ONE

Luc 

‘IT WAS JUST a squabble! I can’t believe you haven’t even tried to contact me.’ 

I keep the phone held to my ear, barely registering the voice on the other end.

‘So I thought one of us should be the grown-up here.’ 

I direct the cursor and slowly scroll down the screen. None of these places are right. Maybe I should just get somewhere to rent for now.

‘Luc!’ the voice squawks. 

‘What?’ 

‘Are you even listening?’ 

Not really. ‘Of course.’

‘So how about Friday night? You can take me out for dinner. That new Italian place in town looks good.’ 

Holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder, I type in the postcode for the centre of town, add a radius of one mile and click To Rent. A couple of hundred properties come up as I take the phone in my hand again and narrow down my search options. 

Flats/Apartments.

3 Bed Min.

‘You can pick me up. Eight?’ 

I remove my hand from the laptop and lean back in my chair, sighing. ‘Hayley, I—’ A message pops up on my screen. Harry. Bass guitarist of our band, No Reckless.

Drinks in town?

I reply. Sure. 30mins. 

He instantly pings back. Cool. 

‘I’ll wear that red dress you love so much,’ Hayley is saying on the other end of the line. ‘The one you bought me from Gucci.’ 

I pause. She does look good in that dress. It’s the reason I bought it. Well, that and her pouting. It was going to be a birthday present. A surprise. But then she practically had a fucking meltdown in the middle of the shop. As soon as I relented and handed my credit card to the cashier she was all smiles and sunshine again.

Remembering the way she’d behaved that afternoon—like a spoilt brat—I shake my head at myself and take a controlled breath. ‘Hayley,’ I say firmly, ‘we agreed that this was it. It just doesn’t work. Us, I mean.’ What I really mean is you. You don’t work, Hayley. Emotionally. And literally. When we met she was studying medicine and wanted to be a surgeon. I don’t care that she changed her mind. I wouldn’t have cared if she’d never made any money of her own. But all she cares about now is shopping and how she looks in the latest tabloid photos. 

‘We were just upset, sweetie. We can’t throw away what we’ve got. Besides,’ she lowers her voice, ‘I know you love how tight it is on me.’ 

The dress again. A mental image of the last time she wore it fills my head. The two of us in the back of a cab. Making out. Champagne on her lips. Her hands in my hair. One of mine between her legs, teasing her with my thumb. Her panties oh so wet…

No. This is what she wants. I’m not giving in again. Not this time.

I take a deep breath. ‘Hayley. It’s been two months already. Don’t you think it’s time you stop messaging me and, you know, move on?’ I speak as gently as possible, bracing myself for the sound of sobbing.

But there’s nothing. Just a slightly uncomfortable silence for a few seconds before she finally responds. ‘Luc, I could never move on from you. We’re meant to be together. Everyone says so.’

I look away from the computer screen. ‘“Everyone”?’

‘Yes. Don’t you remember? Back at the beginning of the year they predicted that we’d be engaged before Christmas. And it’s already October.’ 

‘“They”?’ I wrack my memory, trying to remember who would say something so saccharine. 

‘That magazine, or whatever it was. Don’t tell me you can’t remember.’ 

Is she…? She can’t seriously be suggesting that we get engaged.

‘In fact,’ she continues, ‘I’ve been looking at venues and we’re going to need to book somewhere soon because the best places sell out pretty fast.’ 

My chest tightens. I don’t like the direction this conversation is taking. ‘Venues? For what?’

‘The wedding, silly!’ She laughs her mother’s tinkly laugh and it feels like the room is shrinking around me. I can’t quite tell if it’s anger or fear, and I struggle to find the right words. 

‘We can discuss it more on our date this Friday.’ I can hear the smile in her voice. ‘See you then, sweetie. Eight. Love you!’ The line goes dead. 

Frowning at the phone for at least thirty seconds, I try to make sense of what just happened.

We broke up two months ago and now she’s planning our wedding.

‘Damn it,’ I mutter, tossing the phone across the room to the sofa. It bounces softly, landing safely on the cushions as I get myself a bottle of water from the mini bar. 

What I really want is for her to fuck off. Whatever good once existed between us has long since vanished. Resentment and shouting matches. That’s what our relationship has mostly been for the last six months. No. I’m done. We’re done. This is our last break-up. I’m not going back this time.

No matter how good she looks in that dress. 

‘OH MY GOD! No! Is it him?’ 

Yes, it’s me. I zip up my jacket and pull the hood up before lowering my head and picking up the pace, knowing full well that it’s futile. The two girls—early twenties by the looks of them—are already walking briskly in my direction. The bar I’m meeting Harry at is literally right across the street but busy traffic traps me on this side of the road.

With the two blondes closing in on me.

‘Excuse me, are you Luc Hall?’ 

I’m really not in the mood for this. Not right now. Especially after that phone call with Hayley. And I still haven’t sorted out a new place, or even any viewings.

Don’t be shitty to fans, a voice in my head reminds me. 

Fine. I take a deep breath and plaster my best fan-pleasing smile on my face before turning to face them. ‘Yep.’ They’re kind of cute, at least.

‘Oh my God!’ squeals the shorter one. ‘The Luc Hall? No Reckless drummer?’ 

I nod. ‘Uh huh.’

‘I’m Candy, and this is Gemma,’ she says, nodding towards to her slightly taller friend. 

‘Candy?’ I ask. 

‘Short for Candace.’ 

‘Ah.’ 

They beam at me for a moment and I wait for them to continue. Presumably they want my autograph or a photo with me or something, but they say nothing. It’s…awkward.

The traffic has chosen this precise moment to slow down enough for me to cross. Fuckers.

There must be something I can give them.

We have a gig on Thursday.

That’ll do.

‘So is it true you and Hayley have broken up?’ Gemma speaks before I can. 

‘Uh…’ I hesitate for a moment. It’s always jarring when someone you don’t know speaks to you like they know you personally. Like they’re one of your inner circle. It never feels any less invasive. 

Or maybe that’s just me.

‘Where did you hear that?’ I’m not sure why I’m playing dumb. It’s been all over the tabloids.

‘Saw it online. There were photos of you with, I don’t know,’ she screws up her face, ‘like four other women.’ 

Sounds about right. Been making the most of my newly-single status.

‘You’re too good for Hayley anyway. She seems like some dumb airhead.’ 

Whoa, what the fuck? Candy frowns at her friend but Gemma plows on regardless. ‘But, you know, you really shouldn’t be sleeping around like you have been. I mean, four girls in just eight weeks…’ She trails off, raising her eyebrow and shaking her head at me.

She thinks there’s only been four girls. An involuntary smirk forms on my face despite her fucking cheek.

Don’t say anything stupid. She’s a fan.

Right. A clueless, judgemental fan.

The best kind.

I shake my head slightly and inhale slowly. ‘OK, well I’ve got to go. It was nice meeting you.’

Candy glares at her friend, clearly embarrassed by her rudeness. I can’t help feeling a bit bad for her. It’s not her fault her friend is a dick.

‘Actually, before I go, we have a gig on Thursday at Tram House.’ Both girls’ faces light up, clearly expecting some kind of special invite. 

Shame only one of them is getting it.

‘Candy, how would you like to be on the guest list? Free entry, and I’ll get you backstage before the gig so you can meet the rest of the band.’ 

Gemma’s face falls while Candy jumps up and down, squealing. ‘Really? Yes!’

‘Great, just give them your name on the door. See you then,’ I smile, taking advantage of a gap in the traffic to escape across the road. 

THE BAR IS surprisingly dark inside, despite the time of day. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. There aren’t many people here. Nearly all men. Some raucous laughter from the far side of the room catches my attention. It’s Harry. He’s at the bar, sitting on one of the bar stools, flirting with the barmaid and another girl sitting next to him. 

He notices me approaching and grins. ‘Here he is,’ he says to the two women as they follow his gaze in my direction. ‘I’ve already ordered us some drinks.’

I raise an eyebrow.

‘Just water,’ he adds. 

‘Thanks.’ 

He nods to the barmaid who quickly brings us two large glasses of water.

‘Luc, this is Felicity and’—he nods in the direction of the barmaid—‘Clare.’ 

I smile and nod, not really up for more interaction with people I barely know.

‘Girls, I’m sure you recognise our drummer. He’s a bit shy but very popular with our fans.’ 

Shy? Anti-social would be more accurate.

‘Harry said you’ve got a gig on Thursday?’ asks Felicity. 

I gather myself and smile at her. ‘Uh huh. You coming?’

‘Yeah, Harry put us on the guest list,’ she beams. 

Harry makes eye contact with me. He’s keeping his options open. And he’s assessing my mood. Kind of regret inviting Candy backstage now. Stupid fucking knee-jerk reaction.

‘You want to grab a table?’ I ask him. 

‘Sure. If you’ll excuse us,’ he smiles at the girls. I lead us to a dark corner table, away from prying eyes. 

‘Ooh, romantic,’ Harry teases. 

‘Fuck up. Just want some privacy.’ I slide onto the fixed seating and unzip my hoodie. 

‘So. How are things? Found somewhere to live yet?’ Harry says, grabbing a chair. 

‘No. Where are the others?’ 

‘Probably with their girlfriends,’ he says, rolling his eyes. 

I frown. Only one member of our band has a girlfriend. Gethin, the lead guitarist. ‘Jake has a girlfriend?’

‘Yeah, that blonde girl. Don’t you remember Gethin getting pissy with him at my place last week? Or have you managed to literally screw your brains out in the past two months?’ Harry grins. 

I ignore his last comment. Jake is our lead singer and as perpetually single as Harry. ‘Thought he and her were just fucking?’

Harry shakes his head. ‘No way. He just won’t admit it.’

My phone vibrates as I sip my water. I pull it out and there’s a message.

Hayley.

I shake my head and drop it onto the table. Harry doesn’t even have to ask.

‘Still messaging you?’ 

I nod, taking a bigger gulp.

‘You really need to cut her off.’ 

‘I can’t just cut her off. We were together for three years. She’s not just some girl.’ 

‘She’s practically stalking you.’ 

I laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

He raises an eyebrow while picking up his glass. ‘You could move in with me,’ he says after taking a mouthful.

‘What? So you can protect me from my slip of an ex?’ I smirk. 

‘So you have somewhere to live, you jackass.’ 

I sigh. ‘I don’t know, man. I need something more permanent.’

‘It’d be more permanent than the hotels you’ve been using. Cheaper, too. Your kit is already there. And half your fucking clothes,’ he adds. 

My phone vibrates again. We both look at the screen, Hayley’s latest message clearly visible.

Where are you staying? I can’t wait for Friday ;)

Jesus.

‘Seriously?’ Harry says. 

‘It’s nothing.’ 

‘She doesn’t seem to think so.’ 

‘I can handle it.’ 

He doesn’t look convinced.

Oh, what the fuck. ‘And OK. Maybe I’ll crash at yours. Thanks.’

‘Awesome.’