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12
BRYN
I settlein front of my Xbox with a tray of pizza and a beer from my well-stocked fridge. Mia appears in a designer scrap of cloth, face transformed by make-up, looking five years older, and a completely different person. When Mia puts make-up on, it's an hour-long work of art with shading and sculpting and painting.
Mia looks at me with tired exasperation as she pushes a large silver earring through her ear. “You're staying here?”
“Yes.” I crack the lid from a bottle. “Nothing else to do.”
“Nothing else to do? How many New Year’s invites did you get?”
“A few.” Usually I go wherever the band goes. Recently, this has been Dylan's place, but he's away. As are Liam and Cerys, who are on honeymoon, and Jem disappeared with Ruby somewhere too.
Leaving me with Mia as an option.
No thanks.
“Who are you going with?” I ask Mia.
“Nobody.”
I frown. “No date? Mia Jordan never goes to parties without a date.”
She suddenly focuses hard on searching for something in the chaos of my lounge room. “Mia?”
“I saidyouwere coming with me,” she tells the carpet.
“What? Do you not listen to me? Your selective deafness is starting to piss me off.”
When I arrived back after Christmas, my house still contained Mia—so much for her promise she’d find somewhere else to live by the time I returned from Wales.
“I kind of hoped you would, you know, keep an eye on me.” Mia gives me one of her beguiling smiles that she's perfected after years of using on her dad.
Is Mia an airhead or a mastermind? Whatever, her persistence matches rat dog's grip on my sleeve whenever he gets his teeth locked on. Won't work. “I'm not your baby-sitter or your boyfriend. Go out, have fun, and be careful.”
“On my own,” she mutters.
“I'm pretty sure you won't be on your own for long. Have a great time.”
I turn back to my game and grab a slice of Hawaiian pizza, stuffing it in my mouth to demonstrate conversation over. I half-toyed with the idea of staying in Wales for New Year too, but after a few days with a house full of sisters and assorted offspring and I'm relieved to get back to London.
Mia bangs around, feeds rat dog, and then leaves in a cloud of expensive perfume. Thank Christ for that, maybe she's learning not to nag me.
Rat dog sits on the armchair opposite me and we eye each other with the usual distrust. It growls at me and I growl back. Stupid bloody creature.
Lost in my beer-soaked, gaming world, I lose the evening. On my trip to the fridge, I glance at the time. Approaching midnight. Should I call Hannah, wish her a Happy New Year? Show her there’s no hard feelings even though there bloody are. Picking up the phone, I dial. A recorded message with an Australian accent informs me the number is out of service.
I pull up my email account on the laptop and send Hannah a message, a bland 'Happy New Year', no comments or connotations. Five minutes later, the email has bounced back.
My mind reels. I'd clung onto the idea Hannah would change her mind, but now she's pushed me further away. I put down the beer, untouched. I never hassled her, so why cut me off completely?
I guess one of us has to make the final break.
New Year’s Resolutions aren't my thing, but this year I'm starting a life with Bryn at the top of my priorities. There's no point hanging onto the last few years. Not only my idiotic belief Hannah would spend her life with me, but the band. Musically, yeah, things don't change, but everything else has.
I'm sick of holding the guys together when they fall apart, all in the name of keeping Blue Phoenix going. I need a life outside the band. I'm not going to 'do a Dylan'; he was really fucked up, but this year is about a new balance. The rest of the guys are moving forward and so can I.
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