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“I think the Ladies is that way,” says Bryn and points to an illuminated sign across the bar area.
“Right.”
“Do you need some help?”
“No!”
He raises his hands in defence. “Okay, just being a gentleman.”
“I doubt that’s in your rock star job description.”
“You don’t know me,” he says. “I am respectful of women. I’m a nice guy.”
I’m drunk, clearly, and Bryn’s increasing number of weird statements suggests he’s not far behind.
“I’m sure you are. Excuse me.”
Halfway across the short distance, I slump onto another chair. Nope. Not happening. I lean forward and stare at my shoes calculating how much I’ve had. The wine at the restaurant, whatever the hell was in the cocktails, all on top of carbonara. No wonder my stomach is complaining.
A pair of black shoes appears in my line of vision and my eyes travel up the long, muscular legs across his expansive chest and to his concerned face. Crap, this man is hot and with my brain in neutral, my body takes charge.
“Do you need some assistance?” he asks.
“Maybe,” I mumble.
As he takes my arm and helps me up, the girls who I’m now closer to giggle and whisper. I attempt to put my arm around Bryn’s waist, but he’s too broad so rest my head against him instead. I bury my nose into his T-shirt. Is this what rock stars smell like? Sandalwood with a hint of sex? I’d giggle too,but I don’t want to open my mouth.
“Ah,cariad,” he says and grabs me as my legs buckle.
“Don’t call me that.”
Bryn drags me to my feet and half-pulls me towards the bar entrance.
“Bathrooms,” I mumble.
“Not on your own. You might collapse and hit your head, or some shit like that.” He hitches me upright for the fourth time. “I’ve been told I have a feminine side but I don’t think I’ll pass as one to get into the bathrooms.”
“I feel sick.”
We pause by a wall on the edge of the lobby and I slide to the cool floor. “Crap, I’m sorry. I should’ve thought. Someone like you shouldn’t drink this much,” he says.
“Someone like me?”Don’t be sick. Don’t be sick.
“Your size. I got carried away. I’m having a shit time too.”
“Mmm.” The floor appears the safest place for my head and that’s where it’s going. “Cause I’m so small and cute…”
* * *
BRYN
When I saidI wanted girls falling at my feet, this isn't what I meant. Avery lies on the floor, cheek against the tiles with her mouth parted, semi-conscious.
Great.
I glance around but we're alone in the tiled lobby, close to the elevator doors. What the fuck do I do? Experience tells me there's CCTV in the elevator; if I'm seen hauling an unconscious girl up to my room, an arrest warrant won't be far away.
“Avery!” I crouch down and attempt to pull Avery upright, hitching her up with my arms beneath hers. She mumbles and slumps back to the floor.
