they’re intensely interesting.
“I’m fine if that’s what you want,” I say quietly but his arm shoots out and
grabbing my hand he pulls me round to face him. He examines me closely for a
second.

“I don’t want that,” he says
almost reluctantly. “I like to be with you. We don’t have to do anything if
you’re feeling rough. It’s just that I’ve got used to having you next to me and
I actually sleep when you’re there. You’ve no idea how rare that is for me.”
I’m staring at him raptly because he’s almost rambling now like he does when
he’s nervous. He shoots me an enigmatic look. “This morning…,” he starts and I
jerk slightly at which he makes a calming gesture. “I know you think that I was
fucking you off in front of Vanessa like I was ashamed of you, but that’s not
it.”

“Then what was it?” I ask turning
to him and he opens his mouth but at this point the lift dings and the doors
open and he stops. I sigh and he smiles slightly.