Reverb (9 page)

Chapter Thirteen

AVERY

I don't tell anybody what I'm doing and none of my housemates are home when the taxi pulls up outside the small terraced house. My hands shake as the doorbell rings and I leap off the sofa, brushing my sweaty palms along my blue dress.

The giddy butterfly sensation in my stomach intensifies as I open the door to Bryn.

Bryn Hughes.

My heart does a tiny somersault with the swarming butterflies.

Rock star.

The mountain of a man who I spent a night with and wish I'd stayed conscious for, looks extraordinary on my doorstep. For a moment, I stare at the smiling mouth, remembering the day he kissed me, and my body heats a few degrees.

My daydreams and memories don't measure up to how goddamn hot this guy is. Bryn’s dark grey shirt stretches across the muscles of the broad chest he once squashed me against, the edges of a black and red tattoo visible where his top button is casually undone. Mountain man Bryn, as solid and imposing as my nickname for him, supercharges my hormones with thoughts of the strength of his arms and what he could do with that mouth.

Excuse me while I fall into a not too delicate heap on the floor in front of him.

Bryn shakes his curled fringe from his eyes. “Hey, cariad.”

Bryn’s voice¸ the way he uses the endearment, disintegrates most of the doubt I'm doing the right thing by agreeing to meet him. The remaining doubt is this 'date' could be all about the sex we missed out on. I can deal with the issue when we reach that point. Because it will be when, not if. Why else would this man want to spend time with an ordinary girl?

“Bryn.”

Each place Bryn’s gaze rests on me heats beneath his attention. I'm wearing my one and only semi-smart dress, deep blue and cut princess line to flatter, the chiffon floating to knee length. “Great to see you again.”

“I hope I'm dressed okay?” I ask, highly doubting I will be amongst the designer guests.

“You look good to me.”

I turn away so he can't see his compliment makes me blush. “Thanks. Come in; I need to grab my bag.”

I step to one side and Bryn follows me into the lounge room, which for once is tidy due to the fact I cleaned it and my housemates have been out all day. By tomorrow morning, things will be different.

Bryn shoves his hands in his trouser pockets and glances around at the worn carpet and chipped plaster on the walls. “Nice place.”

“Liar.”

“I wonder if I'd have lived somewhere like this if I'd gone to uni?”

“Probably. Such a shame you got rich and famous instead.”

He doesn't smile or give a comeback; forehead creased as he looks around at the threadbare brown carpet and tatty blue lounge chairs. “Yeah.”

I head to the kitchen and Bryn follows like a lost puppy. He continues to stare, as if he's landed in a third world country. “Your house is cold.”

“Heating's broken.”

“In this weather? Why don't you fix it?”

“We're waiting for the landlord to sort everything out. He's slow.”

“Not good.”

“Nope.” I pick up the blue bag that matches my dress. The dress and bag I’ve worn once in my life then hung onto in case something formal comes up again. I never thought it would be an occasion like this.

“Are you looking forward to tonight?” he asks.

“Yes and no. I'm still surprised you called me.”

“I told you, I like you and wanted to catch up again.”

But, why?
I want to ask, but “Right,” is the best response I can manage.

We head out of the house to the waiting cab. I feel ridiculous, like a teen girl heading to a formal with a boy she isn't sure what she’ll do with when the evening ends.

This could be a big mistake.

On the drive across the city, Bryn quizzes me about what I've done since we last met and skilfully fields any questions about himself. His solid thigh touches my naked leg, and I swallow against the arousal the slightest touch causes. The whole situation is edged by a surrealism that's stranger than the dreams I've had about Bryn – and there've been a few.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Nervous. I don't like going places where there'll be a lot of people I don’t know.”

“You'll be fine. I'll protect you,” he says with a small smile. “If you protect me.”

“From what?”

“Oh, you know, hordes of screaming girls wanting to get their hands on me.” He laughs at my wide-eyed response. “I'm joking. I'm not that irresistible, am I?”

Is he expecting an answer? In the dim of the taxi, I can't read his expression so I look out of the cab window instead.

The taxi pulls up on a quiet side street and I glance around in confusion as I climb out. No building shows any sign of life, every door closed.

Until we walk around the corner. I stop dead at the edge of an area cordoned off by red rope. Bulky security in black suits stand in the small doorway, and photographers loiter nearby. A couple head past us, and I catch a glimpse of the young woman's face beneath her platinum blonde hair. Do I recognise her? I'm sure I've seen her on TV. Instantly, the crowd of media shout at the couple and blinding camera lights flash.

What the hell?
“Small party?” I ask sarcastically.

“Um, yeah. About that.”

My suspicions were aroused when we headed into the centre of London, and despite the unobtrusive entrance, the club is located in one of the more exclusive streets full of popular restaurants and nightspots frequented by celebrities. The number of people passing the press and heading through the cordoned off area, into the venue does not equal 'small party'.

“Where are we?”

“Destination 1. Yvonne Tyler's birthday. She runs one of the city’s big PR firms, has a lot of clients and this is one of her newest. Everybody who's anybody will be here.’

“Everybody and anybody – and me,” I mutter. “I wish you hadn't lied to me!”

“I didn't lie. I was just economical with the truth.”

This man is infuriating. Did I miss that part before I agreed to come with him?

We're interrupting the flow of people so I step to one side. I smooth my dress self-consciously as another expensively dressed couple pass. Amongst this crowd, I may as well have worn jeans; that's how far removed from their celebrity dress code I am. With the matching heels, I'm a few inches taller but still nose to chest if I turn to Bryn. Our height difference makes chastising him bloody difficult.

“I'm not dressed for this!”

Bryn casts a roving look along my body. “I said before, you look good to me.”

Not as good as him. Dark designer suit over the charcoal grey shirt that fits him beautifully. The night we met, he was wearing a suit too and his usual rough and inviting aura inside tailored clothing is sexier than my hormones can handle. With no tie, his smart shirt could easily be undone to reveal the tattooed guy who I've mentally undressed too many times.

I am embarrassed to say, I deliberately searched for pictures of Bryn on the internet to get another look at him semi-naked.

Shameful behaviour.

But, I was successful and the pictures were bloody hot.

Bryn holds a hand in my direction. “Shall we?”

I’m seconds away from refusing and heading back to the cab. “I don't know why I agreed to do this.”

“Because I'm awesome!” he says with a wink. “Let's go, cariad.” He grabs my hand and may as well have jolted me with a few thousand volts, his touch surging through my body and fusing my hand to his.

We head to the front of the club, past the bouncers manning the entrance.

Cameras flash in my face and I panic. “You said they didn't care about the drummer!”

“They'll take a picture of anybody famous at functions like this.”

To my horror, he pauses for the cameras, slipping an arm around my waist. I never agreed to be this, and I bet the stunned look on my face will be extra flattering.

“Smile,” he whispers in my ear and I wrinkle my nose at the sensation of his warm breath against my face. Perfect, an even better look for the camera.

“Bryn!” I hiss.

“Don't stress, I doubt you'll be famous for longer than five minutes.”

I swallow, annoyed at my naivety. “Sure.”

“Besides, I know you. After a few drinks, you'll be more relaxed.” He pauses. “Maybe not so relaxed you're lying on the floor. If we could avoid that, it would help.”

“Ha bloody ha.”

Slightly stupefied, I allow him to lead me into the bright venue. To my dismay, I step onto a shiny tiled floor. Note to self: do not drink too much. Bright crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, out of place in the chrome and glass surroundings as they illuminate the square metal tables surrounded by plush chairs. Waiters walk around with flutes of champagne on trays and unidentifiable scraps of food. A crowd of beautiful people mingle, kisses floating in the air around.

I gaze up at the mezzanine floor, convinced I've spotted at least half of the latest reality TV stars in the two minutes since I arrived. Perspiration pools along my back despite the cool temperature. Again - what the hell am I doing here?

At least nobody looks at me.

“Bryn! Mia said you…” A middle-aged woman in a tight, short, white dress designed for women a lot younger than her, and covered in expensive diamond jewellery, halts as she sees me. “Oh. Introduce us!”

“Yvonne, this is Avery. Avery, Yvonne. PR lady extraordinaire who has arranged this little get-together for her birthday.”

“Happy Birthday.” Why has my voice descended into a squeak?

Yvonne laughs and pushes Bryn's shoulder. “It's a big one for me, twenty-one again!” I mentally roll my eyes. Probably for the twenty-first time.

She continues to study me, as if categorising and ticking boxes in her head. “Well, aren't you just darling!” Yvonne air kisses me and waves goodbye with a manicured hand, back to circulating amongst her many guests.

“Does she mean Mia who’s the girl you told me about before? The one who is um..
keen
on you?” I ask.

“Yeah. Still doesn’t understand the word ‘no’. She wanted me to bring her here tonight.”

“Does she know you're bringing me?”

“She knows I'm bringing somebody.”

“Oh, God.” Images of a woman scorned and a nasty scene involving me, Mia and Bryn shudder across my mind.
Avery, your stupidity knows no bounds.
“Find me somewhere dark to sit.”

I shove Bryn in the direction of a quieter corner.

“Sure thing.” He wraps an arm around my waist and guides me to a table.

Each time Bryn touches me, I'm ready to collapse into him just so I can put my hands on his body to support myself. The strength in this man matched with his gentle nature send my mind wandering back to the image of his naked chest. I swear I'm obsessed by that image. I think about that moment at least twenty times a day. Sometimes more when I’m nodding off in boring classes.

“I don’t understand what’s going on between you and her, but you’ve made me part of it by bringing me here! That’s unfair, Bryn.”

“Nothing is going on. Now I’m here with you, it will help her realise that. I bloody hope.”

We sit close and whatever woody fragrance Bryn uses is mingled with a hint of sexy rock star; the scent of the man who kissed me and who I kissed back, and wish I hadn’t. Once you’ve had a kiss like that, it’s going to be hard to find another that measures up.

“You asked me on a date to piss Mia off? Nice.”

“No, I asked you to come with me because I wanted to see you. Mia doesn’t need to know we hardly know each other; we can tell her we have a thing.”

“A ‘thing’?”

“A ‘we’re a couple’ thing.”

I swallow hard, suspicion rising over Bryn’s motives. “But I hardly know you.”

“Which is why I asked you to come with me. I want to get to know you.” He slings an arm across the back of the seat, comfortable with a situation that grows more uncomfortable for me by the second.

“I need a drink.”

“Sure thing, cariad.”

As Bryn walks away, I stare after him. People step to one side as he approaches, his physical presence reaching further than his tall frame and I’m not the only girl in the room watching him. I sigh, aware how out of my league this god of a man is to me. Why am I digging myself further into a Bryn-sized hole?

****

BRYN

Avery is cute. Funny. This package of sexy girl with a feisty way of dealing with her world is what brought me back to her. I haven't met anybody like Avery for years, and Avery's presence pushed Hannah into the back of my mind for a few hours last time I saw her. For the first time, somebody interrupts my thoughts of Hannah and that's a useful quality in a girl. Shame this will only be a few weeks before we go our separate ways. Who knows, maybe this could've been more.