‘From what?’
‘From everything.’ He looked unsure of himself, like the words he needed were there but he didn’t trust them. ‘There’s stuff I can’t escape from, in here,’ he said, eventually, tapping his temple. ‘And then there’s the “perks” of the job. It’d be nice to be able to go out without being followed or photographed. I guess you got a taste of that too, so you know what I mean.’
Netta nodded. ‘At least it was only for a while, for me. I can’t imagine what it must be like to live like that all the time.’
He shrugged. ‘People think that when you have money, you have freedom. And I guess that’s true in lots of ways, but when your money comes from fame, there’s a price.’
They held a gaze that Netta had to break. She couldn’t let her empathy turn into another reason to fall for him. She glanced at her watch. ‘Let’s make this the last one; it’s getting late and you have a bit of a drive to get home. Or are you staying in the city tonight?’
‘Nope, home for me. I’ve got Jac on standby out the front.’
Netta smelled bullshit. Mo and Lorena had looked like a hands-down promise. Perhaps Mo had sensed her burgeoning crush and was protecting her feelings by keeping his beautiful lips firmly zipped about the sexathon he was off to next. She sighed inwardly and drew a card.
‘Ooh, this one’s a bit intense.’
‘Hit me.’
‘Tell me about a time you lost something you loved.’
Mo set his empty beer bottle on the floor beside him. ‘Yeah, you know what? I think I’m done for the night. You’re right. It’s late.’
‘Okay.’ Netta scrambled awkwardly to her feet and took Mo’s clothes from the chair he’d hung them on. ‘These are dry.’
‘Thanks.’ He disappeared into the bathroom and quickly reappeared, dressed in his jeans and jumper. ‘Sorry to leave so abruptly,’ he said, grabbing his jacket. ‘I just, ah … I just remembered that Jac clocks off in a couple of hours, so I need to go now.’
He hugged Netta goodbye. Her arms hung by her sides, frozen by the feeling of his wrapped around her.
‘Er, okay then,’ he said, straightening. ‘I’ll buzz you in the morning.’
He strode out of the room and closed the door behind him, Netta still standing like a statue, wondering whether it was her or the question that had scared him off. Maybe he was just desperate to get to Lorena. And who could blame him? She was probably waiting for him, wrapped up like a Christmas present in three thousand dollar lingerie. And, Netta guessed, Lorena’s arms probably knew exactly what to do when he hugged her.
Netta wandered miserably into the bathroom to brush her teeth. The pyjamas he’d been wearing were folded neatly on the vanity, the striped top sitting on the flannelette pants. She picked them up and hugged them to her chest. They smelled like cologne and curry and beer and Mo-ness.
Oh, shit. She had itbad.
This was a disaster.
Chapter Thirty-One
MO
The next morning, Mo woke to the same cloud of confusion he’d gone to bed with. Netta. Netta. Netta. Was she all he could think about these days? He rolled over, buried his head under the pillow and let out a low groan of frustration.
Yesterday. What the fuck had that been all about? He’d thought they’d had such a good time at Bianchi’s—it had felt like a date—but she’d been so distant after the rehearsal. And then, oh God, that mortifying attempt to hug her as he left the hotel room. She hadn’t even remotely hugged him back. She’d just stood there, motionless, like she was trying to wish herself out of her own body. Maybe he’d read it all wrong and she just straight up wasn’t interested—she was just in it for the money.
He kicked back the blankets and sat, stretching his arms above his head and then out to the sides, squeezing his shoulder blades together. He’d been so close, last night, to telling her about what had happened with his mum. Netta had this way about her that swung a sledgehammer at his walls without her even having to try.
He threw on a windcheater and shuffled to the kitchen. Mav sat at the bench, halfway through a coffee.
‘Morning,’ Mo mumbled.
Mav gave him an up-and-down appraisal. ‘You look like shit.’
‘Thanks, mate.’
‘Where were you last night?’ Mav curled his left hand into a tunnel and poked his right index finger in and out of the hole.
Mo laughed. ‘Don’t be juvenile. I wasn’t with anyone. Not like that, anyway.’
