“Maybe…” I say, turning and heading back to the stool.
“Maybe” buys me more time.
“Maybe” gives me some time to fill up with enough Dutch courage to remove some of the barbed wire around my heart and allow myself to be more intimate.
More vulnerable.
More exposed.
“Solid work today, Alex,” Paul says.
I’m still raging about the stunt he tried to pull earlier. For the fact that I had to strong-arm him into getting him to do what I asked for. Especially after I’d conceded to giving up my free time to do the promos.
“Thanks,” I say through gritted teeth, keeping my eyes focused out the car window.
“They’re gonna bounce the tracks over to LA tonight to bemixed and mastered. We should have something before we wake up in the morning to approve and sign off on.”
At this point, I barely care about anything.
The alcohol is working its magic. Nathan gave me two additional drinks in between filming the live videos to accompany the live EP release. Not only has it reduced the intrusive thoughts and feelings, it’s also greatly reduced the number of fucks I give.
My gaze briefly drifts to my bag, where two bottles of Belvedere are wrapped up in my leather jacket. Hopefully the car ride is smooth, with no sudden jerks to make them clink.
“Cool.” My voice is drained of all energy, and my body feels like it’s shattered and running on empty.
All I want is my bed and a decent night’s sleep.
My insomnia is bad at the best of times, but this schedule, coupled with the fact that I barely slept last night, has me yawning repeatedly. So much so that I’m fogging up the window.
Paul takes the hint that I don’t want to talk. The rest of the drive back to the hotel is cloaked in silence. Paul turns on his iPad, and Lucy and Rob tap away at their phones. Lord’s Cricket Ground catches my eye as we drive past. I wonder if the cricket players there have a schedule as relentless as mine.
The usual kerfuffle greets me as we arrive back at the hotel, and I’m quickly swept through the back entrance and into the small elevator on the right that barely fits the four of us.
I’m assuming Christopher and the rest of the team aren’t far behind and will make their way up in another elevator. I keep my head lowered as we exit and walk through the maze of hallways, past a couple of guests and a room service trolley, back to my suite. One of the local security guards standing by my door opens it, letting me through.
“Thanks guys,” I acknowledge.
I ignore the folders and paperwork strewn across the table, close the door behind me, and make my way into the bathroom. I toss the backpack on the counter, strip out of my clothes, and turn on the shower.
“Alex?” The sound of Christopher’s voice drifts through the suite.
My smile rises as I step under the warm water.
I like the way he pronounces my name with his English accent. And the fact that he calls me Alex, not Alexander. Maybe we are getting more intimate as we get to know each other more.
“Just jumping in the shower, make yourself at home,” I shout back.
I let the water wash over on me as I pump the shampoo into my hands, applying it to my hair. Before I finish, I turn the handle as far to the left as it will go. Ice-cold water shoots out, forcing a shudder through my body. It’s a habit I’ve gotten into to help calm my nervous system down.
Just as I reach to turn the water off, the bathroom door bursts open.
“What the fuck is this?” Christopher shouts.
His hand pushes a folder up against the glass. I squint through the condensation, trying to make out the word written across the front.
Christopher.
16.Christopher
