Blazed (39 page)

The guys didn't flinch at the sound of me
 retching, seduced into a coma by the cognac Jonathan had cracked open when he'd gotten home and heard the miserable tale of my failed relationship. I'd been right there with them in their alcoholic buzz up to a point but never quite managed to shake off that sense of uselessness. 

I wished it wasn't so late, or early. It was still mostly dark outside, so I knew it must be in the small numbers of the AM and not really an appropriate time to take a shower. The nightmare had left me drenched in a cold sweat and it made me feel dirty, just like last time.
 I was vaguely aware that I'd been having a lot of bad dreams recently, but didn't tend to remember them when I'd woke up. They were almost definitely the same one. There was no mistaking that triumphant flare of pride when my eyes first opened— the one I couldn't control but made me feel awful anyway.

With no methods of hygiene available, I slouched back into the lounge to attack rather than drink some more wine. If it made me sick again, I didn't care. I didn't want to be capable of cognitive thought for at least a fortnight, or until scientists could develop an effective way to selectively erase memories like in
 
Men In Black.
 Whichever came first. 

I made the stupid mistake of looking at my phone. The picture of Blaze and I was still the wallpaper, but that wasn't what felt like a dagger in my heart. He'd been trying to call me. A lot. For my own sanity, I dismissed the notification for his missed calls and erased all twelve of his text messages without reading them. If I let myself believe there was a way back, I was likely to take it. I missed him, and my still throbbing muscles reminded me that he'd spent an afternoon making it clear that his place was inside me in every way. It was, and I'd probably feel him there for days, getting lost in the fantasies of how hotly we burned for each other, and how bone-shakingly awesome it would be if we found our ways back to each other.

Maybe I 
had
 handled it wrong. Maybe I should have just been happy to have had the chance at all...

"Hi, this is Blaze. Obviously you're calling at a ridiculous hour and I'm sleeping so leave me a message and I'll call you back when this man's brain opens for business."

I called five times before I gave up and told myself that I needed to cut my losses. He's been upfront in telling me that he couldn't get attached and obviously had a damn good reason. This was never meant to get serious; it was always supposed to just be both of us getting our end away, and he was going to realise that too. We'd just gotten swept up in the drama, but in a few days, this would all look much better. We might even be friends again one day. Purely platonic friends. Another notch in my 'platonic penis' belt.

I sat and drank for hours, but didn't really feel like it was touching my sobriety. When the early rumble of traffic started to move outside, I sneaked out as quietly as possible with my sights set on a secluded café that kept stacks of books that people had left behind. Failing that, I'd buy a new book. I wanted to get lost in someone else's woeful romance.

When I'd sourced my caffeine fix, I tried to distract myself with as much banal bullshit as possible to clear my mind before I started reading. I logged into my email account on my mobile phone and went through the tedious task of deleting all the junk mail. Depressingly, that left me only with emails from Hunter with various 'URGENT' titles.
 
Idiot.
 He thought anything was urgent when it came from his mouth/fingers. I counted through all the change in my purse, taking out the copper change for the charity box. That was my good deed for the day. It was around the time I was sorting through my old receipts that I was reminded of the last time I'd declared a good deed done.

A faded black and dog eared business card covered in gold font stared up at me from between the scraps of paper. A business card for one Calloway Ryan of New York
— the sexy suit from Oxford street. What was it with these gorgeous men and their equally as impressive names? I hadn't made good on my promise to call him and I still had his money clip...

And then I found the creased wedding invitation from Hunter stuffed into a credit card compartment. That invitation to
Japan was still open. I knew the language, had the money and could contact the right people...

Or I could swallow my pride and throw myself into the lava pits.
 The moment I looked at my phone and saw Blaze's face staring up at me was the same moment my mind was made up. I could sit around moping or I could start to make some big changes in my life— productive this time. I'd been offered so many opportunities and never taken advantage of them, and running away was my forte. It was my tendency to build bridges to replace those I'd burned, but now it was time to rebuild some of those that weren't completely destroyed. 

And if I had to sell a little of my soul to get there, it was a cost I'd gladly pay. Blaze wasn't the only one who could find a way into an impenetrable vessel and make changes on the inside that pushed their way out.
 

I felt invincible when I made the call I swore I'd never make. He sounded shocked but pleasantly surprised when he answered, his voice bright, so I knew I hadn't woken him. 

"Emmeline, are you alright?"
 I wasn't, not quite yet.

"I'm... Look, I know this is unexpected and I probably have no right to ask, but
—"

"Just tell me what you need. I'd do anything for you, you know that."
 

"I need your help."

Calmly, I explained my plans and justified them completely so he had no reason to think that I was acting on a whim. He agreed that what I wanted was sensible and not unreasonable. We decided to meet in the café I was in to discuss the finer details and set a solid plan for the foreseeable future.

WHEN THE TAXI arrived to take us back to the flat, I left Emmy White behind with my half-drunk cup of coffee. I left her there with all my behaviours and predispositions that had made me become such a weak person. I left her with my morals and my idea of what was 'right'.
 

I left as Emmeline Tudor, mega-mogul's daughter and heiress to billions, and my life had just begun.

To be continued...

So here I am, on the day of my twenty-fifth birthday, sending this tale out to you. Of all of the books I’ve written, I think BLAZED reminds me the most of my friends.

I don’t think any of my close friends have a good firm history of mental health. They all have
something
that makes them a little broken. From borderline personality disorder to depression to pathological liars, I’ve had it all in my life one way or another.

And they are all
beautiful.
My bitches; you are my Big Bang. Nobody could ask for a better bunch of friends who cry hard and laugh harder. Your loyalty to your fellow fuck-ups goes above and beyond.

Thank you for the alcohol. Thank you for the coffee. Thank you for the dry wit and sarcasm. Thank you for humouring me when I drivel on about my books. Thank you for being my secular circle of social rejects, nay, my coven. And thanks for the memes. Seriously.

I also have to end some serious kudos out to my hardcore fan Lou Turner, who’s got a lot of people to join in the craziness, and Louise Ebdon, who’s given me some pretty wicked compliments.

And of course, thanks as ever to my proof-readers, Michelle and Lindsay.

You have all played a part in my ability to look back over being twenty-four and honestly say ‘last year kind of rocked’.

Now if I could only find one of these fabulous fictional men of mine for real and make it big by twenty-six.

MUSIC

‘Mack The Knife’ by Frank Sinatra

‘Thnks Fr Th Mmr’ by Fallout Boy

Panic! At The Disco

‘Glorybox’ by Portishead

QUOTES

“To fear love is to fear life.”

Betrand Russell