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Ethanworedesigner.Iwore charity shop or boho chic picked up on eBay and street markets. I used environmentally friendly essential oils, while he wore that expensive cologne that was probably going to rewire my DNA, even if it made me want to come on the spot. He was planning on destroying farmlands, whereas I fought to maintain our land’s heritage.
Grr…
I kept berating myself for wanting to fuck him again. His constant texts made that desire worse. Despite the smile his persistent contact brought, I’d decided we were too different. Fiery sex or not, this would never work.
So get out now before my heart gets too invested.
I could have driven to London, but needing to economise, I’d caught the train instead. Dodging crowds, I tugged my suitcase along and made my way to Dalston junction.
A cacophony of car horns, excited voices, and general city noise jolted me out of the sexy reel playing in my head. I kept seeing Ethan’s dark seductive gaze staring deeply into mine while he rode me hard and deep. I was sure I’d caught a glimpse of vulnerability.
Ethan’s rawness was only natural, given his father’s passing. But his unshifting gaze also seemed filled with searching as if he were trying to unravel my soul. I kept pushing those thoughts aside by reminding myself that Ethan was a natural heartbreaker.
Getting accustomed to the city after sleepy Bridesmere always took a moment. In many ways, I was still that country girl who loved roaming through the forest or reflecting on the ocean’s ebb and flow. Nevertheless, the city was as necessary to a musician as the sea to a fisherman. And had I not been distracted by a certain billionaire, I would have bubbled with excitement. A gig at the trendy Green Room wasn’t something to sneer at.
When in London, I always stayed with my cousin at her East London flat. Sheridan was a couple years older than me and worked as a social worker.
When I arrived, I found her on the sofa in her pyjamas, dark rings under her eyes, and sipping tea.
“Hey, Sherry.” I popped down my guitar case. “You look like you’ve had a big night.”
She stretched her arms and yawned. “You could say that. A big work do.”
“Where’s Bret?” I asked after her boyfriend.
“He’s off on one of his primal masculinity weekends.”
I laughed. “Let me guess—a bunch of men beating their chests and hunting wild boar?”
Rising from the couch, she set down her book. “More like a big piss up. Let me get you a tea. You look like you can use one.”
“I’d love one.”
I followed her into the crammed kitchen—an extension of the living room partitioned by a laminated table.
Like me, Sheridan was a little untidy. That’s why my staying there worked. We even looked alike. She had the same thick red hair, freckles, and green eyes as me.
“So you’ve scored a gig at the Green Room.” She whistled. “Things are looking up.”
The butterflies invading my stomach acted as a reminder that I needed to practice. Especially if I wanted to live up to the standard of artists who performed at that trendy venue.
She inclined her face. “Then why are you looking so down? Are you nervous?”
“No. But it’s been a pretty eventful week back home.”
She poured hot water into a cup, and I dropped in a teabag and jiggled it.
We settled on the couch with our hot drinks and biscuits. Outside the window, a parade of hip people bobbed along, dressed in mismatched colours, and oversized, worn clothes—hobo chic, as I called it. The flat sat close to the pavement, so we heard most of the street noise, which made sleeping tricky on weekends. When the pubs closed, people spilt noisily into the streets, singing, yelling, or fighting against a backdrop of police sirens.
“What’s been happening, then?” She turned to face me.
“Ethan Lovechilde happened.”
When we were growing up, Sheridan spent her summers on our farm. As a teenager, she would turn all giggly and silly whenever we crossed paths with the tall brothers like they belonged to a sexy boy band.
Her jaw dropped. “You finally hooked up with that dishy brother?”
I rolled my eyes. Why was that such a foregone conclusion? Had I made my guilty crush that obvious? I was meant to hate him.
