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24
AVERY
I leftBryn’s apartment the day after the Great Flood and Underwear Incident, and now reside with a girl from my Lit class. I haven't told Bryn I'm sleeping on her sofa; otherwise, he'd hassle me into staying at his home.
I was unsure about his offer the first time and I don't fancy days of dancing round each other while I pretend Bryn isn't the Adonis of a man he is, while he respects my wishes about keeping sex out of things. If only Bryn knew half the wishes I had about him, not to mention the dreams, he’d try a lot harder.
So, no. I can't live with Bryn, get caught in the heat of a heavy moment, and walk away ashamed. If a man doesn't love me, he doesn't get to take me to bed. That’s my rule. Problem is, every day, Bryn heads closer to being the exception to that rule.
Following the week when we hardly saw each other, this week we’ve caught up every day. When Bryn said he wanted to date me, he wasn’t joking. The ice skating, the night at his home, then random catch-ups the rest of the week. We’ve had a couple of café dates, a meal at the Thai place local to my friend’s house, and even a trip to the movies where Bryn groaned his way through the chick flick and I spent a lot of time keeping his hands off me. Ordinary, non-celebrity dates. This man listens to me, takes on board what I do and don’t want to do, which is weird.
The more time I spend with Bryn, the closer we become and so does the time when he needs to leave on tour. He hasn’t mentioned what will happen after next week, and I don’t want to spoil the illusion by asking. Bryn lives in moments of randomness, his infectious attitude to life rubs off, and I relax.
I’m curious about the girl he mentioned, the one he’s getting over. Sometimes, it’s obvious she’s on his mind, in moments of distracted distance from me. Bryn tells me he’s worrying about the tour, but I occasionally see a confused sadness I don’t understand. In a way, this hurts because I doubt our strange relationship will continue, but in another way, his distance helps because this way I don’t get my hopes up. So, I enjoy the fun and will deal with how I feel when he goes.
This evening, Bryn persuades me to go to Liam’s, back to the celebrity world we’ve avoided. I tug my long brown coat around myself. The main reason I'm here is because I'm calling Liam's bluff. Annoyed I grew tongue-tied around him, I want to show Liam I'm a functioning member of society. Usually. Swallowing down the thought how many famous and therefore probably obnoxious people I might subject myself to tonight, I follow Bryn to the front door of Liam's St John’s Wood home.
The white house is set back from the busy street, unobtrusive security gates set in a high wall matching the house and tall willow trees act as a natural barrier for privacy. Several cars are parked on the driveway, indicating the party may be bigger than I hoped.
Bryn takes my hand and squeezes as we reach the double front doors. “Okay?”
“I feel like I'm about to meet your parents.”
He laughs. “I'm about to introduce you to my second family; I guess you are.”
Cerys opens the door. I instantly relax at her genuine smile. “Hello, Avery. Liam told me about you.”
The relaxation vanishes. What did he say? “Hey, um… nice to meet you.”
Cerys steps back, understatedly gorgeous in her loose black blouse over skinny jeans. At least the party is as informal as Bryn said.
“Go through, there's wine and food in the kitchen.”
I'm unaware how glued to the spot I am until Bryn's hand in the small of my back propels me along the hallway. The smell of baking leads us to the kitchen, where the sound of voices carries from an adjoining room.
I take in the large, farmhouse-style kitchen of pine cupboards interspersed with modern stainless steel furnishings, including a fridge with a child's pictures attached by magnets. Plates of food are laid out on the large kitchen table.
Cerys follows us in. “I’ll take your coats.”
I dutifully hand mine over and she disappears again.
Bryn pours me a glass of white wine from a bottle on the counter and hands it to me as he pushes a miniature spring roll into his mouth with his other hand. “Here. I'm bloody starving!”
“Thanks.” I continue my wide-eyed, village idiot impression.
“You didn't have to come,” he says. “I'm surprised you wanted to.”
“How many people know about me and you?”
“You saw the pictures, several million I think.” As predicted, pictures of my and Bryn's passionate embrace have been shared the world over. Luckily, on the same day, the Kardashians had a new baby, or released a new clothing range, or fresh sex tape, or something—the Blue Phoenix drummer was a momentary blip. Thank God.
“That was your fault, you kissed me,” I protest.
“You started it!”
“I did not!”
Bryn bites his lip. “Ah,cariad, you're too easy to tease sometimes.”
