The Day After Tomorrow
Clare
Bugger me, it was hot in my bedroom.
I woke up sweating and wondering if Mum had left the central heating on all night again. She did that sometimes. She said it was by accident; funny that it always seemed to happen on really cold nights.
But it wasn’t the radiator in my small bedroom that was making me hot—it was the man lying next to me. Definitely hot.
One arm was thrown behind his head, and the other was draped around my shoulder. My face was squished up against his fab-u-lous chest and I probably looked like Miss Piggy. His eyes were closed, the lids trembling, and I thought he was dreaming. I was pretty certain I was, too. The sheet was pushed down to his hips, and his chest and stomach rose rhythmically. I could practically count every muscle of his abs. I could write poetry about them. I lay there composing my ode while the soft breaths ebbed and flowed through his beautiful, flawless body.
Ode to an Abdominal Oblique
Thou newly ravish’d groom of stillness
Thou descending stone-like sternum,
Child of Nazi Hilda.
A vivid valley between moreish mounds.
The faultless form of your Pectoralis,
Crowned with rosy buds.
A golden trail of happiness
Leading to the Promised Land.
Such wild ecstasy.
And the memories flooded back. His touch, his kiss, his arms around me.
And the sex!
I mean, I was an English literature student and you’d really think I could have come up with a better word than ‘wow’. But right there and then, ‘wow’ covered a lot of ground.
After that amazing first time, and the horrible awkwardness that had followed, we’d made love again and again.
We’d even been, um, busy when Mum and Dad got back and slammed the front door. Okay, so I was 21 and had been having sex for more years than my parents would like to believe, but that didn’t mean to say I wanted them to interruptus the coitus. Boy, it had been soooo hard to keep quiet. In the end, Miles stuck his tongue in my mouth just to shut me up. Well, it may not have been the only reason, but it worked just as well.
And now, lying here next to him with the cool morning light edging between the curtains, I felt a deep sense of peace. And excitement. Peace, because we’d finally said everything we needed to say to each other. Oddly enough, it was a short conversation.
It went like this.
“I’ve loved you forever, you twerp!” I said.
Miles blinked at me. “Yeah, me, too.”
I shook my head. “No, I mean I’ve r-e-a-l-l-y loved you—like forever!”
Miles looked annoyed. “Well, why the hell didn’t you tell me?!”
“Oops.”
He rolled his eyes. “No more ‘oops’, okay?”
“Okay.”
So, yeah, that had been a bit of an ‘oops’ moment. (I really was going to have to get some better vocabulary after the holidays were over, and I was back studying.)
I admitted that I’d always loved him. He admitted that he had no clue, but that I’d always been his best friend, and he’d always compared other women to me.
He told me a little bit about what the evil witch had said to him last night, but refused to give details on the grounds that he couldn’t think about her while he was lying between my naked thighs. Sigh.
And did I mention excitement? Because we were finally together, and he said he didn’t want it to end once he went back to LA.
He said he’d wait for me, until I finished my degree in five months time. And then I’d go out to join him in Kalifornication. God, I couldn’t wait.
We’d talked in whispers most of the night, and made love again and again. Wow—stamina! I really should send a thank you note to Hilda. Although, maybe not. She seemed like the stalker type.
But wow! I hadn’t had that much sex in, blimey, ever. Ever, ever, ever!
Unfortunately, I was now desperate to pee. And from the way my flora and fauna was feeling down under, I was afraid that all the sexing was going to give me cystitis.
I suddenly realized his eyes had opened and he was watching me.
“Hi!” I said, my voice unnaturally high.
A slow, sexy smile spread across his face, and he brushed his hand down my arm.
“Clare.”
The way he spoke my name—like the answer to a question, like a promise.
A shuddering breath left my body, and he grinned at me. I watched, my eyes about to dribble out of my head, as his big top rose down below, ready for the greatest show on earth.
And then I heard it.
Footsteps in the hall, and Mum yelling up the stairs. “Clare! Are you coming down for breakfast? I’m making bacon sandwiches!”
Miles groaned. “I love your mum’s bacon sandwiches.”
“Huh. More than you love me?”
“It’s about 50/50 at the moment.”
“Sod off.”
He laughed, and his eyes crinkled happily.
But now that I thought about it, this could be a tad awkward. You know, the whole Mum-and-Dad-don’t-know-I-have-a-fuck-hot-guy-in-my-bed-and-might-actually-think-I’m-still-a-virgin. Yeah, that sort of awkward.
“I guess we’d better get dressed then,” said Miles, trying to hide a smile. “Go and face the music.”
“Easy for you to say. My mum loves you. In fact I think she probably loves you more than she loves me.”
He planted a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Yeah, probably, but your dad is going to have my balls.”
“No way! I need those! The only person who’s having your balls is me.”
“So, what do you want me to do? Climb out of the window? Live in your attic? Pretend I’ve got amnesia? Hope they have amnesia?”
“Are there any other options?” I asked, chewing on a broken fingernail.
“I could just come down and say hi,” he suggested.
“I don’t know. That sounds complicated. Do you think it will work?”
He smirked at me. “One way to find out.”
I sighed heavily. “Okay, but if my dad kills you, I’m going to be really pissed off.”
“Just pissed off? Not wildly heartbroken? Not utterly bereft and going bonkers in a Mrs. Rochester sort of way.”
“Don’t push your luck, Stephens.”
“Can I push something else?” he said, rocking his hips against me.
“That is such a cheesy line! I can’t believe you said that!”
“Is that a no?” he asked, a wicked grin on his face.
“Yes. That’s a no. Maybe later.”
“Only maybe? Did I tell you I have a Jacuzzi in my hotel room?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, if my dad doesn’t kill you, I wouldn’t be averse to shagging your brains out in a Jacuzzi. Does it have jets?”
He laughed quietly and his eyes softened.
“God, I love you,” he said.
There was really only one comeback to that.
“I love you, too.”
I found my pajamas which had somehow ended up under the bed, pulled them on and tramped off to the bathroom, leaving Miles to follow me if it seemed safe.
The bathroom mirror hated me.
When I saw myself, I nearly passed out from shock. Not only did I have horrendous sex hair (small print: bird’s nest), my face was far too flushed to look normal, and I had a small bite mark on the top of my left breast. Yeah, well my parents definitely wouldn’t be seeing that. Even though it meant I’d have to fasten my pajama top up to my neckline and risk looking like my Great Aunt Sally.
I dragged a brush through my hair, had a very satisfying pee, flushed the loo, washed my hands, and wondered if I could smuggle Miles out in the laundry basket.
Hmm. Probably not.
He was quite big.
Swoon.
I made my way down to the kitchen. Dad was reading the Sunday papers, and Mum was making the aforementioned bacon sandwiches.
“Hello, love. Did you have a good time last night?”
Oooh. There were so many ways to answer that question. None of which my mum would want to hear.
“Yeah, it was good. How was your party?”
“Oh, same old faces—it was all right. But I want to hear all about the premiere. How was Miles?”
At that moment, the upstairs toilet flushed again.
Dad looked up, a frown on his face.
Mum looked at me, a frown on her face.
I looked at the floor. Wow. How come I’d never noticed how fascinating our kitchen floor was before?
“Clare?”
“Um, yeah?”
“Is there somebody up there?”
“Technically … yes.”
Mum narrowed her eyes. “Have you got a man up there? A yes or no answer will do.”
“Um, yes?”
Then Miles poked his head around the door, a huge smile on his face.
“Morning, Sheila. Morning, Graham.”
God, he looked edible. He was wearing the tux and white shirt, and his bow tie was hanging out of his pocket. Forget the bacon sandwiches—I wanted to eat him.
“Morning, Miles,” said Mum, faintly. “Bacon sandwich?”
“Oh, brilliant! Thanks, Sheila. I’ve missed your bacon sandwiches. I haven’t had anything like that in forever.”
He sat at the table, just like he had so many times before, except this time he picked up my hand from my lap and kissed my fingers. In front of Mum and Dad!
My face exploded with color, and Mum dropped the frying pan back onto the cooker with a loud clang.
“Hey, baby,” he said to me. “You look beautiful this morning.”
Dad choked on his tea. We all knew I looked like the back of a bus that had broken down. I prayed that Miles would never lose his rose-tinted glasses. They suited him so well.
Unsurprisingly, we ate in silence after that. Well, the three members of the Milton household did. Miles chatted away, asking questions about mutual friends, and catching up on all the local gossip. As much as was possible, given our single syllable answers.
At the end of the meal, Dad stood up and cleared his throat.
“I’d like to have a word with you, please, Miles,” he said. “If you’d like to come through to my study.”
“Dad! You haven’t got a study!” I snapped. “It’s the garden shed—and it’ll be freezing!”
He ignored me with a dignified silence. Miles grinned and winked, then leaned down to kiss me.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he whispered. “I’ll tell him that my intentions are strictly honorable … even if they aren’t.”
And then he followed Dad into our tiny back garden.
“Well!” said Mum.
“Yeah,” I said, chewing on yet another fingernail.
“So, you and Miles?”
“Yeah.”
“At last.”
“Yeah.”
She smiled. “How does it feel?”
I closed my eyes. “Wonderful.”
She leaned over and gave me a hug.
“I’m so happy for you both.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
Dad and Miles didn’t stay in the shed very long. Well, it was December. But I think they’d been at the sherry, because Dad was swaying slightly as he walked back up the garden path.
When I finally got Miles alone, he told me that the conversation had been okay.
Just okay?! It made me crazy that he wouldn’t tell me what had been said!
Miles
Waking up with Clare was the best fucking way to start the day. I wanted every day to start like that from now on.
Last night had been one hell of an emotional rollercoaster—actually dodgems would be a better metaphor. Bloody Lilia had nearly trashed the whole evening, but the ending was better than I could ever have imagined.
Clare. My best friend, my best girl. My girlfriend. It was kind of hard to get my head around the idea, but damn, it made me happy.
And the sex!
Jeez, what I’d been missing out on all these years! Just thinking about that made me a bit crazy. Hot, wet, tight; all soft curves and silky skin; flesh a man could sink his fingers into—or his teeth. So passionate. I felt like my lungs weren’t big enough to breathe her in, and my heart couldn’t beat fast enough to love her the way I wanted to.
I couldn’t get enough of her.
I hoped she’d forgive me for behaving like such a fucking animal all night, but seriously—I could not get enough of this woman.
How had I been so blind? All this time, my dream woman had been right in front of me and I hadn’t seen it.
I blamed her.
I’d always thought she wasn’t interested in me. She was forever laughing at me, for one thing, and she was so smart—book smart and street smart—so I’d always figured she’d end up with some brainy guy from her university, someone who was as clever as her. I never thought she’d settle for me. Damn, I was happy that her standards were crashing.
Now, it was my job to make sure I did my best to live up to what a woman like her deserved. To try and deserve her. Because I sure as hell hadn’t earned her.
I wasn’t entirely certain how I was going to keep Miles Junior in check around her either. And seeing her cum! I’d never seen anything so fucking hot in my entire life. And I’d watched a lot of porn. Well, Jim the Unwashed, the guy that I used to share a house with, he’d insisted we got cable just so he could have access to porn 24 hours a day. But a real flesh and blood woman—there was no comparison.
And now I could close my eyes and have my own private porn show running in my head whenever I wanted it. Yeah, probably best not to do that around her parents. I mean, they liked me well enough, but no father wants to think that some guy is getting it on with his little girl, right?
It was hilarious seeing Clare so flustered this morning. For a moment, I really thought she was going to have me shinning down the drainpipe or something, just so I could avoid her parents. I’d stayed at her place hundreds of times—true, most times it was on the couch—but a couple of times we’d ended up in bed together, even though nothing had ever happened. It pissed me off to think about all the lost opportunities.
I let her go ahead, so she could break the happy news to Sheila and Graham that she’d been shagging the next door neighbor, but from the look on their faces when I walked into the kitchen, I realized that she’d left out that detail.
I could tell that Sheila was okay about it, but Graham wasn’t quite sure what to think. I guess he thought he needed to have ‘the talk’ with me, because after I’d eaten three of the most fuck-tastic bacon sandwiches ever, he took me aside for a ‘man to man’ conversation.
I didn’t know what to expect, but I wasn’t too worried either. I could run pretty fast.
It was fucking freezing outside, and his shed was no barrier against frost.
We sat on a couple of old deckchairs, and he poured me a glass of sweet sherry. God, I hated that stuff.
“So, Miles,” he said. “It’s good to see you again, son.”
“Thanks, Graham.”
We both took a sip of that God-awful syrup, and I felt my tongue disintegrate from the contact. Damn. I’d had plans for that. Licking Clare’s soft, round stomach; licking her warm thighs; licking her full breasts and … oh, shit. This was getting awkward.
I shifted around on the deckchair trying to get comfortable. It was a losing battle.
“Ahem.”
My head snapped up as Graham cleared his throat.
“I want to know what your intentions are toward my daughter, to our Clare.”
I squared my shoulders and looked him in the eye.
“I love her, Graham. I want to marry her. I just haven’t told her. Well, I’ve told her I love her—I haven’t asked her to marry me—yet. But I will.”
“I see. Right. Well…”
There was a long pause while I waited for the axe to fall, to be told that I wasn’t good enough for his daughter. I wouldn’t have disagreed.
“So,” he said at last, “what do you think about Tottenham’s chances against Manchester United?”
We didn’t stay outside, I mean, in the shed, much longer after that, thank fuck. I was freezing my balls off in there, and I was pretty sure I’d need them later. In fact, I was hoping that Clare had plans for my balls. Wow, that sounds really bad, but you know what I mean.
Yeah, it’s probably not cool to be thinking about shagging a man’s daughter while you’re sitting in his shed drinking his sherry.
Graham popped a breath mint before we went back in. Sheila probably didn’t approve of sherry at that time of the day. It was so fucking disgusting, I didn’t approve of it either, whatever time it was.
Actually, I had no clue whether it was still morning or afternoon already. Not that I cared much either. My only plan for the day was to make up for lost time. With Clare.
When we got back to the kitchen, Clare was waiting for me with a tense expression on her face. I don’t know what she thought Graham was going to do to me—maybe hit me with a shovel and bury me in the back garden. She looked relieved when I walked in and sat next to her.
“Wow, your hands are freezing!” she said, as I touched her fingers.
“Yeah. December. Shed. But I can think of a few ways that you can warm me up…”
She blinked a couple of times and then gave this sweet, shy little smile. It was so un-Clare, but I liked it.
“Can you?”
“Yeah.”
“Um, okay. But I thought you had that interview thing to do.”
Shit. She was right. I’d forgotten about that. Melody would have my ass, and not in a good way.
“Crap! What time is it?”
“Just after 12.”
“Damn. I have to go. I told Mum I’d see her this morning as well.”
Clare’s face fell.
“But we still have a date for the Jacuzzi, right?” I said, praying she hadn’t changed her mind.
Her smile made my cock sigh with anticipation.
“Yeah, sure. What time will you be finished?”
“About four, I think. Come by after then? Room 607.”
“Okay. Have fun.”
I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. She knew I’d rather chew my foot off up to my elbow than sit and talk about myself for two hours.
The only person I wanted to spend time with was her.
“And, ah, stay the night with me, please, baby?”
“At the Dorchester?”
“Yeah. Please?”
“Wild horses doing a clog dance couldn’t stop me.”
She stood up to say goodbye to me, and a quick peck on the cheek turned into something much, much hotter. I barely heard Sheila’s embarrassed cough, but then Clare was pushing me away.
“I’ll see you later,” she whispered.
I didn’t think any paps were watching the house, but I went out through the backdoor just in case.
Mum was standing at the sink. Yeah, and smoking a cigarette! Busted!
I tapped on the door and she jumped. I couldn’t help laughing as I saw her stub the butt out and wave her hands around, trying to dispel the smoke. Believe me when I say that doesn’t work—I tried that shit when I was 15 and I didn’t get away with it then.
She unbolted the backdoor, a guilty expression on her face.
“Mum! You were smoking!” I said in an accusing voice, looking sternly at her.
“It was just one,” she said. “It’s been a stressful few days.”
“You nearly killed me when you caught me smoking!”
“You were 15—and it’s a horrible habit to start. Besides, I’m your mother. Come here and give me a hug.”
“I don’t know, Mum, you smell all smoky.”
She slapped my arm. “Don’t be cheeky!”
I laughed and she pulled me into a real bone crusher.
“I was so proud of you last night,” she said, into my chest. “So proud. Not just the film, but the way you looked after that awful girl, too.”
She looked up at me, and I felt my lungs tighten at the mention of Lilia.
“I know, love, I do. Believe me, but it was the right thing to do.” There was a pause as she looked me up and down. “I take it you’ve come from next door.”
I nodded.
“From Clare?”
I couldn’t help grinning when she gave an excited squeak.
“Really? You and Clare?”
“Yeah. I know it’s weird and…”
“Rubbish!” she snorted. “The only weird thing is that it’s taken you two all this time to work it out.”
I wasn’t quite sure what to say to that.
“You’re happy.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah, really happy. She’s just…”
I didn’t know what words to use to describe Clare or how I felt about her. My admiration for scriptwriters grew by the second—they always knew what to say.
I stayed for a quick coffee, and Mum filled me in on what the lawyers had said about a likely moving date to her new house.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to get back for that, Mum. There’s a whole load of publicity stuff I’m contracted to do. I mean, maybe, but…”
“Don’t worry, love. I don’t expect you to. Sheila and Graham have already offered to help. So has Clare. I’ll be fine.”
That made me feel worse. Not that they were helping, but they were doing what I should be there to do.
Yeah, I was a lucky bastard in so many ways, but some things—like missing your mum’s big day—that sucked.
I got a few odd looks as I walked to the tube station. Probably the fact that I was still wearing my tux, or maybe the fact that I didn’t have a coat. Or it could have been because there was a bloody great nine foot high poster advertising Dazzled at the station’s entrance. It still felt strange. It didn’t feel like the guy in that photograph was me.
The train was crowded with people standing, but not really busy like it could get—not so close that you had your back shoved against somebody’s rancid armpit. Trust me, for the London underground in summer, you need a biohazard suit.
My mind drifted back to Clare, and I knew I had this huge, goofy smile on my face. I couldn’t help it.
Then I saw the newspaper that the guy standing next to me was reading. The front page had a photograph of the crowd at the premiere and close-ups of people yelling at Lilia. It looked bad in the stills photograph; it had been a helluva lot worse to be there. The headline said, ‘Angel to Devil—Lilia Under Fire’.
The guy flipped the page over, and inside there was a strip of photographs showing the whole event, moment by moment, shot by shot. This time the headline had my name in it: ‘White Knight Miles Better’.
Fun-nee.
The guy probably felt me reading the paper over his shoulder because he glanced up, an irritated expression on his face. Then his eyes crossed and he did this comic double take. I knew I had about two seconds before he said something. Thank God the train was pulling into the station at Hyde Park Corner.
I pushed my way to the doors and had just managed to jump off when I heard him call out, “Hey, man!”
Too slow, sucker.
The winter afternoon sun felt bright compared to the gloom of the underground station, and I walked briskly through the park, my breath weaving like smoke through the winter air. Jeez, it was cold. I’d gotten, um, become so used to LA weather, I’d forgotten that London in December was cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. I shoved my hands in my pockets and picked up the pace, then risked life and limb crossing the busy road in front of the hotel…
…And walked straight into an ambush of photographers.
“It’s him! Miles! Miles! Over here!” Bloody hell!
“Are you and Lilia together again?” Fuck, no!
“Are you in love with Lilia?” NO!
“Is it true she’s pregnant?” What the fuck?
“How do you like London?” Seriously?
“Have you forgiven her, Miles?” Fuck off.
“How does it feel to be a hero?” Arsehole.
“When are you filming the sequel?” Who gives a flying fuck?
“What do you think of British girls, Miles?” Tosser.
“Have you been with Lilia? Did you spend the night?” Mind your own fucking business.
“Where were you last night?” Sod off.
“What do you think of the new Prime Minister of Australia?” What?!
Fucking hell!
I put my head down and tried to get through without punching anyone, as they pushed their cameras right into my face. Some of them were deliberately shoving into me and trying to get a rise. Pictures like that would have been worth a lot more.
The doorman tried to clear the entrance with one arm and create a space with the other as I inched toward him.
Finally, I fell into the lobby, breathing hard, and feeling like I’d been mugged.
The door swung shut behind me, but I could still hear the calls and yells, softened by the barrier of glass.
“Are you all right, sir?” the doorman asked, looking genuinely concerned.
“Shit! That was … thanks, mate. I mean it, thank you.”
He gave a small smile. “That’s quite all right, sir. Just doing my job.”
I was definitely making sure he had a fucking fantastic after-Christmas bonus.
As my heart rate started to return to something like normal, I realized that everyone in the lobby was staring at me, although several discreetly turned away when I caught their gaze.
Then I saw Melody walking toward me—she didn’t look happy. She jerked her head quickly and took my elbow, steering me behind a pillar and into a small alcove furnished with a plush settee and an aspidistra.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck to relieve some of the tension. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”
“Well, yes,” and she paused. “Have you seen the papers? You’ve made quite an impression: hence the welcoming committee.”
I threw her an irritated glance.
“You weren’t answering your phone,” she said, a slight note of accusation in her voice.
“I left it in my room before the premiere.”
I’d answered automatically before it occurred to me how much information I’d just given her, bearing in mind I was still dressed in last night’s clothes.
“I see,” she said shortly, glancing up and down at my wrinkled tux. “Well, your interview will be in the Park Suite Right, ground floor. One hour. They’ve been told not to ask about your private life or who you’re dating, but you’d better be prepared to talk about last night. We need to rehearse.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure. Just give me 20 minutes.”
She nodded. “Twenty minutes. And Miles … wear a clean shirt.”
Her mouth hinted at the ghost of a smile, and I grinned back at her.
“Yeah, that I can do.”
The shower was just what I needed to calm down, but it would have been a thousand times better if Clare had been there, too.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The more time that passed, the more dreamlike the whole night seemed. A small pinch of concern made my heart rate spike. I hoped like hell she wasn’t going to change her mind once she’d had time to think about it. I wouldn’t blame her if she did.
I resented having to do another round of goddamn interviews, but I reminded myself it was part of the job, and beat being unemployed and living off baked beans and instant soup. Something I remembered all too well.
Even so, I didn’t bother shaving but in deference to Melody, I dug out a clean shirt, as instructed, and found a pair of jeans that seemed presentable. Anyway, they’d be filming me above the waist—I could have worn lederhosen and no one would notice. Well, the interviewers might.
I’d just run some gel through my hair when Melody knocked on my door. And, God bless her, she’d brought room service with her and a cafetiere of coffee.
“I thought you’d need it and I damn well know I do,” she said.
“Have I told you how bloody wonderful you are?”
She smiled. “No, but I’ll remind you on my next invoice.”
Melody went through the list of probable questions based on the topics provided for the interviewers. Then she helped me prepare answers and, finally, escorted me to the room where the interviews were being held. Hell, maybe she was even going to sit there and hold my hand, or get ready to hoick my foot out of my mouth, should the need arise. She probably sensed that my personal safety catch was on the verge of being released, and she didn’t know whether or not my trigger finger was getting twitchy.
Cameras, lights and recording equipment were already in place, and the first interviewer was touching up her lipstick when we walked in. She gave me a killer smile and licked her lips.
Shit.
It was going to be a long afternoon.
Clare
As soon as Miles left, I went back to bed and slept for three hours. I was knackered, exhausted, worn out, used up, fatigued, tuckered out and just plain tired.
But looking on the positive side, my vocabulary was in better shape.
Frankly, if I was going to be having sex with Miles on a regular basis, (and I couldn’t help looking around for a black cat so it could accidentally on purpose run across my path), I was going to have to do something about my level of fitness. Not that I had a level. A couple of basements, perhaps.
I mean, I’d been flat on my back most of the night, although not the entire time, but I was still weary beyond words. Miles, on the other hand, looked like he’d just had eight hours of uninterrupted beauty sleep when he walked into my parents’ kitchen.
But you know—so what if I was five foot nothing and weighed 140 pounds? Miles was beautiful enough for both of us.
He could have had a supermodel. Hell, he probably had had a couple of supermodels—maybe at the same time. But he’d chosen me—and after waiting all these years, I was not letting him go. If the world ended tomorrow, they’d have to pry me off him with a grappling hook.
Hmm. Grappling with Miles.
Yeah, sorry. Hard to stay on track.
The point was, he was mine.
Of course, that wasn’t what the newspapers were saying. Most of them were carrying front page pictures of Miles charging into the crowd to save Lilia, and they’d all leapfrogged to the same conclusion.
The online accounts were even more fanciful.
“A source close to the couple said, ‘They’re in a really good place right now. He’s forgiven Lilia, and they’re more in love than ever before’.”
Ugh. Vomit.
What ‘source’? How did they make up this crap and keep a straight face? It was such bollocks! Sheer fabrication, because nobody knew the truth except me and Miles. Oh, and Mum and Dad. Probably Prue, too. But that was all. Oh, and Lilia—she knew how he really felt.
But then I saw something that made my stomach drop into my shoes, by way of my bed socks.
“They’re really looking forward to working together again on the sequel to ‘Dazzled’. They met making the first film, and that was a very special time for them. They’re hoping that they’ll rekindle their magic on set.”
A sequel?! That was the first I’d heard of it. Miles hadn’t mentioned a sequel. Why the hell hadn’t he said anything about that to me? How could he face working with that cheating chav again?
I tried not to stay angry, but I was upset.
I was the last to know, and that hurt.
Miles
It was nearly four o’clock and I’d had enough of talking. Besides, the questions were all the same:
“How did you enjoy the premiere?”
“What made you walk into the crowd like that?”
“What do you think of your fans now?”
“How’s Lilia this morning?”
“What will it be like working on the sequel with her?”
“What else are you working on?”
The answers were all the same, too…
Good.
It seemed the right thing to do.
Great.
Fine, I think.
A sequel hasn’t been confirmed.
Nothing definite.
…but with a lot more smiling, and a few dumb jokes like they expected from me.
I’d done so many of these short interviews now that I was practically on autopilot.
But the last question of the day threw me.
“So, Miles, I hear you’re getting married. What can you tell me about that?”
How the fuck did she know? I hadn’t even asked Clare yet?
She must have seen the shock on my face, and the bint smiled, pleased with herself.
And then I realized that she hadn’t got a clue about Clare—the stupid bitch was trying to get some shock value out of her pathetic question.
“I think that’s enough questions for today,” Melody said, quickly.
I appreciated her help, but I was putting the fucking lid on that line of questioning.
“No, I’d like to answer that one,” I interrupted.
The interviewer looked like she was having an orgasm.
“I don’t know where you heard that, Carmel,” I said, my voice controlled and level, “but it’s completely wrong. I’m not even dating anyone at the moment. Anyone.”
She looked faintly disappointed and then a look of calculation followed it.
“Well, that was a great interview. Thanks, Miles. Maybe you and I can go … somewhere and grab a cup of coffee?”
“Sorry, no can do. I’ve got wall to wall meetings, but thanks, Carmel.”
She looked annoyed—not that I gave a flying fuck.
“Maybe next time you’re in London.”
“I always like being interviewed by you, Carmel,” I said, a huge fake smile on my face.
Stupid cow believed it, fluttering her eyelashes and pouting.
Even Melody raised her eyebrows and shook her head in amusement.
“Well, that was entertaining,” she said, once we left the room. “You’re getting good at this, Miles.” Then, more sincerely, “How are you holding up?”
I was tired of people asking me that, but yeah, I understood why they did it. And I knew Melody wasn’t just being nosy. I trusted her—she’d given me my break.
“I’m okay. It’s just when people say crap like that, it pisses me off. But yeah, I’m fine.”
“And how are things with Lilia?”
I pulled a face.
“That good?”
“Ha, well … I’d be happy if I never had to have anything to do with her ever again.”
“But you know you have to—for publicity?”
“Yeah, I get that, Melody, believe me. And I don’t want to make your job harder… actually, there was something I’ve been meaning to ask you?”
“Oh? I’m intrigued.”
“The contract with the studio?”
“Yes?”
“Do I have to do it if there’s a sequel to Dazzled?”
She gave me a shrewd look.
“Well, I’ve seen the contract, obviously, but I’d have to check the fine print. I would suggest, however, that even if you’re not locked into a sequel—and I’d be surprised if you weren’t—you should think very carefully before you turned it down, simply because of … personal issues. Miles, you’re a young actor and you have great potential—that much is clear. But you’re at the beginning of your career, and you should think very hard about making a bad decision at this point.”
“You think it would be a bad decision?”
She leaned against the wall and sighed heavily.
“Financially, yes. Professionally, that’s less clear-cut. The reviews for Dazzled are all good, particularly for your role. But part of my answer will depend on how your next project Lifers is perceived. It’s a tougher sell, but people need to know you can do more than fantasy and romance.”
She was right, I knew she was right. But the thought of having to work with Lilia again—that sucked.
“Do you still want me to investigate the contract?”
“Yeah, please. Just so I know where I stand.”
She smiled. “You’re learning, Miles.”
I’d only been back in my room a couple of minutes when there was a knock at the door.
I pulled it open, excited and, in all honesty, a bit nervous.
Clare was standing there with a little scowl on her face that made me smile.
When she stormed into the room, I felt my smile slip.
“I suppose you were going to tell me that there was a sequel to Dazzled?” she snapped, her eyes sparking, and her mouth clamped into a hard line. “Perhaps it just slipped your mind?”
“Well…”
“Because it really pisses me off that I had to read in a bloody newspaper rather than to hear it from you!”
“Hey, wait a minute!”
“No, you wait! If we’re going to do this whole dating lark, then…”
I was so happy to hear that she still wanted to date me that I shut her up the only way I could think of.
I kissed her.
As soon as our lips met, my body went into overdrive. I wanted to touch her everywhere. I wanted to feel her everywhere.
Her hands flew up to my neck and gripped me hard.
Then she pushed me away abruptly, leaving me panting like a dog.
“You can’t distract me that easily!” she barked.
I couldn’t help grinning at her, and before you roll your eyes, I know that was a really dumb thing to do.
Clare
I was furious. You know, the whole red mist, ready to do some violence sort of fury.
I stormed into that hotel room, prepared to give Mr. Oops There’s Something Important I Forget To Tell My Girlfriend a piece of my mind. A really sharp piece.
But then he kissed me. And I almost let him get away with it. But just because my heart was thundering like a 300 pound sprinter going over the hurdles, and my blood was about to superheat to the temperature of a solar flare, I wasn’t letting him get away with that.
I pushed him off.
And he grinned at me! That was so out of order.
“I am seriously pissed here, Miles! Don’t you dare grin at me or you’ll be needing the services of a Hollywood dentist after all.”
“Okay, okay! I get it. But, shit, Clare, you’re so hot when you’re angry.”
I gaped at him. I was standing there yelling at him and that was turning him on?
I was so screwed.
“Be careful what you say next, Stephens! You do realize my vagina has an on—off switch linked directly to whatever comes out of your mouth?”
He gave a dark laugh.
“Are you sure?”
“Yup, pretty sure.”
“Are we talking about just the words that come out of my mouth?” he asked, flicking his tongue over his lips as I imagined it licking between my breasts and toward my stomach. Or a bit lower.
“Um…”
“Nothing else of interest?”
“Um…”
He took a pace toward me so his body was flush against mine. He leaned down very slowly, pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, and placed his lips against my ear.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
He tugged my earlobe with his teeth and kissed his way down my throat to my collar bone. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he walked me back toward the bed.
“This is coming off,” he said, tugging at the hem of my sweater. “And this definitely has no business covering up those fan-fucking-tastic tits,” he continued, peeling off my t-shirt. He unhooked my bra with one hand, and started massaging my breasts with the other, pinching the nipples lightly.
He unzipped my jeans and pulled them down slowly. I lay on the bed, splayed out like a baby whale while he stood, fully clothed, gazing down.
Moving lazily, he removed his t-shirt and jeans with teasing slowness, and slid down until he was level with my side. He kissed my lips softly, then scooted further down the bed and kissed his way from my knees back up to the top of my thighs.
“Still mad at me?” he said.
“Um…”
“Still want to tell me off?” he murmured against my skin.
“Um…”
“Go on, Clare,” and he bit my neck. “Tell me how bad I’ve been.”
“Um…”
Yeah, I’m not sure who won that conversation.