Lila’s light dimmed a little at the thought. Ruth was going to bring strangers back to their apartment? She supposed that was a normal, adult thing to do when making connections with people didn’t take you over a decade. And it wasn’t like Lila disapproved – she just didn’t much like the thought of getting up in the morning and having to deal with a stranger staring at her while she ate her cornflakes, or whatever she was going to have for breakfast here.
‘Is that going to be a problem?’ Ruth’s voice cooled noticeably, and Lila shook her head so hard she was surprised it didn’t pop off and roll underneath the chest of drawers.
‘It’s not a problem at all,’ she reiterated. ‘Honestly. I’m just not great at spontaneity myself, so…’
‘Right…’ Ruth frowned, and Lila felt her adrenalin kicking in. Yes. She really had just upset the one person she was going to be seeing the most of, for the next six months.Way to go, Lila.
‘We should probably swap numbers, so I can text you or something to warn you, if you like?’ Ruth continued. ‘And also if, like, one of us forgets our key, y’know?’
‘That makes sense.’ Lila went over to her bag and dug out her cell. It needed charging but when she pulled out her plug, it wouldn’t fit. ‘Oh, are there different sockets here to the ones in England too?’
‘Yup. Maybe you can plug your US adaptor into my UK one?’
Lila grimaced. ‘You reckon that’s safe?’
Ruth shrugged. ‘I dunno, I’m not an electrician. I tell you what, you can ask Marcus. We said we’d all meet for dinner tonight, check out the area.’
‘Oh no. That’s fine. I’ll have to grab one anyway. And I was thinking I’d get some supplies from the local bodega and have a quiet one tonight – get over the flight and everything.’
‘What’s a bodega?’
‘A shop, like a grocer’s.’ Lila frowned. ‘Don’t you say that in the UK?’
‘Nope. Guess I’m gonna be learning American as well as Italian, eh?’ Ruth tossed her hair back from her face. ‘You don’t want to come out to dinner then?’
‘Not tonight, thanks.’
Ruth pressed her lips together and nodded slowly. ‘Well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning.’
Lila swallowed as Ruth walked away. Damn – she was royally screwing this up already. A squirmy, scrambling feeling filled her chest. ‘Is there anything I can grab you, while I’m at the shop?’ she called out, injecting as much lightness and friendliness into her voice as she could manage.I am a nice person, I am.
‘Nah, I’m good. Thanks.’ Ruth’s voice faded as she disappeared back inside her room.
Lila sighed and sat down on the bed again, holding her dead phone. She would definitely go to the next social event she was invited to, shewould.
If she was ever asked again.
Rowan
Rowan lay in bed, the balcony doors to his room at the villa cracked open to allow the soft morning breeze in. Outside he could hear the first stirring of birds as the sun rose. It should have been the perfect atmosphere for him to get off to sleep again. Heshouldhave been relaxed, comfortable in the cotton sheets and with the knowledge he didn’t need to get up for at least three more hours.
But he wasn’t. His muscles just wouldn’t unclench, because he knew, any second now:
La Cucaracha, La Cucaracha, La Cucaracha
He groaned and sat up in bed. Cassandra, his “girlfriend” as of the weekend, was sleeping in the room next to his. Sleeping through her phone as it repeatedly blasted a ring tone so old, she must have downloaded it specifically. What kind of person went out of their way to have“La Cucaracha”as their ringtone? Sociopaths probably.
Rowan dragged on the nearest pair of shorts and a T-shirt and stepped out into the hallway, the tiles cool beneath the soles of his feet and the light still dim, making the bare plaster more of a hazy grey than warm cream. He knocked on her door, bypassing gentle rapping and heading straight for irritated, don’t-you-dare-ignore-me banging.
And yet she did. Now she was sleeping through her bloody phone ringingandhim banging on the door. As was Gerrard at the other end of the corridor. He supposed it made sense, since they’d stayed up so late drinking a small vineyard’s worth of wine. He’d been called a party-pooper for wanting to go to bed early, but it hadn’t pooped their party much because he’d still heard them giggling into the early hours of the morning, while he was trying to sleep. Whispering and tiptoeing past his door as quietly as an elephant in tap shoes.
He knew he was biased when it came to drinking but it really did bring out the worst in some people; short-circuited their brain to toddler level, either filled with inane hysteria or temper tantrums and sobbing.
It had also been known to make people choke on their vomit if they’d incapacitated themselves past a reasonable point. Goose bumps rose along his arm.
He banged once more and, when there was no answer, thoughtfuck itand went in. She could scream if she wanted. He’d beat a hasty retreat, safe in the knowledge she was both awake and alive. There might also be the added bonus of her refusing to be anywhere near him and the whole PR charade would be over.
Since Rowan had only met Cassandra a couple of times in passing, he hadn’t really considered how they would get along. The four days he’d spent beneath the same roof as her had confirmed that Gerrard was right – they were polar opposites and the press really were easy to fool. Or wilfully ignorant depending on the stories they wanted to print. Because they had her framed as an innocent, butter-wouldn’t-melt sweetheart…
