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“People are staring,” he says. Of course, they are. I glance around. I may as well be under a spotlight. “We’d better sit down.”
Before I can respond, he disappears back to the table and resumes his seat. Maybe I should leave instead.
As I walk back over, I realise I never told Bryn not to kiss me again. Was that deliberate?
Bryn’s arrival kills the conversation and for a few minutes, everybody drinks and plays with cutlery and glasses. Of course, Taylor is the first to speak.
“You never told me you were involved with a member of Blue Phoenix,” she says. “How long has this been going on?”
“Not long,” I mumble.
“A few weeks,” says Bryn and slings an arm across my shoulders.
I sink under the weight.
“Unlikely pair,” she continues.
“I’m not the only one with an unlikely choice of a man this year,” I retort.
She stiffens. “I mean you’re not the most… outgoing person. How did you even meet him?”
I hold my breath and grapple for a reply and Bryn gives one for me. “We bumped into each other one day, started talking, and the rest is history, as they say.”
“Where?” continues Taylor.
“You’re very nosey,” replies Bryn. “Tell me how you and Martin got together?”
“Oh, I bet you already know,” she says and smiles sweetly. “Avery will have told you.”
“Let’s leave this,” Martin says. “We came for a meal, be nice.”
I’m unaware that I’m jiggling my foot beneath the table until Bryn’s hand closes over my leg. “It’s okay,” he says, against my ear. “We’ll shut her up.”
My brain disconnects momentarily at the sensation of his breath on my skin. Where was I? Oh yeah. I’m now determined to rub her nose in this as hard as she’s attempting to rub in mine.
The group chat about their lives in Pembroke, and Bryn interjects with stories about our marvellous dates together whenever Taylor tries to share something interesting about her and Martin. Apparently, I’ve visited some awesome places recently–exclusive restaurants, country weekends away, even a weekend in Paris. It’s a wonder I’ve had time to study at all.
As usual, the wine flows and the conversations descend into banter and stories from our pasts. As the evening continues, Martin watches me and Bryn more curiously.
“Should we leave soon?” I ask Bryn, because his humour is increasingly edgy as he knocks back the beers he’s ordering.
“Already?” he shuffles closer again. “Oh, I get it—you want me all to yourself, huh?”
“No. I mean, yes. Crap, Bryn, you know what I’m talking about.”
“We’re all headed back to Taylor and Martin’s—you should come,” says Rachel.
The room lurches. “You live together now? That was bloody quick!”
“When you know you’ve met the right person, there’s no messing around,” says Taylor and reinforces this with a gentle kiss to my ex-fiancé.
Tears prick at my eyes. I swore I wouldn’t get upset about this. I’d be mature—but after the twenty-four hours I’ve had, keeping my emotions under control is difficult. Add to that the rock star playing a weird game with me and I’m ready to let go of the bottled emotions. Loudly.
“I guess not,” I say, coldly. “Bryn? Can we go?”
He massages my leg and my skin tingles, before he whispers, “I want to go with them. I don’t think everything is as clear cut as Taylor is making out.”
“What do you mean?”
