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Mia's moving? And she has other 'options'?
Thank fuck for that.
Problem is I’m left with a dilemma. Who do I take? Or do I cancel?
This is a bloody big party and one I can't say no to attending. Yvonne was friends with Trudy, and is head of Blue Phoenix’s current PR company. She's carefully constructed her guest list and wants representatives of all her clients. The other guys aren't around and she calls me every day to check I'm still going. Surely, she has enough soap opera and reality TV stars on her books to replace me if I don’t.
There is somebody I can ask; someone who'd make the evening easier. To be honest, this is the excuse I've been waiting for.
Avery.
Every time Hannah invades my mind, I push her out with images of my night with the funny girl from Wales. To begin with, I toy with asking to see Avery again because we never had sex and I still want to—the chemistry between us beneath the banter aroused me a hell of a lot. Then memories of our time alone enter; drunken conversation, the way she reacted to my humour, and how comfortable I felt around a girl I only knew a night. There's a strong sense something was cut short before it began. Wouldn't it make more sense to fill the hole inside with another girl rather than my bed with girls for empty sex?
I tour at the end of the month. There's time to reconnect and see how things play out with Avery. Maybe we're not matched on any other level than the spark between us. Why not kindle that for a few weeks and have some fun?
I scroll through my recent calls and find the number from 12.05 a.m. on New Year’s Day, recalling the amusing call from Avery. I smile to myself, anticipating Avery's reaction as I dial.
“Hello?”
“Morning,cariad.”
A long silence follows before Avery hoarsely replies, “Bryn?”
“Sure is. How are you?”
“Fine.” I can barely hear and she clears her throat. “You?”
“Bored. Do you want to go on a date with a hot rock star?”
“Um.”
“Um?”
Another long silence. I tap the table; surely, my star status isn't that big of a deal? “Avery?”
“Sorry, I wasn't expecting a hot rock star to call me when I woke up this morning. I don't know what to say.”
I poke at papers on the table. “Yes? Like I said when you stalked me the other week, if I'd known you lived in London, I'd have asked you on another date.”
“Stalked you? I did not…” She pauses. “Funny. Another date? I don't think our first counted as a date.”
“Really? Well you ended up in my bed.” Silence. “I want to see you again.”
“Okay…”
“You sound doubtful? I've had a shit Christmas and New Year; you were the best part. I had fun.” I lower my voice. “We could have more fun.”
Another pause. I hate phone conversations and not being able to read people's faces and my humour obviously doesn’t translate on the phone. “I don't know. This is weird.”
“I have a proposition for you. Well, a favour.”
“What favour?” she asks in a guarded tone.
“There's this party tonight and I want you to come with me.”
“Party? Tonight?” she squeaks.
“Small celebrity thing and I don't want to go on my own.”
