Eternally North (29 page)

I stroked his head,
staring at the fireplace.

After an hour of
waiting for His Royal Highness to come out of his grand chamber,
Tinkerbell finally breezed into the living area, chin tilted high,
coming to a stop directly in front of us. Tudor had fallen into a
light sleep, and I was still caressing his head on my lap.

"Babes, wake up,
Tink is ready to read us the riot act," I whispered quietly
whilst shaking his shoulder lightly.

Tink waved his hand
around dismissively in response to me calling Tudor '
Babes
'.
As if he could talk – Pookie and Tater-Tot,
really
?

Tudor got up slowly,
all sorts of gorgeous as he wiped the sleep from his eyes with both
hands. Once he had pulled himself around, he took my hand and quickly
pecked a kiss to my mouth, then sat back, awaiting the expected rant.
Tink watched the little display of affection, his mouth gaping in
outrage.

I shuffled forward.
"Before you start harping on at us, I just want to say that, in
our defense, you were not due back until tomorrow, and that you just
happened to come back at a bit of an awkward moment."

"Too bloody right
I did! I came back early to check you were over your illness. Seems
you were over that alright and jumped straight
under
him!"

He moved to sit on the
edge of the coffee table only three feet away from the couch and
crossed his legs and arms. "
So
, when did this little
development happen, huh?" he barked, waving his hand around
camply.

I looked down at our
entwined hands and started to speak, but Tudor beat me to it.
"Officially yesterday, but you could say it has been building
for several weeks."

My bestie started
waggling one finger like he would if he were on
Ricki Lake
.
"Weeks? All I have seen is her upset or pining after you. You’ve
been leading her on then fucking her off most of the time. You made
her like you – a lot, I might add – and then you would drop her
like a sack of last week’s potatoes! Is that what you call
‘building’? Fuck knows what foreplay would be to you then!"
he shrieked.

Tudor tensed up, bowing
his head. I had to intervene. "Tink, Tudor’s apologised and
I’ve forgiven him, he's explained what happened and you have to let
it go. Please, I want my best friend to support me in this," I
reached forward and took his hand. He snatched it back, wiping it on
his shirt as though it were infected. Mature as ever.

"Just because he
apologised doesn't mean he won't screw you over. For God’s sake,
Wil, he says he’s sorry and you open your Wendy-wide legs and let
him shag you – hell, not shag, bloody roast you! He had you pinned
between the wall and his red-hot poker like you were impaled on a
frigging spit; you’re only missing the butter and seasoning and
you’d legitimately be barbeque!
And
you did it against my
walnut-whip designer paint of all things! $500 a pot, Wil, $500 –
it’s fucking imported!"

I lowered my head in
defeat, and Tudor leaned in to comfort me. I couldn't help it, I
began to cry. As much as my over-the-top queen and I squabble, it’s
always just friendly banter. This was him really telling me what for.
He was really angry – granted, it was mostly because of the paint,
but it still felt like shit. How could I start a relationship with
someone when my best friend, my soul mate, didn't approve?

I tucked my head into
the comfort of Tudor's large chest and let the floodgates open. I
pressed my head against his shirt, knowing that if I had to choose,
at this point it would have to be Tink, but the pain it would cause
me, knowing what could have been with Tudor, caused me to feel
nauseous. I could fall in love with this man, hell, who was I
kidding? I
was
falling in love with him, it
had
been
building for weeks. It had been growing steadily every day since the
morning of my concussion, and now that we were officially together,
it was intensifying ten-fold. I couldn't help my feelings.

I heard Tudor draw a
ragged breath, and looked up to see his sad eyes and him shaking his
head, resigned. He kissed a falling tear on each side of my face and
pressed his forehead to mine. "I won't come between you and
Tink, Sunshine. I'll give you some time and see you again when it's
all calmed down, okay? Look at me."

I met his gaze and
shook my head; I didn't want him to leave.

"Hey, I'm not
giving you up, but I'm not going to wreck a life-long friendship
either. You made me yours, remember? I told you you're stuck with
me."

I nodded silently,
soaking my cheeks with salty droplets. Tudor moved in to give me a
slow, deep kiss, and got up from the couch.

I watched him walk
away, before he stopped and faced Tink. "I know you don't like
me much, and I am the first to admit that my past behaviour with Tash
has been horrendous and unforgivable and therefore I understand, but
just know that I would do anything for her. I can't give her up, not
now.

“It is my deepest
wish that you and I, at some point, can move past this and be friends
too. You’re the boyfriend of my best friend, and I'm now the
boyfriend of yours. I know you would like me if you just gave me a
chance, and I hope you realise that I will never do anything to hurt
Tash ever again, and us fighting is hurting her more than anything.
So I'll go and let you work this out."

Tudor gave me a final
strained, lopsided smirk and made his way to the door. I turned to
Tink, whose bottom lip was shaking. I smiled at my bloody daft best
friend. "
Tink
."

His face crumpled and
he started to cry hysterically, like only Tink can.

He dived to the couch
and began to wail. "I'm sorry, piglet. I thought I was
protecting you but I'm hurting you, aren't I?"

I gripped him tightly
in a hug. "You are protecting me, but Tudor won't hurt me, you
have to trust that too. I really like him, chuck, like, Elton John
and David Furnish-style like him; I’m even going so far as to say
that I’d pick him over your treasured Mother Monster Gaga at this
point."

Tink swooned, complete
with hand on head, and fell off the couch at my confession, fanning
his face with the Madonna Sex Book we keep on the table for visiting
guests to peruse.

After receiving some
much-needed air, he staggered to his feet, casually licking Madonna’s
protruding nipple on an open page, and put his hand on my knee. “Wil,
I didn’t realise it was that serious, not so much that you’d
renounce your Little Monster status to keep him! By all the glitter
in Hobbycraft, I’ve been blind! Blinded by my prejudice towards the
big, tattooed Canuck, but now I see you were born to be together!”

Over the top as
always!

Tink released a
blood-curdling shriek and ran to the doorway where Tudor was just
leaving. "Tudor, come here, you big brute!" and he wrapped
his arms around Tudor’s neck, crying (or singing – the jury’s
still out) loudly, dangling off him like a necklace.

Tudor, looking very
deer-in-the-headlights, glanced towards me, seeking some help. I
started to laugh and gave him a thumbs-up that made him smile, and he
awkwardly patted Tink on the back.

The dedicated Little
Monster pulled back, all smiles. "We’re now friends, big boy,
but hurt my little tenderloin over there and we’re gonna
throw-down! Capisce?"

Tudor slapped his back
and winked. "Capisce!"

Tink tilted his head to
me, "Wilbur, get involved... group hug!" he sang.

I ran over and wrapped
an arm around each of my guys. Tink kissed us both on the cheek and
drew back. "Just so you know, I don't wanna see any more
wall-fucking in the condo hallway, but feel free to spit-roast
Wilbur’s hungry beaver in the comfort of her bedroom."

We hid the laughter.

"You have my
word," assured Tudor awkwardly.

Tink pursed his lips,
accepting his promise. Just as we were breaking away from the hug,
Tudor jumped, his face horrified. "He just nipped my ass!"

Tink held up his hand,
"
Guilty!
And it certainly is a fine one. Thank the God’s
for squats! I may not want to see you porking my bestie in a live sex
show, but feel free to walk round with that spank-bank-worthy
tush-tush out on display... just don't bend over, 'cos then you're
fair game!"

If someone had told me
at the beginning of the year that by November I would have a new
boyfriend, live in another country and, oh yeah, that the new
boyfriend would be a-hunk-a-hunk-o’-burning-superstar, well, I'd
have told them to bugger off and back away from whatever substance
they had been sniffing!

But here we were, in
that exact situation. Tudor and I were officially a couple, and we
had spent the last few weeks in a blissful and lust-filled state.
Tink too was flying around on a very legal high and becoming more
than a little in love with Tater-Tot. We had even developed our own
little clique, the 'Four-Ts'.

But like all good
things – L’Oreal’s Shocking Volume Waterproof Mascara, Cadbury
Crème Eggs after Easter and the perfect display that was Jennifer
Aniston and Brad Pitt’s marriage, to name but a few – it had to
come to an end, and we were heading up Shit’s Creek at a rapid
speed without a paddle.

It was the last week of
term in December, only four days of school left before the Christmas
vacation, when the phone calls began and my loving boyfriend began to
change.

Tink, Tate, Tudor and I
were out at Ristorante Girasoli (once again hidden in the back room)
enjoying dinner when my man received yet another mysterious call. Up
until that point I had not really questioned who they were from, as
Tudor had assured me that I could trust him. I assumed it was his
“people” in LA talking business and then I quickly changed my
mind. The problem was that he would not give me
any
information on the matter whenever I asked him, and my inner Miss.
Marple suspicions were aroused.

When the ringtone
sounded, and he lost the 'nice-Tudor’ personality I adored and
adopted the 'bastard-Tudor' I was once victim to, I stilled and
prodded Tink's leg under the table to give him a heads up. I had
confided in Tink about the strange goings-on of late, and this was
the first public call Tudor had gotten, the first opportunity for
someone other than me to witness.

Tink winked once to let
me know he was paying attention, and we listened as we ate our
carprese.

"Hello… yeah,
shit, okay... no I’ll be there...when... no, I'll be alone... no,
no-one, nothing special… yeah, I’ll call you soon."

Tudor never once made
eye contact with anyone during the conversation, and when he was
finished he slammed his phone down onto the table top, practically
splitting the wood in two.

I stared at Tink, who
had his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Tate’s head was cast down and
he was fiddling with his hands.

I cleared my throat.
"Tude, are you okay?" I swallowed back the fear I felt
brewing in my stomach.

"What?" he
snapped.

I drew back at his
aggressive tone. His manner was overtly hostile – whatever the
problem was, it seemed to be getting worse.

"She asked if you
were alright!" Tink bit back, defensive hackles rising.

Tudor rubbed his hand
over his face and looked my way. "Yeah, I'm fine, just stop
asking." He was cold and distant.

"Who was that?"
I dared ask. I was
over
not knowing.

He whipped his head up
to look at me and sternly shook his head. He stood abruptly,
discarding his napkin on his barely-touched food and reached for his
hooded leather coat, motioning to Tate that it was time to leave.

"I need to go.
I'll call later, okay?" He leaned forward and brushed a
meaningless kiss across my forehead.

"You're just going
to leave? Leave us sitting here like numpties?" I spat out.
Tudor was annoyed, and groaned in exasperation, eying Tink warily.
"Tash, I need to go. Can you just get a ride back with Tink,
please? This is not the time or the place to start with the questions
again."

Well, that told me!

I threw down my own
napkin and crossed my arms. "Fine, just bloody go then!" I
turned to Tink. "Come on, chuck, I've suddenly lost my
appetite."

I grabbed my bag from
the back of my chair and stood, linking arms with my fabulous fairy,
and stormed past Tudor. Tink tutted, clicked a finger in Tudor’s
face, blew a kiss at Tate, but kept up with my pace.

Tudor turned to us,
trying to catch my sleeve with his hand. "Tash, please, I have
to go but–."

I put up a hand. "But
let me guess, you can't tell me why?"

He opened his mouth
several times like he was trying to explain, but no words popped out.

I nodded once. "Thought
so. Let's just go, Tink."

"Mmm… hmm. Let's
split like a banana, Toots!"

By the time I had got
to the car, I was shaking with anger, literally bouncing in the
passenger seat with fury. I turned to Tink. "What the hell was
all that about? I told you the phone calls seemed dodgy. Has Tate
said anything lately about what's going on? Even just a hint?"

He shook his head. "No,
not a peep! But I agree, how weird was that? Who d’you think called
him? ‘Cos whoever it was has royally pissed him off."

I shrugged. "I
don't know. You know, over the last week he's been getting these
phone calls at all hours, and every time I ask who it is he just
tells me not to worry and to just 'trust him'.”

Tink pulled out of the
parking lot. "And do you? Trust him, I mean?"

We watched as Tate and
Tudor got into the Jeep and sped away in the opposite direction.

"I think I do, but
what can be so bad that he can't talk about it?"