 
1st Chance

A New Adult Romance

Copyright 2014 © Elizabeth Nelson

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2014 Elizabeth Nelson

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author and/or publisher. No part of this publication may be sold or hired, without written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the writer's imagination and / or have been used fictitiously in such a fashion it is not meant to serve the reader as actual fact and should not be considered as actual fact. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

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# CHAPTER 1—ANNA

I woke in the dead of the night. Silvery shadows from the moon lit my room with an ethereal glow and I blinked up at my ceiling, eyes wide and mind racing. This was the third time running I'd snapped awake. Like my body was trying to tell me something. You're missing out, it whispered to me. Your life is passing you by.

The now familiar numbness cloaked me like a blanket. If I'd been able to feel anything, I'd have laughed at the ridiculousness of my desolate anxiety. I pulled my bed covers up to my chin and flipped to lie on my side. On my nightstand, the red LED on my clock shone 2:32, as if to taunt me. I picked up my phone that was lying beside it, more out of habit than genuine curiosity. No messages. No missed calls. No life. No excitement. I threw it behind me where it landed with a thud on the other side of my singly occupied double bed and I sighed as I sat up.

I needed to do something. There was no way that I could deal with another night staring at my wall. On impulse, I threw the covers back and threw on jogging bottoms and a hoody, not bothering to turn on the lamp. I just wanted to get out, I felt suffocated inside my own body. Scooping my chestnut hair into a scruffy bun on the top of my head, I quietly opened my door and tiptoed down the apartment hallway, being careful not to wake Becky. She was my best friend and we'd lived together for over two years now, but she was a light sleeper and cranky if she was woken. Plus, I wanted to indulge in this solitude. I hoped it would still me.

Picking up my keys, I winced as I softly closed the front door, headed down the glaringly bright hallway and out of the apartment block. Once out on the street, I inhaled deeply. The air was crisp, and my exhale came out in a cloud of white smoke. What the hell are you doing Anna? I asked myself, but I didn't know the answer, so I just started to walk.

My mind was gloriously empty as my trainers echoed off the sidewalk, the sound bouncing into the silent street. It was as though I were the only person in existence as I carved a random path. Town was close, but I chose to circle blocks of houses, not wanting to run the risk of bumping into anyone—or putting myself in danger. The neighborhood was safe enough, darkened houses almost in silhouette against the lurid orange streetlamps. I didn't have a destination. I was letting my legs lead, hoping that the exercise would help to shake this restlessness that was choking me.

Three blocks in, I started to feel a little lifted. Alone, the streets were sort of surreal. It was like I was in a post apocalyptic movie and I almost began to enjoy myself in the dramatic fantasy. It started to drizzle lightly, and I pulled my hood up against the fine drops, undeterred.

A dark figure ahead of me caused my heart to stop for a beat, then race against my chest as I realized the figure was walking on my side of the road and heading right for me. I slowed my pace but panic had already set in. It was definitely a male. I could tell by his gait. He was very slender, but tall. He, too, had his hood up, hands shoved inside coat pockets. I ran through a thousand potential scenarios in my head. Surely I wouldn't be attacked or—I admitted the thought—killed? It was a built up area, houses on both sides of the road with families inside. If I screamed, I'd surely be heard.

Thinking that I would look idiotic if I turned and ran in the other direction, despite the fizz of adrenalin making my muscles scream at me to use the flight option they were preparing me for, I carried on walking. Keeping my head down, I watched my feet as the stranger and I moved closer toward each other. Shifting my eyes, I attempted to peek subtle glances at him while trying to keep my breath steady. I was scared. It was the most alive I had felt in a long time and, perversely, I almost relished it.

He was very close now, I looked sideways quickly as we were about to pass each other, and surprise shot through me—I recognized him.

"Nate?" I said uncertainly. He stopped alongside me but did not turn his head. My fear dissipated, his profile was distinctive and I was sure it was him—the curve of his nose and prominence of his full lips were unmistakable beneath the dark hood.

"Nate? It's me, Anna." I was baffled by his static pause. As soon as I'd spoken, he spun to face me with a tiny hint of a smile.

"Anna!" Nate placed his hands on my shoulders and looked me over as if to check. "I'm so relieved, I thought you were some crazy fan." He pulled me in for a brief hug. I could smell an expensive aftershave beneath the scent of fresh rain that lay on his coat, and I was strangely comforted. He kept his hands on my shoulders and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"What the hell are you doing out here at this time of night?" he asked. Even in the dim light, his eyes were as mesmerizing as I remembered—a swirl of greeny-blue, intense and beautiful. I never did get used to the magnetism of those eyes, and I lowered my gaze to avoid them. Nate had always made me feel like he could see right to the center of my soul, and I did not want it exposed right now.

"I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk. But, erm, I live like four blocks away, unlike you—aren't you supposed to be on tour? Why are you wandering the streets of my neighborhood?" Once the words were out, a startling realization struck me. I met his eyes again to see if my assumption was correct. He stared right into me, but there was a gleam of sheepishness, embarrassment.

"Nate, were you on your way to our place? Have you come to see Becky?" I gasped.

Last year, my best friend and Nate had been in love. They'd had an intense relationship—Nate would fly from all over the world to hole up in Becky's room inside our apartment. He was lead singer in the band Chance, and we'd travelled all over the country so they could be together while he toured. It was thrilling and complicated—avoiding paparazzi and groupies and hiding in backstage areas to avoid any limelight. I'd loved every second as Becky's wingman during that time. Eventually, she made the journeys alone. But the thrill started to fade for her. It was hard work, dating someone as famous as the front man of Chance, and the stress and unpredictability started to wear her down. Their break up was as explosive as the relationship had been, and a year on—even though Becky's circumstances were wildly different now—I was still cautious about bringing it up. She'd shattered into pieces when they had split.

Nate dropped his hands, his large eyes, sad.

"I just wanted to be close. I don't feel like myself anymore, Anna. I miss her." His final comment came out in a whisper and I felt desperate for him. "Our next gig is a couple hundred miles away. I insisted on getting a hotel near here. But I couldn't sleep. I hardly ever sleep these days."

"Oh, Nate. It will get easier, I promise." It was cliché, but I couldn't think of anything else to say. I was used to a confident, self-assured man. Full of energy and vitality, mischievous, a little cocky even. This broken shadow was not the guy I had spent time with a year ago. He took a deep breath and seemed to shake himself.

"What's the deal with you, anyway?" Nate wanted the subject changed. "Often walk the streets at 3am do you?"

I couldn't muster the smile that his statement had been designed to invoke. Instead, I shuffled my feet and shrugged.

"I dunno. I just feel—lost at the moment. Bored. I can't explain it. I'm fed up with the path I've chosen, I want more. I want—I don't really know what I want. And that's the main problem." I hadn't meant to blurt so much, to be so honest, but there was something raw about standing in a ghostly quiet street in darkness. It felt like the right time to spill inner thoughts, somehow.

"What a pair. Both out searching for things we know we can't find." Nate's laughter had a bitter edge. "You still got the same cell number?" he asked. I nodded yes. "Look, come and see me after a show. It'll be good to catch up. We should go and try to sleep. Want me to walk you back?"

Although it was nice to see him, I still craved solitude and declined his offer, wanting to use the walk back to try and empty my thoughts. He opened his arms and I allowed him to squeeze me tightly. The unexpected human contact was a pleasant warmth in the cold, damp night. We smiled at each other as we turned to walk in opposite directions.

I knew that Nate just wanted to see me because I was a connection to Becky, but I didn't care. I guess I was using him equally, wanting to go to his gig in order to feel some of that spontaneity Becky and I used to know. I needed something to look forward to, needed a moment where I could escape from my life.

As I snuck back into the apartment, I decided I wouldn't tell Becky about my encounter with her ex. It had taken her a long time to get the light back in her eyes, she was happy now, and I didn't want to be the one responsible for setting her back. Guilt already built inside me, but I was sure that this was the best tactic. It would just be one show, she'd never find out. Plus, I had to admit to feeling a little abandoned by her recently. It wasn't her fault, not really. I'd been getting increasingly lower, just as she was getting increasingly happier. She'd spent so long being down, I didn't think it was right to reveal my growing listlessness—I didn't want to drag her back down. But this meant that I'd been suffering internally all alone, and tiny pinpricks of resentment had formed. I was angry a lot, and poor Becky often tolerated the brunt of it. It was about time I gave her a break.

Sighing, I checked the clock as I lay down. I needed to be up for work in four hours. I worked in a giant call center for a telecommunication company, and the thought of sitting for nine hours, listening to complaint after complaint over my phone's headset filled me with a sickening dread. I wanted a way out of the ordinary. I had managed to overcome what I had hoped would be one of the biggest obstacles in my life—I had found the strength for that, from somewhere. Now, I wanted to discover the self that had nearly been lost completely during that time. I would find a way to get myself back to me, to shake off the hangover of the past.

As my eyelids grew heavy, a solid resolve began to grow in the pit of my stomach and even though the start of my night had been hollow and dead, the new spark of hope enabled me to drift into a dreamless slumber.

# CHAPTER 2—NATE

I texted Anna as soon as I got back to my room. Remembering she had an office-type job, I told her to come along to the second show I was doing in the town nearby, that upcoming Friday. At least then she'd be able to hang out after. I was desperate to ask about Becky, to glean any tidbits of information that I could. I felt bad for using her, but I wasn't entirely—I'd spent a long time with Anna in the time I was with Becks, and I liked her. I wanted the comfort of a familiar face outside of the band, too.

My hotel room was generic. I'd seen thousands and they failed now to give me the buzz of joy they had when the band had first made it. I used to open the mini bar, fling myself onto pristine Egyptian cotton sheets, grin at huge walk-in showers and sunken tubs. Now I barely noticed any of the details. They were rooms without character or life, somewhere to drink in, as I hardly slept, or to bring back impressed, faceless girls, who walked around touching the plush curtains and exclaiming at the bed size while I waited for their attention to focus back on me. Even the girls had become generic, like the hotel rooms. Everything had lost its sparkle for me.

I slumped into goose down pillows, their luxury wasted on me, and flicked on the TV for company rather than entertainment. A bottle of whiskey sat on the nightstand and I poured myself a generous glass, attempting to achieve enough sedation to pull me into sleep.

***

The sweet tang of the smoke machine filled my nostrils as I closed my eyes, threw my arms in the air and allowed the screams from the audience to engulf me. The guitar was a heavy comfort dangling from its strap across my shoulders and it rocked slightly at the expansion of my lungs. The exertion of the final track had left me panting hard. Not wanting to escape this feeling—the thrill of vibration from the cheers and foot stomping in the crowd, the tingle of adrenalin in my veins—I kept my eyes shut just a moment longer. Holding on. Wishing I could stay there forever.

The lights went down as the pyrotechnics fizzed ahead of me, and only then did I look. I saw hundreds of mouths chanting my name.

"Nate. Nate. Nate."

Hands clapping in the air beyond the sulphuric black cloud of the now-spent indoor fireworks. The smile that spread across my lips was genuine as I paraded for the final time up and down the width of the stage. My drummer, Mikey, came forward and tossed a few of his spare drum sticks into the pit of hysterical woman. I stood back slightly to allow him to enjoy his moment of adulation and took the time to cast my gaze on the few faces I could make out from the front row.

Of course, most of our fans were girls, and while the majority were currently wrestling each other over Mikey's sticks, a large number still kept their yells focused toward me. I loved this feeling. Loved it. Knowing I could pick any single one of those woman—more than one if I wanted—and they'd do anything. I could say this confidently due to very personal experience. A gorgeous brunette caught my eye. She was standing stock still, her gaze fixed on me. I spun the guitar around so it hung on my back and I raised a hand at her. She just smiled, her full lips parting, revealing her teeth. My face was blazoned on the tight t-shirt she wore, stretching against the fullness of her large breasts. I licked my lips before leaving the stage, having made my decision for the night.

"Hey. Good show, man. You had some energy out there tonight." Mikey slapped me on the back as we made our way down the stairs toward the dressing rooms. The venue had a surprisingly nice backstage area and we each had our own rooms as well as a large space where we could all hang out. On the last tour I'd spent most of my time in communal areas, hanging out with the roadies, technicians and groupies. And Becky. Laughing, joking and partying. The rush of performing didn't last so long these days; as soon as the lights had dimmed, as soon as I'd left the stage, reality started to descend. As the now familiar block of ice began to form in the pit of my stomach, I flashed Mikey a forced smile and winked at him, turning to rush back to the wings, holding the neck of my Fender to stop it bouncing. I heard his deep chuckle, he knew exactly what I was doing. If only I did.

I located one of the security guards and pointed the brunette out to him, being careful not to expose myself from the side of the stage. He nodded and made his way toward the crowd while I headed back to the solitude of my dressing room, managing to keep my smile fixed as I passed a blur of faces.

"Good show, Nate."

"You rocked tonight, Nate."

Grinning thanks at each one, I lifted my guitar off and closed the door. Leaning against it, I felt a brief relief in the solitude as the buzz faded. As memories threatened to tap into the forefront of my mind, I walked a few steps across the small room and spun the lid off a bottle of Jack. Not bothering with the glass—needing an instant buzz—I swigged a burning mouthful and winced as I allowed it to hit my bloodstream. The room was brightly lit, it stung my eyes more than the stage spot had, and was badly painted an off white. A large mirror framed with those tacky but compulsory bulbs sat above a counter that housed my towel, aftershave and bourbon and I briefly met my own eyes in the reflection. All I saw were sadness and grief, and I took another gulp from the bottle as I looked away. A loud knock on the door made me jump slightly. Taking a deep breath, I ran my fingers though my hair and opened it.

The security guard stood before me, his frame bulky and solid.

"The girl is waiting in the main room, Nate," he said, expressionless.

"Great. Thanks." I waited for him to turn around and leave but he just hovered. Knowing exactly what the answer would be, I asked the question anyway.

"Anything else?"

For the first time, the meaty bulk of a man smiled, almost shy.

"It's just. . .well. . .I'm sorry to do this. . .but my daughter is a huge fan of your band. When I told her I was working at a Chance gig tonight she was beside herself." He trailed off, chuckling softly. "I just wondered if you'd mind signing this for her? She'd be thrilled."

He held out our latest album and tapped himself for a pen. I almost laughed – everybody wants an autograph but no one ever has a damn pen with them. Of course, I took the album and located a pen amongst my stuff in the corner of the room with a patient smile. I loved this part of being famous, really—the constant affirmation and adoration—I needed it to feel whole, especially now.

As the security guard left me, Mikey's silhouette appeared down the dim corridor.

"Hey. There's a smoking hot girl down there waiting for you. . ." He trailed off as he clocked the bottle dangling from my hand. "Are you okay, Nate? You've been hitting that stuff pretty hard this tour. Don't want you burning out on us."

I toyed with the idea of spilling my head to Mikey. He'd been great to me when I'd split with Becky—all the guys had been. But here, a year on, I knew he'd just tell me to get a grip. Enough time had passed, I should have moved on by now. Instead, I chuckled dismissively and hit him on the arm.

"We're rock-stars Mikey." I waggled the bottle in front of him. "Just livin' the dream." Choosing to ignore the concern on his face, I shut the door to my dressing room and walked the narrow corridor to a large, buzzing space full of chattering bodies, flight cases and wires.

The atmosphere intensified as I walked in. The crew were all unfazed by me, of course, but occasionally they'd invite friends and family. They'd all be cool, but I had to do the usual posing for photos and signing of shirts before I could locate my chosen distraction for the evening.

She stood nervously in the corner and I adopted a swagger I did not feel as I approached her.

"Hey. I'm Nate." I held out my hand to her and quickly did a scan of her face. Definitely in her twenties, I noticed with relief. As she clasped my palm in hers, I pulled her forward to kiss her cheek. She immediately dissolved.

"Oh my God, I'm so stoked to meet you. Like, your music has changed my life. I love you guys," she gushed. "I'm Alice, by the way."

"Well that's nice to hear Alice, thank you." I leaned provocatively against the wall and was about to invite her to my hotel when something stopped me. Before and after Becky, this was a common post-gig activity for me, and most of the guys in the band. At first it was fun, and after the break-up, necessary—anything to take my mind off the hurt. But today? I just didn't want to. I didn't have energy to give to a complete stranger. I didn't feel worthy of the constant worship or willingness to please. Instead, I signed some merchandise for her, posed for a couple of photos she snapped on her cell, and escorted her to security who could lead her back to the auditorium.

"Bit of a crazy was she?" the bass player, Jon said in my ear. I had known Jon the longest out of all the guys. We had jammed together as teenagers in my mom's garage, and I didn't have to put up as much of a front with him as I did others. I couldn't—he'd see right through it.

"Just not feeling it. What are you up to now?" I suddenly wanted my friend to stick around.

"I gotta hit the hay. Marissa and the kids are flying out tomorrow. Can't wait. Are you okay?" I felt a surge of admiration for Jon and his loyalty, his ability to combine two such different worlds. He had married Marissa ten years ago, when they were both twenty one. He had two adorable kids and even though he bounced around on tour, got screamed at and plagued by fans everywhere he went, he still managed to maintain a perfect and loving family life.

"I'm fine. Can't wait to see Marissa and the beans. Oh, Anna's coming to the show tomorrow, too. She'll be glad to hear she's got some company."

"Becky's friend Anna? That a good idea?" Jon queried.

"Sure, why not?" I frowned. "It's not like she's coming with Becky. And she's pretty cool. I thought it'd be good to catch up with her."

"Just as long as it doesn't bring back too many memories. Seems you've been struggling with those enough lately." He gestured toward the drink in my hand. I was shocked by how many people had noticed—I thought I had been doing a good job of covering my abject misery, but perhaps not. It was tough shit though, I needed it right now, I had nothing else. Unexpectedly, I felt a flash of anger toward my friend. How dare he judge me? No one had the faintest clue what I was going through, no one had even fucking bothered to ask properly. I stared him in the eye as I lifted the bottle and took a large swallow, and carried on glaring at him as he walked away.

# CHAPTER 3—ANNA

"What are you up to tonight honey?" Becky asked me as I spooned pasta into my mouth. I used chewing as an excuse to find a decent answer, I didn't want to lie to her, but as I hardly ever went out, I'd have to think of something believable. I choked as I tried to get rid of my food, my throat constricting with guilt.

"Erm. . ." It was no good. I came clean. "I'm actually going to the Chance show." I raised my eyes slowly to assess her reaction. It was not good. She slammed the glass of water she'd been holding onto the kitchen table opposite me. I flinched and braced myself.

"I'm sorry. You what?" Her voice was dangerously calm and I knew she was bubbling. I had very good experience in detecting outbursts from people.

"A girl from work had a spare ticket and asked me to go. It's not like I'm going to see him." The lie fell out of my mouth without me even preparing it. Perhaps I was better at this than I'd thought. Becky exhaled slowly, I could see the blue in her irises darken as she smoothed her white-blonde hair. We couldn't have looked more opposite if we tried, with her all-American pinkness contrasting to my olive tan.

"I can't believe you would even consider going. You know what that man put me through. I wouldn't go and meet up with Pete—I couldn't even bear to look at him after the way he treated you. How could you do this?"

"Becks." I stood up from my pasta and walked round the table to drape an arm over her shoulder. "I'm just going to watch the show. They're regular seats, I'm not going to talk to him or be anywhere near him. I won't mention it when I come home and that will be that. What are your plans?" I was impressed with how convincing I sounded, and sickened at being such a deceitful friend. I would see Nate tonight, and then that was it, I promised myself. He could move on with his tour and I would never have to lie to Becky again. She sniffed and thought for a moment.

"Okay, I guess I was over-reacting. Jason's coming over tonight anyway, I was gonna ask if you could make yourself scarce, if you didn't mind? I'm gonna cook, I'll save you some in the fridge for tomorrow if you'd like?"

I was horrified that Becky was now the one feeling bad for asking me to disappear. She had been seeing Jason for the last six months, and it had gotten pretty serious pretty quickly. He was an accountant at a large firm in town—polite and amicable enough, and quite cute, but as dull as a piece of cardboard if you asked me. Dependable, safe—all the things Becky had been craving. All the things I was running from. But she seemed happy. The last thing I wanted was to ruin that for her.

"No, don't worry. I was gonna get take-out tomorrow, anyway. You guys enjoy. I'll be out of your way in half an hour." I gave her a hug before sitting down to try and finish a meal I no longer had the appetite for.

I was nervous as I walked past the long queue of noisy Chance fans on my own. This was a big step for me, finding the confidence to go out alone, and I was mindful of its significance. A few of the girls in the line shouted to me as I reached the closed front doors and approached the burly security guarding them. Most of the yells were annoyed cries of unfairness as I gave my name and showed I.D, then had the doors opened for me. The insults bounced right off, I felt smug and special at being allowed into a place where so many people wanted to be. I remembered how great it had been back in the days I used to come with Becky, being on my own had not taken the shine off that.

I was early and the huge auditorium looked vast and cavernous—empty seats as far up as the eye could see. The odd twang of a guitar boomed out across the many speakers and there was a bustle near the stage as roadies and technicians made their final checks. I smiled at the guy on the sound desk as I made my way to the front. He seemed to recognize me and he smiled and waved cheerfully from his protected podium.

"Anna!" I heard someone call from the stage. It was Rob, Chance's stage manager. He sheltered his eyes from the lights and motioned for me to come over. I weaved through the barrier a couple of feet from the stage and grinned up at him.

"Hey you." He dangled his arm down and pulled me ungracefully onto the stage. "Good to see you again, it's been a long time. How come you didn't use the backstage door?"

I was momentarily breathless as I looked out across the venue—how could the guys look so comfortable up here with all those seats occupied? I felt scared even though it was still empty.

"Too many fans, I couldn't even get close," I explained, bringing my mind back to focus. "I swear they're more ferocious than last year."

"Yep. Nate and the boys attract some passionate groupies, that's for sure." He laughed softly. "Come on, I'll take you backstage and find them for you." A few familiar faces said hello as we entered the damp smelling dusk of the wings. The backstage corridor was tatty and long. Rob led me to a large room right at the bottom, where a few people were hanging out, swigging coffee from cardboard cups and leaning on various bits of equipment. Two young children zoomed past my feet and I beamed as I saw Marissa, the bass player's wife, calling out to them to calm down. Rob, satisfied that I was going to be looked after, left me to it.

I was pleased to see Marissa, and as we caught up, Jon came over and gave me a warm hug hello.

"I think Nate's on his way down." His expression was serious. "He's not been doing so great, Anna. Please don't bring up the past for him."

"I won't. I'm just here to catch up and say goodbye really. The split tore them both apart by the sounds of it. I don't think I'm gonna be able to stay friends with him."

"That's sad, but actually I think that's probably the most helpful thing to do. He's finding it hard to move on and I don't think constant reminders will help. Make sure you come and say bye to me after the show." He gave me a sorrowful smile. "It's nice to see you. I'm sorry it'll be the last time."

Marissa rubbed my arm comfortingly. I saw Nate arrive from the back of the room, his long legs cloaked with his trademark leather trousers. His dark hair had been styled into a messy, disheveled mop which suited him. Stubble coated his jaw, I wasn't sure whether it was designer or lack of care. He did not speak as he wrapped his arms around me. I let him hold me for as long as he needed, trying to ignore the whispers from others in the room as he hit the three minute mark.

"I'm glad you came," he whispered into my hair as he finally let go. Before any more words could be exchanged, Rob shouted into the throng of people.

"The support's about to go on. Thirty minutes guys."

"I gotta go and get ready." Nate gave me the first genuine smile I'd seen from him. "I really am glad you're here. I'll meet you after, okay? Enjoy the show." He winked at me before heading down the corridor and I could not help but feel relief at seeing that the old Nate was still in there, somewhere.

The show was phenomenal. If Nate was suffering inside, he did not show any cracks while he performed his heart out. I stood with Marissa and the kids at the side of the stage and we whooped and sang along with the boys. The ice in my heart thawed slightly in that hour and a half, I got a taste of happiness for a short time. It made my lie to Becky almost worthwhile.

It seemed as though Nate had experienced some happiness too, he was covered in a sheen of sweat as he bounded off stage, but there was a light in his eyes. It was a light I remembered well. He went to pick me up straight after, but I batted him off.

"Ugh, you're all wet. Nate, seriously, you were amazing, you all sounded amazing."

"Ah, stoppit." His turn to bat me away, but there was a curve on his lips. "I'm gonna take a quick shower, then what do you say me and you go for a drink?"

I hesitated, but I wasn't ready to go home and watch Becky and Mr. Boring get cozy, I wanted to carry on enjoying myself. Plus, this would be the last time I'd ever see Nate, so it would be nice to have a decent send off.

I hung out with the other guys while I waited. Mikey slapped me on the butt and told me I was looking hot. Jon left and I said an emotional goodbye to him and his family. One by one, people started to thin out of the room.

"Jesus, you take as long in the shower as a girl," I teased Nate when he eventually emerged. I was pleased to see that he still looked happy and he gave me a cheeky grin.

"Can't go embarrassing my companion for the evening by looking like a mess, can I?"

"You know this isn't a date, right?" I needed to check that we were on the same page. "These are farewell drinks, Nate."

Nate shook his head. "I know it's not a date, Anna. I was just kidding." He spoke quietly, hurt.

"Sorry. Forget I said anything. Come on, you've made me wait long enough, buy me wine."

We went to Nate's hotel room and ordered a bottle of red on room service. Going out anywhere with him could be a nightmare—his chiseled features and piercing eyes were too recognizable and we'd have been hounded by fans all night. I also couldn't take the risk of being snapped with him after what I'd promised Becky. There were a couple of plush armchairs in Nate's room that we sank into after chinking glasses together.

"Everyone's worried about you. Your drinking. Your behavior. They think you're on the brink of a meltdown." I bought up the elephant in the room right away.

"I was worried about me. I haven't been coping well. And yeah, I guess I've been doing a lot of drinking." He leaned forward. "Last night, I started to feel different. Better. I think seeing you reminded me of the real memories of me and Becks, not just the rose tinted ones I'd adapted as an excuse for my own agony." He sat back. "The fact is, she put me in a really hard position—gave me an impossible decision to make—and in the end, was actually a massive bitch. I loved her. I miss her. But I'd forgotten how much I disliked her until now."

I frowned, I knew there were complications and lots of fights at the end of their relationship, I was witness to the months of screaming and tears, but I wasn't aware of Becky making things hard for Nate or giving him ultimatums. I wanted to question him but he got there before me.

"I don't want to go over it anymore. Let's just have some fun and finish our friendship in style." He picked up the phone and ordered more wine.

# CHAPTER 4—NATE

It was as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and I knew it wasn't just from the drink. Anna was great to be around, she didn't take herself, or anything, too seriously and I laughed more than I'd laughed the whole year put together.

We put a music channel on in the background and danced around the room, giggling and stumbling. I felt silly and happy and completely able to be myself. Breathless, I bent over and rested my hands on my knees while Anna carried on spinning and doing the running man with chicken wings. A few seconds passed before I realized that I wasn't just watching, I was transfixed. Her curves undulated to the track. She wasn't trying to be sexy, she just was—it came from the very core of her. Her black silk hair swung around her shoulders, the exposed skin, milk chocolate and glistening. She spun to face me and stopped dead.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, worried.

I stood. Suddenly, my heart was pounding. I swallowed, certain she could hear its beat.

"Nothing. Nothing, carry on with your chicken dance." I tried to make my tone light, but I knew she could feel the change in atmosphere. She stood, baffled, while I tried everything I could to suppress the rush of affection from building, from even being in existence. I don't know what came over me then; my body took me over completely and I walked up to her and placed both of my palms onto her satin cheeks. She was so petite and delicate, I was afraid to touch her for fear she would break. She froze and looked up to my face questioningly. I was consumed. Totally, utterly consumed. Before I could think, before my head could rule my heart, I bent down and kissed her.

There was a split second where our lips met and electricity shot up and down my spine. I moved my hands into her hair but then felt a hard shove against my chest. We broke apart, both panting. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, as if trying to rub me off.

"What the hell do you think you're doing Nate?" Her eyes were ablaze as she shouted. There was no mistaking her fury as I realized with dread that I had read the situation very, very wrong.

"I thought. . .I just thought it seemed right," I stammered, not knowing what to say. I was annoyed with myself for having ruined what had been a really great evening.

"God, you're such an idiot. You can't just kiss me—I'm not some groupie, I'm your ex-girlfriend's best friend. Have you got no control over yourself? What did you think would happen?" She gathered up her jacket and bag. "I'm going. Thanks for a good time—up until now. Have a nice life, Nate."

I couldn't find words and just gaped at Anna as she left the room. I sat on the edge of the bed and put my head in my hands. I don't know what had come over me, I hadn't felt a pull that strong, not ever—not even when I first met Becky.

I reminisced about that time, as that was the same moment I'd met Anna. They were friends with our stand-in drummer when Mikey was sick, and were backstage for a few shows. I noticed Becky immediately—she was a head turner with her long legs, blond hair and big blue eyes—but my memory of Anna was more fuzzy. She had seemed shy, even after I'd gotten together with Becks and had been hanging around for a while. She never warmed to me, or so I'd thought. She was always serious, a bit jumpy and quiet. A million miles away from the girl who had been in this room with me. It was as though she had emerged from her chrysalis; a beautiful, vivacious breath of fresh air.

I considered the evolution of Anna, and then tried to move on to other things. But I picked up her glass and found myself running my thumb along the faint smear of lip gloss imprinted on the side. Oh good God. I couldn't get her out of my head. From the moment I saw her, before we'd even gone on stage, I'd felt something. I hadn't wanted to let go when we hugged backstage. I could have stayed there longer, but I'd seen the peculiar looks we had attracted. How was I falling for a girl I had known for almost two years without a single drop of desire?

I picked up my phone. My mind would not let it go and I didn't want to live in regret. I had to check how she felt. Connections like this were rare—I had met enough females to know that—and I didn't want it to simply pass by. It could have just been that single minute, it could have been the wine, it could have been the dancing. But I had to know. For I was sure, more than I was sure about my feelings, that for one second, she had kissed me back. How can two people create that sort of spark if just one person is giving it off?

I gave in and stabbed her a message from my cell. I had the next day off and there was no question as to who I wanted to spend it with. I jiggled my leg nervously as I tried not to look at my phone. Within five minutes, there was a vibration and I snatched up the device to read her reply. It was perfunctory, to say the least, and not terribly polite, but there was something almost too defensive about it. Maybe I was being overly optimistic but I could sense. . .something. As I lay back onto my bed I thought only of her face. Her smile. For the first time in a year, I slept soundly through the entire night.

When Mikey knocked the next day, I was already up and showered. He didn't try to hide the surprise when he saw my freshness.

"Had a good night, did we?" he asked, accusation in his tone. I was bright enough to know not to reveal anything.

"Yeah, it was fun. Good to see Anna. She left early and I had a decent sleep, for once."

Satisfied that I had covered all bases for any further questioning, we headed down to the hotel restaurant for lunch.

"Okay. What's going on?" Mikey put down his fork and crossed his arms on the table.

"What are you talking about?" I shrugged.

"You have not stopped checking your phone. You must've looked at it a thousand times. You're picking at your food like an anorexic. So I'll ask you again. What's going on? Who's the girl?"

I snatched my phone from next to me and slipped it into my pocket out of the way. I hadn't heard a thing Mikey had said until then—Anna was on my mind every other second, I just couldn't concentrate.

"Sorry. I'm being rude. Nothing's going on. I swear. I don't know why I'm checking my phone. Habit?" I said feebly, knowing it was a poor reason.

"You better not be hooking back up with Becky. That girl screwed you over and doesn't deserve a second chance."

I shook my head vigorously, grateful for not having to lie.

"I can assure you Mikey, me and Becky are never getting back together." He raised his eyebrows at me, skeptical and bemused at my odd behavior, but was easily distracted by questions about his own escapades from the previous night—which were far more X-rated than mine had been. I told him I felt like chilling in my room and having a lazy day. I was shattered—constant drinking and insomnia hit me harder on days off and I was looking forward to daydreaming of Anna. As I flipped the silent phone over and over in my hand, an idea formed in my mind.

At two in the morning, I wrapped up and made my way out of the hotel, walking the path I had a couple of mornings ago when I had bumped into Anna. I couldn't stop thinking about her, wondering if she was doing the same, wondering if this was all in my head—a mental attempt at feeling alive again. No one had really seemed to understand the grief that had accompanied the break up with Becky. Sure, they were sympathetic about the events, Jon the most. But no one really got the sense of loss, the hole in the pit of my stomach. Meeting Anna again, it was like a balm. I physically felt that hole start to close over, to start healing, as so many had said it would.

Getting closer to her street, I slowed to a snail's pace. I looked up and down the road. It was devoid of life. The air was freezing, the wind still. I made a deal with myself, if she wasn't here by the time I reached the corner, I'd head back and forget all about it. But I'd try harder to get things together - drink less, sleep more. Concentrate on the band.

Although my steps were tiny, I couldn't move any slower than I already was and I reached the corner more quickly than I'd have liked. I stopped there for a bit, looking up and down the adjacent streets. Nothing. I lowered my head and let out a loud sigh. This had been a stupid idea. Perhaps I was losing it? I twisted back round, glancing around for the last time. As I made to step away, I saw a shape in the distance, just rounding the corner of the street I'd come from. My breath caught as I stared. It had to be her. As she got closer, I could make out the hourglass of her figure even underneath a thick coat. I wasn't positive enough to move, so I hovered ominously underneath the streetlamp.

"Nate?" she called out to me as she stepped ever nearer and my heart leapt. I lifted to the balls of my feet and jogged to her.

"Anna." I was too afraid to reach out to her, so I kept my fists in balls by my side, waiting for her to make the first move this time.

"Nate, what—are you turning into some sort of stalker? This used to be a decent neighborhood you know." The smile in her eyes was all the affirmation I needed.

"I'm sorry for pushing it last night. I ruined things, I know." I bit my lip to stop myself talking. I wasn't about to make an idiot of myself for the second time.

"You are such a douche bag. This is ridiculous. This," she gestured into the night, "is ridiculous. I don't know what alcohol induced fantasy you're playing out, but me and you can never be. No matter how many times you meet me in the middle of the night, no matter how—"

I waited for her to finish the sentence. She was just about to say no matter how we feel, I was sure of it. There was a long silence as I weighed up my next move. Anna didn't move. If she didn't want me, surely she would have just walked away by now? Acting purely on instinct, I dipped my head and searched her face, wordlessly asking if it was okay. She slowly blinked but didn't pull away and I moved forward, gently caressing her lips with mine. She was tentative in her response at first, and then she grabbed handfuls of my hair, kissing me back with absolute passion, and all hell broke loose in my head.

# CHAPTER 5—ANNA

As I kissed him, previous guilt simply vanished. I wasn't aware of any emotion other than pure lust. Breaking off, I struggled to catch my breath as we laughed shyly at each other. Then, it hit me.

"This is absurd. I shouldn't have done that. Nate, you have to go. I don't want this." He held both my hands.

"I've never felt like this about anyone before. You. . .you're different. This is different, it's special. It's worth fighting for." His eyes. Oh dear God, his eyes. They were like whirlpools, sucking me in, dragging me in further. I took a step back.

"I don't want any kind of relationship. I don't want to betray my best friend. You have no idea how much she's done for me. I can't go behind her back like this. Go home Nate." Out of nowhere, a lump formed in my throat. How was I falling for him? I'd always liked him, but I'd never looked at him that way before. I couldn't fall for Becky's ex—the man who had broken her heart. He was the ultimate of no-go areas. It was basic girl code. I walked away from him, feeling awful. For him. For me. For Becky.

I had promised that I wouldn't get involved with anyone. I had scars deeper than anyone I knew from my last relationship with that son-of-a-bitch Peter, and I was only just figuring out who I was after he'd destroyed me. I wasn't ready or assured enough to share that person with anyone yet. I shook my head to try and rid myself of the thoughts. All of that was really beside the point. I couldn't make out with my best friend's ex and that was that. So why did I feel so goddamn upset about it? I knew what I was doing when I'd come out here tonight—I had a feeling he would come for me, I knew the connection between us could have been the start of something special. Just bad timing. Really, really bad timing.

I couldn't look Becky in the eye the next morning. She'd been a bit frosty with me since I'd returned back from the gig—or maybe that was just my guilt-ridden, paranoid imagination.

"I'm staying at Jason's tonight. Are you going to be okay here?" She sat next to me on the couch. I could have cried at her concern, I didn't deserve it in the slightest.

"I'll be fine. You guys have fun," I said quietly, staring at my feet.

"Well, just call if you need me or if you have a panic attack. Anytime, you know that." I nodded, afraid that tears would spill if I opened my mouth again. God, how could I have been such a bitch? Becky had been the sole reason I had gotten back the confidence to go to that gig alone in the first place. She'd nurtured me back to myself after Peter, she'd taken care of me, learned how to calm me down if I had an attack, offered my anxiety medication at just the right times. She was the reason that I sat here today, and not in some psychiatric institution – how could I have kissed Nate? It would break her if she ever found out, but I felt like it was breaking me by not indulging myself in him. I practiced some deep breathing, like the doctor had shown me. What a mess.

As soon as she left, I paced the apartment, trying to think of something to distract myself with. I had no other friends, nowhere to go. I scanned through Netflix and chose a stupid comedy, but my mind was only half on it. My cell's vibration made me jump, and then smile as I saw the name on the screen. Nate. I need to see you, it read.

I shoved it under a pillow but it was no use. I needed to see him too. I felt obsessed. I had no idea where his next gig was, and had stopped myself from Googling it, having miserably failed at stopping myself staring at Google images of him all day. Trying not to think too much about it, my thumbs deftly moved across the screen as I typed my reply.

'Come over. Becky's out.'

After pressing send I flung the phone to the other side of the couch and buried my head in a cushion. It was seconds before I got my reply. He'd be here in an hour. Butterflies tickled my stomach, I couldn't deny the excitement at the thought of seeing him. A sudden alarm went off inside my head, and I manically rushed off to the shower, shaved clumsily, smothered myself in my most expensive moisturizer and put on make-up to make it look like I was wearing no make-up.

I'd just finished preening in front of the mirror when the buzzer went. I was nervous as I opened the door and the sight of him standing there in his skinny jeans and leather jacket nearly made me swoon. He flashed me a lop-sided grin as he stepped inside and looked around.

"Is it weird? Being back here?" I asked, suddenly conscious that this might remind him of Becky, might remind him that he was still in love with her and didn't want me.

"Yeah, it's weird. I feel much happier being here now than I did a year ago, though. How have you been? Have you said anything to her?" He turned to me. I widened my eyes incredulously at him.

"Of course I haven't said anything to her. She'd be devastated. I'd lose my best friend." I prickled. "Nate. You aren't doing this to get back at her, are you? To make her jealous?"

He reached out for me and clasped my hand. "Not in the slightest. Don't even think such things. Anna, you must agree that what she did to me was unforgivable? I know you're loyal to her, but don't you think she was in the wrong? I'll never forgive her, I don't want anything to do with her." He kissed me gently on the cheek. "You, however, are a different story." As he moved his lips across my face, I leaned back so I could see him.

"I'm not sure I quite understand," I said, confused. "I thought you guys broke up because Becky couldn't handle the lifestyle. She said she'd caught you with fan girls, that she'd never be able to trust you. You broke her heart. What did she do that was so wrong?"

Nate's jaw dropped and he walked to the kitchen, helping himself to juice from the refrigerator. He took several long gulps before meeting my eye again.

"She told you nothing, did she? I mean, you really don't know?"

"Know what? I've just told you what I know." I was growing impatient, fed up with the riddles. Nate pressed his lips together into a hard line.

"No. I think she should tell you. I can't believe she hasn't. Well, I guess I can. It would've been to make me look like the bad guy. Why don't you ask her?"

I huffed, frustrated at the secrets, baffled as to what Becky could have been keeping from me. Nate tried to diffuse the atmosphere by kissing me again, but I was too agitated. It was as though I was on the outside of their little circle. Being so close to an ex was never going to work, and as painful as it was, I had to admit that to myself.

"We've got tonight. You need to be gone before morning in case she comes back early. We'll have tonight and then that's it. This will always be too hard. We'll fail before we've even begun."

Nate swallowed and held me tight to his chest. I fought back tears for the second time that day. We stayed there, holding each other in silence for a long time. I tried to figure out ways in my head, ways that we could make it work, ways that we could be together, but it all seemed impossible. We moved to the couch, where I wrapped myself around him, wanting to sink inside his skin, be a part of him forever. Neither of us spoke until he got up to leave in the early hours. It was the most thrilling night I had ever had—stroking his chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling his fingers caress my hair. Without words and without meaning to, I had fallen in love with him over those quiet hours and I wondered how I would ever be strong enough to let him go.

When he got up to leave, he leaned in for a lingering kiss. Still, no words were exchanged between us. There didn't seem to be any need. My mind was swirling with emotion. I wanted him more than anything and I could feel the splintering of my heart as he left my apartment.

I quietly cried myself thorough the desolate hollowness of the early hours. I heard Becky come home around eight, and pulled the duvet over my head to try and muffle the sounds of her continuing with her life as mine was crumbling. I must have fallen asleep for a short time, as the sun shone high through my window when I heard a knock at my door.

"Anna? Are you alright?" Becky's voice was tinged with worry and my eyes moistened.

"I'm fine. Be up in a minute." I managed to keep a steady tone. I threw back the duvet and bent down to look in the mirror on my dresser. My eyes were red and puffy, there was no way I'd be able to disguise the fact that I'd been crying. I sniffed and straightened, deciding I no longer cared. I knew this was the moment I may have to choose between my best friend and the man I loved. I wrapped a faded dressing gown around me for comfort more than warmth and stepped out of my room with a firm resolve.

"Oh my God. What happened?" Becky raced to my side and guided me to one of the table's chairs. She sat beside me and rested a warm hand on my knee.

"Becks. I want to ask you about Nate," I began. Becky got defensive right away.

"What has that prick done now?" she asked sternly.

"No. No, he hasn't done anything. It's just, I need to know what happened between you. The truth this time."

Becky sat back, thunderous. She folded her arms and glared at me.

"You saw him the other night, didn't you?" she accused. "What did he say to you?"

I felt torn between betraying his trust and hers. Instead, I just shrugged and repeated my question.

"Anna. I don't know what that bastard has said to you, but who are you going to believe? Me or him? You already know the truth."

I thought back to the time Nate and I had spent together last night. How strong the bond between us had been—how I'd felt such a part of him—and I felt myself whirling once again. Who did I believe? My instincts were being pulled in two directions, depending on who I was with at the time.

"I want you to tell me what happened Becky, or I'll ask him to tell me. I'd rather hear it from you."

She placed her forehead onto the table with a loud thunk and spoke to me from that position, her voice muffled slightly by the wood.

"I really can't understand why you're bringing this all up again, Anna. We broke up and I've had to work really hard at moving on. I don't want to have to go over and over it for no reason." She pivoted her head against the table's surface so she could look at me. Honestly, she looked so ridiculous at that angle I could've laughed. "Are you going to explain why you want to know because I really don't understand?"

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat so I could reply, but it wouldn't go down. How was I seriously considering jeopardizing my friendship based on two nights with one guy? How could I believe what he said over someone I'd known and trusted, for years?

"You know what?" I finally got the words out. "It doesn't matter."

# CHAPTER 6—NATE

I looked out the tiny airplane window onto the blanket of grey cloud we were flying above and reclined my seat so that I was almost horizontal. I didn't want to think about the distance we were travelling, the hundreds of miles away I'd be from Anna, so I turned my head to take in the view of the first class cabin instead. I swallowed and flexed my hands, I needed a drink, badly. Scanning around, I saw that Mikey was snoring, his mouth slack. Rob was buried in his laptop, totally absorbed with the continued organization of the tour. I rubbed my palms over my knees, but the want was too great and I gave in, making a small hand gesture to the stewardess.

"Double Jack please. Easy on the ice."

The impeccably dressed woman smiled at me as she went to get my drink. It lasted less than two seconds and I quickly requested another. The stewardess kept her smile and nodded. I wished she'd tell me no. I wished she'd tell me that I wouldn't find solace in the fog. I showed more restraint with my second drink, the first having now created a satisfactory burn in my veins.

I knew I should be easing up on it, taking my health more seriously, but I was scared to allow too much thinking to occur, and alcohol was a great suppressant for that. Maybe I'd try self control again tomorrow. For now, the buzz in my head, coupled with the gentle whirr of the plane's engine, were proving to be very relaxing indeed.

The jolt of landing woke me and I was surprised I hadn't noticed the descent. Like most things nowadays, flying had become mundane and uninteresting to me. Once, flying to perform a show had been a total buzz, I'd even called my Mom the first time the record company had arranged it. "They're paying for us to fly out there," I'd told her in awe, and that was when we still flew economy. I winced as I sat up. My mouth was sawdust, my head throbbing.

"You look like shit," Mikey commented helpfully. I ignored him and clambered to get off the plane, tapping my foot impatiently in the aisle. I was desperate to check my phone and see if Anna had texted me. She was taking up so much of my head; it was frightening and exhilarating in equal measure. The epiphany I'd hoped for on the journey had been drowned by alcohol and therefore had never manifested. Frustratingly, drinking was still my first answer to every question and I was mad at myself for it. I'd wanted to figure out a way, but it seemed Anna was right, all odds were against us. God knows I'd found it hard enough to hold a functional relationship with the lifestyle I led anyway, without the added obstacles we had.

Rob and Mikey walked beside me as we made our way to the tour bus. Both were sniggering over Mikey's latest exploits. My heart sank as my cell remained silent. God, I was turning into such a miserable son of a bitch. Anna had been the perfect distraction from my general apathy, and now that distraction was gone I couldn't remember how to just feel happy. I took a deep breath and slid the phone back into my pocket. I wanted to fight for Anna. I liked who I was around her, I liked how she made me feel, but I was emotionally drained and knew I needed to focus my attention on the here and now or I'd be risking losing it all. I needed to concentrate on the band, try and get my life back in order. Maybe then I'd be in a better position to figure out some sort of solution. Maybe I would even be able to figure out the actual problem.

"How was she then, Mikey?" I interjected into their conversation, trying to appear interested, trying to snap out of this funk before I received a well deserved slap from one of the guys. Christ knows I was probably the worst company ever recently. I tried to care.

He slipped his shades down over his eyes as we made our way through customs and out to the waiting tour bus. I followed suit. Once one fan recognized you, that was it—and I had a feeling I wouldn't come across especially tolerant today. Plus, Mikey had been right, I did look like shit, and I didn't want photos of me being tweeted around the world in this state.

"'How were they?' would be a more appropriate question my friend," Mikey replied to me with a mischievous grin.

"Don't encourage him, Nate," Rob interrupted. "He seems to think I want to hear every gory detail about his made-up sex life."

We made it to the exit of the airport, getting away with just a few waves in the direction of some shouting girls, and climbed the steps onto the bus.

"You're just jealous, old man." Mikey pushed back his dark, curly mop and sprang to the top of the stairs in one leap, his wiry frame making him seem as agile as a cat. He turned to me. "You seem to be a bit thin on the ground woman-wise these days. How can the lead singer of a rock band be having a dry spell?"

I shoved him forward in the aisle and he flung himself onto the faux leather couch that curved around the back of the bus, stretching his long legs over most of the seats. I paused in the kitchenette before joining him, popping the top off a bottle of beer then shoving him over so I could sit down.

Taking a deep swig, I considered his statement. My phone had yet to vibrate, which meant Anna still hadn't contacted me. I hadn't thought she'd truly meant what she'd said about last night being our one and only shot—goes to show how well I could read people I suppose.

"You know what? I've had enough of brain-dead fans. I want something more. I don't know, substantial I guess." I had time to see Mikey's jaw drop before Jon appeared on the bus. His dark complexion didn't mask the smudges of purple under his eyes.

"Those kids are my whole world," he called as he dragged himself down the center of the bus toward us, "but shit, are they tiring." He, too, grabbed a beer from the small fridge and sank down onto the sofa, placing both feet up on the plastic coffee table that was screwed down to the floor in front of it. "I'm glad to be back to work to have a rest. Don't know how Marissa does it."

Mikey punched him on the arm. "Hey, Nate was just telling me how he wanted to settle down. Tell him more about how tired and bored you are. I can't lose him, too."

"Er. Those weren't actually my words, Mikey."

I rolled my eyes as I explained to Jon, "I was only saying that I wanted someone I could have a bit more than sex with. I kinda miss that part of being in a relationship."

Mikey smiled at me knowingly. "Ah, the old groupie burn-out eh?" I could feel my frustration rising. Spending so much time together on tour usually took its toll on our friendship at points—and today my patience was paper thin. I tried to keep my cool, they'd put up with enough from me recently. I'd expected Jon to have my back, but he was obviously too wiped to care.

"We need to have some fun." I decided to take a new tack, I wanted to hang out with my buddies, and I didn't want to spend the hours after tonight's show drinking alone in my hotel room. "Let's go out after the gig. Where's that place we went last time we were here?" I scratched my head, trying to recall the name of the huge super-club we'd been to. I remembered that the VIP room had a nice, chill atmosphere and a hot barmaid. Of course, Becky had been with me then so I'd been on my best behavior, but I'd still had a good time.

"Rouges!" Mikey shouted, getting to the name before me. "Yeah, it was cool in there, let's do it. Whoop, boys' night. I'll get Rob on board, he can bankroll us."

"No, no, no." Jon stood as he chugged the rest of his beer and slammed the empty bottle on the table. "Count me out. I'm going to the bunk to sleep now, and after the gig I'm sleeping some more. It's all about the sleep."

"You loser. Four days with your wife and you turn into the dullest dude on the planet," Mikey shot at him. Smooth as ever, Jon raised his middle finger as he made his way to the bunks in the center of the bus. He climbed up to his and pulled the curtains without another word.

"Touring with you guys used to be fun, you know that? Both of you have sucked this year." I couldn't deny that I'd been lousy company. Mikey and Jon were my life, my brothers. I was glad I'd suggested a night out, I needed to reconnect.

On stage that night I felt electric. I threw myself into the music. I'd missed that, I'd missed being so, present. I wasn't performing for a distraction; I was performing because I loved it, because I believed in the band, because I believed in the music. The fans were loud enough to drown us out at some points, and the sound of their collective voices gave me that addictive high, one that couldn't be matched with sex or drugs no matter how much I tried.

The chants stayed with me as I showered and changed, ready to go drinking with Mikey and Rob. I was determined to keep the high for as long as I could—like in the old days. Rob had called the club ahead of time and we were escorted straight up to the VIP room. The whole place was decorated in rich reds and gold; a few people were lounging back in the large, soft armchairs; champagne buckets in gold-sprayed stands stood next to every table and tiny spotlights in the walls gave the room a warm, cocoon-like feel. Toward the back there was a sleek, black dance floor with a DJ in a raised booth. The music was awful, it always was in places like this, but I grinned at Mikey as we chose a table. As we placed our orders with the waitress, my sub-conscious started to let me down, presenting me with images of Becky inside this same room. Her long, denim-clad legs had been crossed elegantly as she'd sat opposite me; her silver blonde hair piled high on top of her head and the blue of her eyes striking against smoky black kohl. I was vain and narcissistic, though I considered these to be good qualities in my line of work, but as I'd watched her laugh, I'd thought how great a couple we must have looked. My gorgeous, rock-chick, bitch of an ex-girlfriend.

The more I thought about her, about the pain of our split, the more convinced I became that Anna had the right idea. Having a girlfriend wasn't worth all the shit that comes with being screwed over, and I wasn't so sure I wanted to repeat the experience. Anna seemed perfect now, sure, but it'd only be a matter of time before she'd be whining about me being away all the time, or about the time I spent with fans. I was better off. I bought us all a shot of tequila and decided to spend the rest of my night with a man called Jack Daniels.

# CHAPTER 7—ANNA

I'd unwillingly opened the floodgates. Internally kicking myself—hard—I squeezed Becky's hand across our table as she sniffed over her past.

"He treated me like shit toward the end, Anna. I had to shout and scream at him just to get him to notice I was around. One night, I waited all night in a hotel room for him to come back—four in the morning, he returned. No explanation, not even a damn apology." She slammed her fist down on the table. It made me jump.

I was an idiot for bringing it up. What had I been thinking, anyway? Had I really been about to just casually mention that I was falling for her ex? The very man she was currently beating up furniture over? Stupid, stupid.

Now she was all riled up and I had run out of clichés to throw at her.

"I want to know why you bought it up. Why did you ask about him? What truth are you waiting for?" I gulped at Becky's chain of questions, knowing I was a crap liar, but having absolutely no choice, I'd have to become good at it like, fast. I fidgeted and stood from the table, poured myself a bowl of cereal on the breakfast bar, thinking that if I couldn't see her face, it'd be easier.

"Look, I'm. . .I was thinking about. . .going to the gig reminded me. . ." Say a whole sentence you dumb ass, I scolded myself. Reaching for the milk, I tried again. "Going to the gig reminded me of last year, how much fun we had. I sort of missed it, I guess. It was the best social life I'd ever had. It was just on my mind." I carried my unwanted breakfast to the table and sat back in my seat, relaxing a little now that the biggest lie was out. "It was really insensitive of me, I'm sorry." Okay, I told myself, stop now. To shut myself up, I spooned a dripping mountain of cereal into my mouth and chewed slowly, the grains crunching noisily against my teeth.

To my relief, Becky seemed to buy it. She wiped her eyes angrily. "Some way to start my day, Anna, thanks." She was still annoyed, but that was preferable to suspicious.

I kept my eyes down and allowed some time to pass before I spoke again. "What time do you think you'll finish work tomorrow?" I asked, hoping that she'd run with the subject change. Becky spent her Sunday evenings with Jason and I didn't want to intrude, but I figured arranging some time together when she got back would be a good thing to do.

I was in luck. "I'm hoping it'll be an early one. Nick's out at a charity fundraiser so he'll be leaving the office early, which, fingers crossed, means I'll get to as well."

Becky worked as an assistant to the personal assistance for Nick Raymond, owner of thirty fitness centers dotted along the east coast and was extremely busy and extremely rich. Becky worked ridiculous hours and practically ran his life, but she was paid handsomely and never seemed to get that gloomy, Sunday night dread I experienced every week. Plus, she got to work from home a lot, organizing his online calendar and taking calls. I knew her job was stressful at the best of times, but I still thought it must be awesome to be able to get paid while sitting in your pajamas.

"Well, how about me and you watch some crappy movies, order in pizza and have a night together?" I suggested, wanting to make amends for being a horrible friend and yes, okay, wanting to try and ease my guilt, too.

She sniffed again, still aggrieved, but she agreed. "Yeah, sounds nice. It feels like forever since we hung out, which is silly since we live together." I gave her a sickly smile that vanished from my face as soon as she left the room. Pushing my now-congealed breakfast away from me, I rested my head on my folded arms, closing my eyes. Becky's words kept repeating over in my mind—Nate had been a dick to her. It may have only been one side of a story I'm sure there were differing parts to, but I had seen the tears and the fights with my own eyes, right here in this apartment. Was he being honest about Becky or had I just fallen for the spiel of a man who was trying to talk me into bed?

I tried to remember those arguments, the content, the accusations, but it was all a blur. I'd been so self-absorbed at that time, shrouded in a cloak of my own anguish, I hadn't really been paying attention. Plus, the arguments used to send me scurrying to my room with fear—I hated to be around fights, I couldn't normally bear even the tiniest hint of tension, which is why my recent actions seemed so unlike me.

I could practically hear the voice of my therapist, and I had half a mind to call him, but really I knew there was no need. I'd spent long enough in that lavender scented room to know that all he'd do was ask me why I thought I'd acted the way I did. Then eventually I'd talk so much to fill the uncomfortable silence that I'd generally blurt out the answer myself with a surprised 'Oh' as it hit me. Therapy was great, but the therapist had been a waste of time; it would have been cheaper to spend an hour chatting to my reflection—and probably achieved the same result.

Without meaning to, I kept thinking of Nate. Each time I did, my stomach would flip right over, giving the same sensation of dropping from the top loop on a rollercoaster. I had a hard time pushing each thought away; they were ten-ton boulders and kept rolling back in. I carried on pushing. I would not allow myself to daydream. Not about the grey and black shading of the band's logo tattooed on his forearm, not about the way his skin had felt beneath my fingertip as I'd lightly traced over the outline—firm and soft as silk. Not about his breath, hot and sweet against my cheek as we'd held each other. Not about the graze of stubble that had felt like pinpricks on my top lip when we kissed. No, Anna. STOP. I bashed the sides of my face with clenched fists, trying to beat the thoughts away. I battled with myself for the whole day and must have checked my phone a thousand times. Climbing into bed that night, I was drained.

***

I dragged myself to work, settling into my cubicle in the vast room, alongside hundreds of other corporate sheep. My best work friend, Rachel, came rushing in ten minutes after me. Her dirty blonde hair was still wet at the back and her face flushed red as our supervisor gave her a narrow-eyed look. I giggled at her—Rachel was as bad at Monday mornings as I was. We had been thrown together by cubicle proximity and a shared hatred of our jobs. Between calls, we'd promise ourselves in hushed tones that this was just a stop-gap while we found the career of our dreams. The problem was, Rachel's stop-gap had been a year. Mine was coming up on two.

I rarely saw Rachel out of work, but I loved her company while we were there. I leaned over to her once she'd sat down.

"Just so you've got a heads up, I told my best friend that I was at a Chance gig with you on Friday," I whispered to her. I was ashamed of myself, I knew there was little to no likelihood that she'd run into Becky, they'd only met briefly the one time, I'd brought it up as an indulgence, an opportunity to covertly talk about Nate.

Rachel's smile showed every one of her perfectly straight teeth. "You bad girl. What were you really doing then?" I squirmed, excited that she had bitten.

"I was at the Chance gig. But I told Becky I'd gone with you." I waited as she considered my news.

"Didn't she used to date the lead singer of that band? Nate Sullivan, isn't it? Why did you have to use me as an alibi?"

"Because since they split, she wants nothing to do with them, and I had to find an excuse to go, so I said you'd got us tickets." As the words left my mouth, I thought of how it all sounded a bit childish, really.

Rachel's eyes turned serious. "You're not getting with any of them, are you?" Yes, yes, yes, I wanted to yell. I wanted to tell her—anyone—everything. I wanted to ask her if she thought I was being awful. I wanted to ask her if I should follow my heart or listen to my head. I wanted to ask if she thought I could ever trust a man like Nate. In a way, she answered my questions without even asking.

"They look like a bunch of douches to me. I don't know how Becky coped with it all in the first place. Have you seen them this morning? Splashed all over the paper—falling out of nightclubs with their arms around girls who are far too young for them. Give me Michael Bublé anytime, wouldn't catch him behaving like a teenager." Rachel climbed off her soap box to stab at the phone, answering a call with a sugary, "How can I help you today?"

My jaw dropped, I didn't even bother to hide the shock as Rachel's words hit me. In a flash, I was online looking up the article. As bright as day, there was the photograph of Nate and Mikey. The image was grainy and bad quality, but I could see Nate leaning in to an elfin looking girl with short black hair. It seemed like he was whispering in her ear, her head thrown back in laughter. My blood turned to ice in my veins—all those things he'd said to me, it had been total rubbish. Still, I made excuses for him in my head; Becky used to say the papers printed lies all the time, she ignored them all when they were together. She used to say that you could not make a conclusion about someone's entire night based on the snapshot of a second. But these excuses were coming from my unreliable heart. Logic told me that this was who Nate was—a wild, uncontrollable celebrity with a penchant for pretty girls and whiskey. How had I ever believed that he could fall for me?

I passed my work day on autopilot, forcing myself into small talk with Rachel, trying to save the over-analyzing for when I could be alone. I mainly felt annoyed with myself for having been sucked in so easily, but there was the tiny chirping of optimism, too, a chink of hope that I couldn't quash. Because if Nate had just been treating me like any other girl he wanted, why hadn't we had sex? Why, then, had we had tenderness and intimacy—things that guys just don't do if they are looking for a quick and easy lay?

It was impossible to truly see the good in someone when the only thing you hears about them was the bad, and I so desperately wanted to see the good. Should I take heed of the warnings and be glad I dodged a bullet, or take the risk to act on my feelings?

# CHAPTER 8—NATE

I had to admit, I'd had fun last night. It was fun induced by alcohol and superfans, sure, but I'd still enjoyed soaking up their worshiping praise and crying with laughter at Mikey as he collected his women. I'd been free, unconcerned. Anna had been forgotten, replaced by the easy thrills that came with being in a band. Free booze, gorgeous woman and exclusive access to anywhere. I'd kissed a few simpering fans, more for the effect on them than sexual pleasure. It gave me faint amusement that a kiss from me, some dork with a guitar, could turn well respected, grown women into gigging wrecks.

The hollow feeling started to creep back as I stretched out on my hotel bed. That seeping dissatisfaction I couldn't escape from. Momentarily, I wondered if I was depressed, if I needed to be on some sort of medication to help with my mood. I rubbed my hands over my face realizing that was probably a bit dramatic. Drugs wouldn't make me less miserable, it was my state of mind I needed to change, and last night had proved that. It had been like our first tour—no girlfriends, no responsibility—reveling in the attention rather than trying to avoid it. I'd felt young again, fresh and ready for life. So what was with the hole in the pit of my stomach now, the persistent sense of unfulfillment?

With a sudden spark of inspiration, I jumped out of bed and opened my laptop on the desk across the room. Misery was a perfect muse, so I decided to use it. My fingers flew over the keyboard as I typed out lyrics to a new song, not thinking about what I wrote, just allowing the words to stream out of my head and onto the monitor. After a couple of hours, I sat back to read it through. It was possibly the best thing I'd written in well over a year and I finally felt something I'd not had for that whole time—pride.

People used to tell me to write about the hurt following my break up with Becky but I wasn't able to. It was too raw, too personal. You can't write about something well when you are tripping over thick branches of emotion. It becomes heavy and meaningless to everyone else. But when nothing happens, when you are caught in an abyss of apathetic despair, well, from my writing, it certainly seemed as though it worked for me. I shot off the lyrics to Mikey and Jon before getting up from my hunched position over the table. I was ravenous, and picked up my cell to see if the guys wanted to get a bite to eat somewhere.

I was surprised to see the little envelope icon. I'd been so engrossed in my work that I hadn't heard my message tone. My surprise deepened when I saw who it was from.

Looks like you've been having fun. Did you mean any of what you said, about me being different, how you couldn't stop thinking about me? I just have to know.

The brightness I'd had after writing the song turned to black like someone had flicked off a switch. Women were impossible. Impulsively, I slammed out a reply.

If I remember correctly, you were the one who said that we couldn't do this and after Saturday that would be it. You wanted me to drop it and I did. So now who doesn't mean what they say?

I was fuming. Fuming that I'd let myself nearly fall for a girl who had brushed me aside so easily, who hadn't been able to fight for what she wanted. And fuming because I was still the one accused of being an asshole when all I'd done was what she had goddamn well asked me to.

A couple of minutes went by, and then my phone rang. I sighed as I picked up.

"For God's sake, Anna. It was you who wanted to leave it. You, not me. Why are you giving me shit?" There was a pause on the other end and, though I felt bad about going in so hard, I had to release this pent up irritation.

"Did you sleep with that girl? The one in the photograph?" Her words were stern and moody and completely out of order, but hearing her voice turned me to mush.

"What photograph?" I was genuinely confused, I never bothered to look at the tabloids these days, they were so full of bullshit. I did have a memory of some paparazzi hanging outside the club—Mikey and I had been very likely to have been with fans, we always were when we went out. "I'm guessing it's one printed in a crappy paper from last night? Not that it's any of your business, but for your information I didn't sleep with that girl in the photo. I didn't sleep with any girl. But I'm probably going to at some point in my life. Anna, I can't just not get on with things. You didn't want me, I left you alone. You can't give me grief about a photo in a paper after you blew me out." I said all this very calmly, despite thinking that she was being excessively unreasonable.

"I can't get you out of my head, Nate. I didn't want to turn you away. I don't want to deny myself. But it feels so difficult. You've got to understand, Becky is—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, she's your friend. You said a million times," I interrupted her, irritation returning.

"I would never be able to tell her. Everything we did would have to be in secret and I don't know if I could ever trust you." Anna rushed the last sentence as if she had built up a lot of courage to get it out. I thought about my next move, this was the same old thing I'd heard again and again and I was tired of going over it.

"I can't prove trust to you with words—you know I can't—and I don't see why I have to if you're not prepared to give me a chance in the first place. But if you are, I would try and prove it to you through actions." I cringed at the tacky line.

Hearing from her had really made me want to see her again. I was making promises I wasn't sure about. I didn't know if I'd ever be able to be the person she deserved, didn't know if I liked myself enough to be. All I knew was that I liked her, I really liked her, and I had no control over that. Anna went quiet for a long time while I paced the length of my room. It had sounded like she was willing to see me, albeit in secret, but I'd take it, it was better than not at all.

"Do you think you'd be able to come see me sometime this week? Without anyone knowing?" She sounded shy and adorable. I smiled, reassured that I'd won her over.

"I'll try. I'm not sure of the schedule but I can look later on. I want to see you," I added, quite honestly, before we hung up.

Being with someone, sharing my day, my world with someone, was what I wanted most of the time. But I'd been screwed over. Not just by Becky, but by the others before her too, and it had made me vengeful and cautious. Anna had been the first crack to have appeared in my armor and it worried me. It worried me that I wanted these things, but when I got them I would start to feel as though I'd be losing myself. There'd always be a sacrifice and that sacrifice would always have to come from me—they wouldn't trust me to go out with the guys or be on tour alone, and then ultimately, I was the one getting my feelings trampled all over when they left. I gave my heart easily, at least I had in the past, but I was always waiting for that conversation, those pointed fingers, the breakdown of trust. It was infuriating. A lot of the girls I'd dated had been fans of the band, they knew exactly what they'd been getting themselves into—yet it always appeared to be a huge surprise to them. I never understood.

I'd meant it when I told Anna that she was different. She had been. She'd seemed like she was less high-maintenance, more understanding. I hoped to God that phone call hadn't been a sign of things to come, because then, she'd sounded just like the rest.

I met Mikey and Jon for food before the show, they were full of praise about the song I'd sent earlier. Jon was so impressed that I'd appeared to have gotten my creative mojo back, he didn't even raise his eyebrow at the beer I ordered with my meal. I relaxed in myself slightly, feeling as though I were less on the periphery of my life.

Having had my self-esteem restored, first by Anna and then by the guys, a small piece of my arrogance returned. I welcomed it. It was a necessary front to be able to play, perform and present the way I did. I felt more comfortable being the lead singer of Chance than I did being Nate Sullivan, and I was relieved that the former had grown a little stronger today.

"Hey. Do you guys know where we're headed this week?" I aimed my question at Jon; he was pretty good at remembering our upcoming locations, I assumed because of having to organize time to see the kids.

As expected, he reeled off our next five shows from memory, but I hadn't really been asking for that. I'd wanted to know when we were off so I could sneak a visit to Anna. In my dressing room that night, I sent her a quick message.

Think you could get Thursday off work? I can come to you or fly you out? Your choice. It was perfunctory and emotionless, I wasn't about to open myself up again so easily this time.

When she replied, I got a tingle of anticipation I couldn't suppress. Thursday it was then, I thought with a grin. Steady Nate, she's almost floored you once. Slow down, I told myself.

In the crowd that night, right against the barriers at the front, I saw the same girl I'd picked out to come backstage at an earlier show but had decided against taking her back to the hotel. While I gave her my best intense stare from behind the mic, I wracked my brains trying to think of her name. Alice—it came to me at once. She didn't have my face on her t-shirt this time; instead she was wearing a tight, v neck vest top with the band's logo adorned on it, the top of her breasts curved like rising suns from the open neckline. Mikey was right, she was smoking hot. She stood out from the crowd once again by her total stillness. Where others jostled and moshed and bounced beside her, she stood her ground, pinning me down with her steady gaze, like she was challenging me to something. I thought of Anna. Then I thought of Nate Sullivan, the man I was trying to run from, and I accepted Alice's challenge.

# CHAPTER 9—ANNA

I hugged my phone to my chest, heart pounding with excitement and the thrill of our clandestine meeting. I walked around my room, replaying the conversation in my head. I'd been way more assertive than I'd ever known myself to be. As soon as I'd seen that newspaper article, as soon as the slightest doubt had peeked through my consciousness, I'd known I'd have to see him again. The pull toward him was too strong to ignore and I didn't think I would be able to look at any more photos of him living his life without feeling satisfied that I'd at least tried.

I wanted to take it super slowly, I didn't want him to hurt me, but all I thought about were the words he'd said to me that night under the streetlamps and the stars. He'd said I was different, and I believed he meant it, now I needed him to prove it.

What I'd just done was basically agree to betray my friend, this would all have to be done behind her back—that part of it didn't feel good. But for now, I had to push it into a box at the very back of my mind. I'd deal with that when I had a clearer idea of what I was doing, what I was getting in to. For this instant, I had no idea.

Becky was obviously running late at the office and I was grateful for the extra time to myself. Daydreaming about the coming Thursday, I paced around my room as I imagined Nate with me, the butterflies inside on overdrive, while I thought about what might happen, what I was on the cusp of embarking on.

My ex had wanted me to live as conventionally as possible, on the surface of it. He had wanted us to project the image of a perfect couple with the perfect life. We both went to work Monday to Friday, I did the cooking and the cleaning, he put up shelves and fixed squeaky doors in our small apartment. Peter had been after a 1950s existence, and he'd had a 1950s attitude to match. I'd felt more and more suffocated by him as time had gone by—his need for perfection, then subsequently my need to reach his expectations, my need to feel good enough for him. My wings had been clipped down more each day and it was only recently that they'd started to grow back. I could feel myself breaking free from the memory of the chains he'd tied me in. But at what cost? At the cost of my one true friendship? The cost of my nearly restored heart?

I was acting impulsively, allowing my feelings to completely rule my decisions as well as my actions. Despite the potential for this all to go horribly wrong, the risk of it all, the sheer selfishness of it came with a tingle of joy that reminded me of being a teenager again.

I was jolted out of my rumination by the door slamming and Becky shouting out to me. The tangled daisies imprinted on my bedcovers had been smoothed down to within an inch of their life as I'd got lost in my thoughts.

"Hey. Good day at the office?" I asked her. There was no waver in my voice, no slamming of guilt. I wanted to indulge in this secret so badly; I'd finally pushed myself into being someone who deceives smoothly. I didn't want to think about that too deeply.

Becky opened one of our glass-fronted cupboards and reached for a glass. She ran the tap to pour herself some water and leaned onto the breakfast bar. "It was okay. I'm looking forward to chilling out with you tonight though." She stood upright again. "It's actually nice to have a night away from Jason. I'm gonna take my make-up off, wear my scruffiest and most comfy sweats and totally slob out. It's tiring being in a new relationship."

I laughed, understanding completely what she meant. "Yep, it's hard work. But you must know each other well enough by now? Or are you still sneaking out of bed before he wakes up to fix your face?"

"Good God no, I can't be bothered with that, but I don't think we're at the stage where I can reveal the side of me that will surround myself in junk food and not move from the couch for eight hours." She sniggered. "That, my friend, is what you have the sole delight of witnessing." She moved around the kitchen toward the hallway, unbuttoning her suit jacket as she walked. "I'm going to make myself more comfortable. Do you wanna order a pizza?"

"On it," I called after her. I opened the kitchen drawer where we kept our take out menus and rummaged for the right one. Over on the kitchen table my cell vibrated loudly, the buzz echoing against the wood. I swooped on it excitedly.

Can't wait to see you, the message read. I grinned inanely at the screen.

"What do you look so happy about?" Becky asked as she breezed back through to the lounge. I nearly dropped my phone in shock.

"Oh. Nothing. Nothing, just a stupid joke from Rachel at work," I stuttered, unprepared for the cover up. I wanted to reply before he went on stage. I wanted to read the message again—it was the first time he'd given me any hint of real interest since we'd said goodbye that night, but I couldn't do it so blatantly in front of Becks. I turned the vibration off and set the cell face down back on the table, trying very hard to make sure everything I did was as I normally would.

Becky sprawled along the couch, her long, slender legs stretched out while she stabbed the remote control at the TV. I picked up the folded paper menu from the kitchen.

"Usual?" I asked her.

She considered a moment. "You know what? I want something different. What about the Mexican spiced one?"

I scanned the menu. Normally, we'd order a pepperoni with garlic bread sticks—always. On this occasion, I had to agree with my friend—I was in the mood to try something different too, it was becoming my philosophy these days.

Becky and I happily debated movie choices while we waited for our food, eventually deciding on a dark thriller, I'd let her have the final say. As she got up to collect the delivery, I couldn't resist any longer and swiped my phone from the table, checking it quickly.

There were no more messages; I was dying to send a reply to Nate but instead clicked to send the screen dark as she approached, balancing a tower of cardboard boxes. I tucked the cell under one of the cushions I was sitting on and made a space for the food to be spread out on the long coffee table in front of the couch.

The movie was ridiculously bad and we giggled our way through it as we ate, our conversation no more intense than the odd comment on the poor acting and the hotness of the male lead. If it hadn't been for the burning itch to use my cell the whole time, I'd have thoroughly enjoyed the time spent with my best friend—it almost felt like the old days.

"So what's up with you?" Becky asked me once the credits started to roll. "You've been checking your cell like—" She trailed off, realization transforming her face into one of pleased shock. "Have you met a boy, Anna?"

My first emotion was fear. I thought I'd been so careful, checking my phone covertly. Clearly not. The next was mild panic. I had no idea what to tell her. If I had a group of friends or a normal social life like any other person, I could have had a casual reply at the ready. Becky however, was fully aware of my pathetic non-life. I didn't know what to say.

"I'm tracking something I ordered online," I blurted out of nowhere. My mouth had acted completely independently of my brain and I was slightly taken aback.

"Ooo, what'd you order? Anything good?"

Oh fabulous. Well done, mouth. Now what?

"It's for your birthday so keep your nose out." The lie kept coming and I sweetened it with a smile.

"Wow, you're organized. My birthday's not for two months." She looked impressed rather than suspicious and my heart rate calmed a little.

"Anyway. How are things? All good between you and Jason?" I needed the focus off of me or I was going to pass out from the pressure.

Becky sighed and lifted her arms above her head in a stretch. "Things are good. I just—it's just taken some getting used to, being in a relationship with a man who's willing to act like a grown up." She put her arms back down and absent mindedly chewed on a bread stick. "Don't get me wrong, it's good. Last week, when he went out with some of his colleagues, he actually got home when he said he was going to. He sticks to things; he makes arrangements for weeks ahead. He treats me right."

"But—" I encouraged, I could hear hesitation in her voice.

"No buts. I'm simply adjusting to having a functional boyfriend." She flashed me a wide smile that for some reason I didn't believe. It may have been because while everything she had described sounded nice, it also sounded like the exact thing I was trying so hard to avoid. She seemed content, though. I guessed Becky and I were as opposite in outlook now as we were in looks, and this made me feel suddenly sad.

"Is it better than—than before?" The question was out before I even had a chance to stop it. This whole thing appeared to have totally disconnected my brain-to-mouth communication. Becky flung back her head and looked to the sky, exasperated.

"What is with you to keep bringing up the past? I want to forget about it and move on, something you should definitely have a go at. Look," she splayed her fingers in front of me, as if to signify that she was laying it all down, "Nate made me unhappy. Jason makes me happy. You need to look forward in life, Anna, not back."

I hung my head, ashamed at myself for persisting to bring it up. I really hadn't meant to, but even after all her insistence, I still had a suspicion that Becky hadn't told me everything, and if I was about to get involved with him I needed to know what I was getting myself into. Whenever Nate's name or their previous relationship got mentioned, it was almost as though she was too unwilling to talk about it, too defensive. Up until a couple of weeks ago, I spoke to her about Peter all the time—it was that shared empathy that helped me to move on. How come her break-up was off limits? The mystery was infuriating and un-necessary.

The next time she went to the bathroom, I texted Nate back quickly. I'd already spent the entire night drafting the reply in my head.

I'm looking forward to seeing you too. Have a good show tonight.

Okay, so it was hardly the text message version of Romeo and Juliet, but my guard was still up. I had to be careful not to sound too desperate, I didn't want to get too involved yet either. I trusted my instinct that there was still much I didn't yet know. While I yearned for excitement, I didn't want it by handing over my feelings in a glass box. I needed him to give me a bit more assurance that box wouldn't be easily smashed. While I wasn't after a major commitment from him, I also didn't want to put so much on the line for someone who, quite frankly, wouldn't be worth it.

# CHAPTER 10—NATE

I'd only taken Alice onto the tour bus. I didn't want her anywhere near the hotel, anywhere that anyone could see, and I hadn't enjoyed even one second of her company. When she left, I sat on my bottom bunk alone in the dark for a long time, just thinking.

She'd been a sweet enough girl—beautiful, yes, and oh so very grateful—but what I'd just done made me feel a little sick to my stomach. I tried to find an explanation for it, but for all I'd used her to escape the man behind the music, now he was all I was left with; this shallow, bitter, angry shell, an excuse for a person. Anna's face floated into my mind's eye. Her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a silk waterfall, the depth in the black pools of her eyes. But I had no need to feel that guilty, the promise I'd made her about trust was conditional, we'd made no exclusivity arrangement. She didn't even want her best friend to know, so as far as I was concerned, that made me a free agent.

I shook my head at the tough talk going on in my mind. I was fiercely building defense barriers, and yet every time I spoke to her, or even thought of her, a few of those bricks would come tumbling off of that wall. Deep down, I suspected that I wasn't very nice. Sure, I hid it well when in direct contact with others, but I honestly didn't like myself very much. My biggest fear was that she would be exposed to the real me—the one I was hiding—and when she was, she'd run a mile, like all the others had.

I stuck my forehead against the cold, tinted window of the bus and looked out. It was quiet. There wasn't even any crew around, the rigging trucks having already left for the next venue. I had no idea where Mikey, Jon or Rob were, probably at the hotel, maybe a bar. I was glad for the stillness of the night outside and decided that it was probably dead enough for me to walk back to the hotel. My phone's GPS said it was 45 minutes away on foot. Perfect. I hesitated near the kitchen area before I left, wondering if I should take a couple beers for the journey, then decided against it. I needed to spend time with myself—my real self—and maybe figure out where I was going so wrong.

Setting a steady beat for myself with my boots against the asphalt, the walk took less time than I'd expected and I was back to the hotel much quicker than I'd thought I would be. I felt marginally better with the fresh air on my skin and the solitude of night, but I still ducked past the bar, just in case Mikey was in there and called me for a drink. Up in my room, I made my eyes take everything in—I didn't want to keep taking it all for granted.

As it turned out, the hotel was pretty old and underneath the clean surfaces were signs of wear. There was torn wallpaper behind the chair, flakes of peeling paint on some patches of the ceiling. The carpet was a faded, looped design in grey and red that made my vision go if I stared at it for too long. The bed was just a normal double, rather than the usual king, and there were only two slightly puckered satin cushions propped up near the pillows, as opposed to the standard twenty or so I'd normally have to chuck onto the floor.

I liked it. It was more like the hotels we used to stay in on our first tour, when I'd been at peace with myself. I liked the disillusioned, seen-it-all interior more than the extravagant and the plushness of our normal stops, and I crept under the blankets fully dressed, wanting oblivion and finding it in sleep.

***

The next few days passed in a blur, I heard no more from Anna, nor did I contact her. Not until Thursday morning, the day I'd been secretly counting down to. I had a radio interview just before lunch, so I let her know that I'd be with her by late afternoon. My message was matter-of-fact and so was her reply. This leaked further insecurity—I almost preferred the over-attentive jealousy that I got from women. The nonchalance made her hard to read, it made it hard for me to feel secure. I couldn't tell how she really felt and it made me nervous.

I'd booked a room ten minutes away from her apartment and told her to meet me there. I'd purposely chosen a hotel that was of a lower standard than usual. The rough edges of the room I'd stayed in before had made me feel comfortable, I didn't want flashy or over the top. I just wanted a place to hang out with her. I couldn't care less about thread count.

She was already there when I opened the door. Sitting on the edge of the bed swinging her legs, she looked round and greeted me with a shy smile. Among the beige décor and the white linen, she shone like a rainbow on a grey day. It seemed awkward at first, I found it hard to smile in return, feeling a bit choked for some reason. She stood slowly as I crossed the room to her, dropping my bag on the floor. Not sure what else to do, and unable to make sense of how she was making me feel, I wrapped my arms around her.

There, in that touch, it began to fall into place. The awkwardness vanished and all my attention and energy focused on one thing—her. She held me tightly, her frame tiny in my arms and it just felt right, like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. We pulled apart slightly and I kissed her, her lips were soft and warm and met mine tenderly.

Breaking off breathlessly, I had to pull away before the want for her became too much. I ran my thumb down the side of her face, our noses touching.

"Hi," I whispered.

"Hi back," she replied, moving her hands to rest on my shoulders. I wanted to start some witty conversation but nothing would come to me. The atmosphere was too loaded, and we ended up just drinking each other in without speaking. My breath started to quicken as I looked at her. I stroked every part of her face, running my fingertip along the curve of her nose and over her lips, which she parted slightly. Eventually, the urge became impossible and we started kissing again, panting hot breath into each other's mouths as she tugged on my hair. I placed my hands on either side of her curvaceous hips and pulled her into me, knowing that she'd be able to feel the hardening shape beneath my trousers as my desire for her grew.

She writhed herself against me and I couldn't stop from moaning. Kissing along the side of her face and sucking gently on her earlobe, she made me harder still by groaning softly as she tilted her head back. I couldn't take anymore. I lifted her top over her head and deftly unhooked her bra. She struggled with my t-shirt, which I flung off my body to the floor. We both paused for a single beat, breathing hard, taking in one another's half-naked frames. The building tension in that second was like the stillness in the eye of the storm and it took one more breath before we were yanked by the force of it.

Our lips met once again, hard, our teeth clashing as the need became urgent, desperate. She fumbled with the button on my leather pants as I dug my fingers into her back. Stripping me of my clothes, she then clasped me firmly in her palm, watching me steadily. I gasped at the sensation coupled with her gaze and was momentarily rendered immobile, the sexiness overwhelming. Realizing I needed to go easy, I pulled her arms down to her sides while I removed her jeans, needing a second to gather myself, needing this to slow down. Picking her up, she wrapped her legs around my back as I lay her down on the bed, leaning over her, just watching her face.

She lifted her pelvis up to me and I felt myself quiver with the anticipation. Not yet, not yet, I said internally. I wanted to experience more of her first. Still above her, I balanced my weight on one arm while I snaked the other down between her thighs. Her skin felt like liquid silk to touch and her wetness made my eyes close involuntarily at the eroticism of her desire. I forced them open again, wanting to see her. As I dipped the tip of my finger inside, she sharply inhaled. I circled her bud and delighted in making her legs part wider, she was inviting me in.

"I need you now." Her voice was thick, raw. I carried on massaging as slowly as I could bear. Bending down to kiss her, she grabbed my head in her hands and pulled me down, raising her hips as high as she could, crying out into my mouth.

"Nate. Please," She begged, grinding against my fingers. Her legs started to tremble against the side of my torso and I couldn't hold back any longer. I entered her with a gruff moan, her moist hotness tight around me. Moving together, we gyrated in an opposite motion. I tried to move as slowly as I could, wanting her satisfaction before mine. She breathed loudly in my ear, each exhale a small, soft groan. She clawed at my ass cheeks, pushing me in deeper, the groans increasing in volume and frequency. As I was concentrating hard to stop myself finishing too early, she suddenly shuddered and I felt her spasm violently underneath me. It was too much, too sexy, and I exploded inside of her, holding her as tight as I could while we both convulsed in ecstasy.

As we both started to get our breath back, Anna started to giggle. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her eyes bright as she laughed and I started to laugh with her. It felt really, really good. After all the intensity, all the build up, it was great to just let go. It felt like the simplest happiness in the world.

After a while, Anna lay her head on my chest. I draped my arm around her and stroked her shoulder as we were quietly absorbed in our own thoughts. This was where I started to feel the worry. I was so at one with myself around her; it was like she had put me back together by her mere presence. I'd never been with someone who had the potential of having so much power over me.

"This is going to have to be kept between us for a while," Anna said, not moving from her position.

"Well, this has only just started. I need it to be slow anyway, so that's fine by me. I'll be your dirty little secret," I joked. But she didn't laugh and neither did I. I didn't think I would be able to cope thinking that one day she may turn to me and say that Becky was her biggest priority, that she wouldn't see me again. I had no idea how she felt about me, and there was no way I was going to ask—my self-esteem couldn't survive if the news was negative. I found it hard to believe that she didn't feel the same way I did. This connection we had was palpable, I was certain. But I'd made mistakes before by going on assumptions, and I wasn't going to do it again. Every time I saw Anna, I fell a little harder—I needed to stop.

# CHAPTER 11—ANNA

He was game playing, I wasn't certain, I just sensed it somehow. How could I feel so emotionally close to someone while so far away at same time? His comment about him wanting to take it slow—it just didn't seem like he'd meant it. I was probably clutching at straws, but as I lay there on his bare chest I just knew, somehow, that he felt more for me than he was letting on. I wanted to tell him that I didn't want to take things slowly, that I wanted to be consumed by him during every waking minute but I kept my mouth shut. Following the outline of his tattoos with my fingertips, I moved from his chest and across to his arm, the inked sleeve an intricate weave of thistles and ivy with the band's logo underneath the artistic foliage, blending in between the twisted leaves and vines.

Once I felt I could trust him, once he proved that he was more than just wild child, then I could be honest. To myself and to him. It would have to start with the truth though, the real story about him and Becky, or his version of it, I reminded myself, not wanting to accuse my best friend straight away without knowing the details. Nate had insinuated that there was more to it than I knew, and I had to admit, I was hoping that this would contain the information I needed to be able to convince me that he wasn't as bad as Becky had made out, and that perhaps I could trust him enough to, well, I was getting ahead of myself. I had to remember, too, that if he ever told me—as it seemed that Becky was never going to say—it would just be his side of the story. His perspective.

Now, however, was certainly not the time. I wasn't going to be able to spend all night here, no matter how much I wanted to. Sneaking out for the night when Becky was at Jason's was one thing, but if she happened to get home early or woke before I got back the next morning—Anna Freeman did not stay out all night and Becky knew that. It would've been impossible to explain and I didn't want to have to deal with that situation.

"How about we get some food, eat it in bed and just stay here for the whole night? I don't want to let you go," Nate said, squeezing me into him. Oh God, I just felt so fuzzy inside when he said stuff like that. What was that? Happiness? I could quite easily get addicted to it, it felt awesome and a long time coming.

"That sounds like the best plan ever. I want to stay Nate I really do, but it's—"

He shushed me by kissing the top of my head. "It's okay. You don't have to explain. I'm not gonna give you a hard time about it. We'll just have to deal with it for the moment."

There. Right there. That understanding, the softness in his tone. That was the kind of thing that made me consider that perhaps this could be the start of something.

"How did you manage to get off work?" he asked, flipping over and facing me, one of his hands casually draped across my hip.

"Er, I called in sick. Told them that I thought I was coming down with flu." It was one of the most nerve-wracking experiences of my life. I'd never faked illness to blow off work before; it just wasn't part of my nature. Mostly, I was scared my dad would find out for some ludicrous reason, impossible seeing as he and Mom had moved to England five years ago. But my dad's philosophy was that if you're still breathing, you can get out and work—his tolerance to illness was zero. I'd grown up thinking that dodging work was just about the most heinous crime in the world. During the phone call to my supervisor, my hands had been shaking with fright, but when I'd put the phone down, I'd been exhilarated. I'd just bought myself a four day weekend.

Nate chuckled. "You naughty girl. Got involved with a boy in a band and now you're lying to your employers. What's next?"

Nate's words gave me an excited shiver. What was next indeed? I was enjoying the new, reckless me and the life it had opened up.

The two of us spent our entire time in bed, with Nate only putting board shorts on to answer the door to room service, the rest of the time we were naked. I'd never been as comfortable with my body as I was around him. He made me feel confident and desired. I didn't even cover up when I went to use the bathroom. It was such a novelty not to feel judged or the slightest bit vulnerable. He was constantly complimentary and set me at total ease. The shy, nervous girl who had finally walked away from Peter seemed like a memory of someone else.

We talked and talked, getting to know each other, our fingers interlaced, our legs entwined. He admitted to me that he sometimes put on his Batman costume for no other reason than to pose in front of the mirror. I told him that I had to watch cheesy dance movies alone so that I could try and copy the steps. We compared favorite movies, top five songs—purposefully disagreeing with each other's choices and having faux arguments that ended with him tickling me until I thought I'd pass out. We laughed until we cried and by the time I got up to leave, I had to clench my fists into balls to physically stop myself from latching onto him and never letting go.

I literally just made it home. Approximately one full minute after I'd walked through the apartment door, Becky sauntered in. She stopped in the hallway when she saw me. I was mid-step to my room, hand on the knob, frozen in position by her entrance.

"Where have you been?" She frowned at me.

I swallowed. "Oh, nowhere." I tried to move my facial muscles into an expression that didn't convey abject horror. "I was thinking about going for ice cream but changed my mind. It looks too cold out."

She moved slowly, placing her keys on the hook by the door and shrugging out of her coat. I screamed at myself to move, to go into my room, do something but gawk at her.

Becky's frown remained as she passed me to get to the kitchen. "What's wrong with you? You're being weird. You look. . .guilty."

Oh God. My knees weakened. All my bravado of earlier—my cocky swagger after getting out of work, my parading around with no clothes on—gone. I was reduced to my usual, mousy timidity at the first hint of confrontation. I laughed off her question. "I'm not being weird, just indecisive." She flicked the switch on the kettle, keeping one eye on me still hovering in the hall outside my room, a frown crinkling one of her brows.

I tried to twist the handle on my door so I could go and compose myself, but my hand wouldn't move. I could feel a horrifyingly familiar tightening in my chest and I leaned against the door to steady myself as I took slow, deep breaths. In and out. Like I'd been taught, like I'd done a million times before. It was too late, an iron fist seemed to clamp around my windpipe and my heart galloped off at an alarming speed. Panic swept me away. I dropped to my knees, clutching the floor while sweat started to pour from me in rivers. I cried and gasped for air. This was a bad one. I felt as though I was really going to die this time. I couldn't breathe. My whole body was cold and shaking, and I was frozen to the spot, staring blindly at the floorboards as salty drops ran down my forehead.

I heard the shout as though I were listening from underwater, it was muffled and fuzzy. I couldn't call out, couldn't talk. My eyes darted wildly from left to right. I felt like I was dying, I needed help. Vaguely, I recognized Becky's voice. She might have been calling my name, but the blood rushing through my ears made it hard to tell. Then, warm hands were on me, moving my limbs. I felt the cool hardness of the wood floor against my cheek and realized I was being put in the recovery position. The panic receded half a notch—I liked the recovery position, it made me feel safe, it was easier to suck in oxygen through my ragged lungs. Sweat soaked hair was pushed gently from my eyes as Becky's face blurred before me. She knew I calmed quicker in the recovery position. My anxiety moved down another notch—she wouldn't let me die.

My pulse started to slow as my vision returned to normal. I was drenched in sweat for the second time that day, the first having had been way more fun than this. Although Becks had seen me have numerous anxiety attacks, I was still embarrassed by it.

"Are you feeling better now, sweetie?" she asked me, stroking my hair. "I thought these attacks had pretty much stopped these days, what happened?"

I sat up slowly, cringing. "I dunno." I shrugged. "Like always, it just came out of nowhere. Sorry. Bet that's the last thing you felt like doing. Thanks for taking care of me. Again."

Becky helped me to my feet and picked up my bag off the floor, leading me into my bedroom. "It's not a problem, you know that. Why don't you get some rest?"

I put the lamp on, flooding the room in a fuzzy, yellow light and hugged my friend tightly. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I repeated to her in my head. I couldn't have felt any crappier about what I was doing behind her back. I wished so hard that I could just not feel anything for Nate, that I could turn it off, but it had gone too far now.

I had almost forgotten about my problems, I'd been actually living my life, having fun. This had been a harsh slap in the face. A not-so-gentle reminder that my history had left me with wounds that had yet to heal. A not-so-gentle reminder that without Becky, God knows where I'd have ended up. I wouldn't have come this far, for sure. Having my parents across the other side of the world, Becky had become my whole family.

This thing with Nate, it was nothing I'd ever had with anyone else. It was everything I'd ever wanted, and yet it came at such a price.

"Okay. You are acting real strange tonight." Becky laughed as she peeled my arms from around her. "Get some sleep and feel better tomorrow."

I swallowed as she left me, closing the door gently behind her and rubbed my hands over my face. My skin was still burning from my incident in the hallway and I opened my window to allow an icy wave of nighttime air to wash over me. The empty street looked like an abandoned film set and made me feel lonely. I wanted Nate. Becky was the one who had always been there for me, but now, I only wanted Nate. It was then that the clinginess of my hug with Becky started to make sense, my sub-conscious had known before I had, but I think I had been preparing to say goodbye.

# CHAPTER 12—NATE

"Hey. Where the hell were you yesterday?" Jon climbed onto the bus, threw his things onto one of the bunks and fell back on the couch. I was wearing ear buds and pointedly took each one out once he'd sat down.

"You know how annoying it is to have someone speak to you when you've got earphones in?" I asked, only half joking.

"Whatever. I'm just checking up on you. You've had a tough year and I don't feel like I've seen you much on this tour. What's up?" I knew he meant well, but lately, though, Jon had become less of a friend and more of a judging eye. I felt scrutinized by him rather than supported.

"I've been around and we hung out the other day so get off my back. You've been the one busy with the family-man stuff." I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth, I hadn't meant to sound bitter, but I was so disconnected from my friend right now. He didn't seem to understand me and I no longer understood him.

"You're turning into a little bitch, you know that? Some of us have a life outside this band y'know?" He turned his back on me and pulled out his MP3, sticking the buds in his ears and closing his eyes. I was under no doubt that the action was to prove a point. I got it, but couldn't find it within myself to make amends. Even though I was in the wrong, it didn't stop me from being super irritated with him, with the world. The only time I'd come close to feeling even half normal was when Anna was with me and that just wasn't right. I couldn't rely on something so unpredictable to make me feel like a whole person again.

As the landscape blurred past the window, I started to feel shitty about the way I'd treated Jon. I was mad at myself and I'd taken it out on one of my oldest friends—I really didn't like the person I was becoming. I didn't want to be pushing him away, he didn't deserve it, and I wasn't doing myself any favors by being so closed off. I lifted myself out of my seat slowly. Jon didn't even look around as I trudged to the kitchenette and made us both coffee. When I set it down before him, he raised his eyes first to his mug and then to mine. I sat back down and leaned forward with my arms resting on my knees, the hot drink a pleasurable burn between my hands. I was relieved to see Rob and some of the crew working on laptops and tablets on the small seats at the front of the bus, and I could hear Mikey's low snore from the bunk, so it was just me and Jon.

"I'm sorry." I nudged my friend to get his attention. He switched off his player and swiveled around so he was mirroring my position. I noticed a few grey hairs popping through at the sides of his temples—how had we grown up so fast? It only seemed like a few years ago we were teenagers, copying Nirvana songs in the garage, dreaming of being stars. Now, we had it all. Dream fulfilled. But no one tells you that when one dream's done, you need to pick another. A life without goals is soul-less. My state of mind was more than evidence to that.

"I don't know what's up with you anymore." Jon took my apology as an invitation to continue what he'd wanted to say when he first came over. "Enough time has passed, Nate. It's time you shook yourself off and moved on. I don't want to sound like a dick, but I'm gonna say what everyone else has been thinking—get over it. The tortured artist look is wearing thin."

I couldn't disagree with him. His words were nothing I'd not been expecting, and yet I still struggled to reply.

"I love this band, Jon. I love our music. I love that everywhere we go people know our names and sing the words we've written. But it's not. . .filling me up anymore. It's like I'm searching for something. Me, I think. I've lost myself. I don't wanna get hurt again but I want to meet someone. I want what you've got." It was the most honest I'd been with him—with myself—for a long time, and it felt good to get it out.

Jon shook his head at me, his dark eyes serious. "We've worked really hard to get where we are. We deserve it. Why can't you just enjoy it? If you love it still, just enjoy what we've built. Forget women, forget relationships, it'll happen. You'll look back and regret not having the fun while you still can."

He was right. I was so sure that Anna was going to screw me over at some point that even thinking of her, the best thing to have happened to me so far this tour, made me irritable now. It confirmed to me further that I needed to bury Nate Sullivan, the boy. He was overly emotional, too sensitive and he got his ass kicked by girls. Nate Sullivan the lead singer was self-assured and confident, and it was that side of me that I needed to be. For the sake of the band, for the sake of my sanity.

I decided to tell Jon everything right then. I needed someone else to know. "I've been seeing Anna."

Jon's eyebrows moved upward in surprise. "Well, that doesn't sound like a good idea. Are you doing it to piss Becky off?"

"No. I really like her. I've never met anyone so—she's not like the others."

"Here's my advice to you buddy: hang out with her, sleep with her, whatever. But keep your distance. You can't get involved with your ex's best friend, she won't be able to and it'll end in tears. Have your bit of fun and walk away. You're supposed to be sorting your shit out, not making it worse."

I was expecting a summary to that effect. While buried inside me was the conviction that Anna and I had some sort of connection that I'd never felt before, I didn't trust it. How could I, when I didn't even know who I was at the moment? I'd needed Jon to tell me that, I'd needed to have it laid out. I had to protect myself, of course this would end badly, it was inevitable.

***

Anna texted me just after we finished sound check in our next venue. The message was friendly and chatty and she asked when we could see each other again. Jon's advice rang in my ears. Yes, I could have some fun with her—he'd said that, right? I let her know that we'd be a couple hundred miles away from her in a couple days and that we'd hook up then. It would be a weekend show so she'd be able to make it, but I didn't offer to come to her. If she wanted to see me, she'd have to come to me. I wasn't going to give out the wrong impression by doing all the running.

The gig that night was in Rob's home town, and after, he took us all for dinner in a gorgeous Italian restaurant just outside of the town. It was just us guys—the food good, the insults fast and hilarious, and the restaurant paparazzi free. Rob spent much of his time on his cell, barking orders to people and booking hotels for upcoming cities.

"For God's sake, Rob, can't you put that thing down for one night?" Mikey said, making a failed attempt to swipe the device from his hands.

"You all have no idea. You just breeze in with your guitars and drum sticks, decide which pussy you want to play with and sleep soundly in bed at night. There's a lot of fucking work that goes on behind the scenes to make that happen, I'll have you know. A lot of work," he grumbled.

"Okay, yes, you're amazing and we're ungrateful," Mikey replied childishly. "But come on, put the damn thing away, it's past eleven. Give your face a chance to go back to its normal color before starting again tomorrow." We all erupted in laughter. When Rob was stressed, a purple-red hue bloomed across his cheeks, like he'd been holding his breath for too long.

He took the comment well and put the phone down. "You win. Enough for tonight. Now, more drinks and then let's find some women. There's gotta be some perks to hanging out with you losers."

I drank a lot—more than I'd intended—and I was about to bow out as the rest were planning on leaving the restaurant and going to a bar, when the pretty waitress who had been serving us all evening approached me.

"Hey, my shift's about to finish. Wanna take me out for a drink?" I heard giggles from the table and a sigh from Mikey, who I think had set his sights on her when we'd first arrived.

"Actually, I'm not going for a drink but these guys will take you out." I whipped my head around and found Jon staring right at me. It was as if he knew that I hadn't even noticed the woman's sun-kissed Mediterranean skin, that I hadn't even looked at the slender figure beneath the black trousers and white apron. While I wasn't thinking of Anna the whole evening, I also hadn't been thinking about anyone else. But I could see from the look on his face that he was worried I was getting in too deep with a girl I could never have, and the worry embarrassed me, like he was afraid I couldn't look after myself anymore.

All the guys were focused on me and I could understand why. Normally, I would have been full of tacky compliments and already have her number in my phone. This dismissive attitude toward an eager girl just wasn't my style. I didn't want the concerned faces. I wanted to be me again. I wanted to be able to have my fun and walk away. Jon was right, he was always right. I was going to be hurt and I was allowing myself to be if I fell for Anna any more. I needed the distraction. I needed to have someone make me feel good.

"On second thought," I gave the girl a lopsided smile and mussed up my hair, "why don't you come and have a drink with me somewhere quiet? These guys will ruin your night."

Her eyes glistened like melted chocolate as she breathlessly agreed and rushed off to change. I sat back at the table while I waited for her and was congratulated suitably. I didn't want to spend time with yet another stranger, but it was almost like there was relief pouring off my friends—relief that I wasn't as damaged as they'd all thought I'd become. Why I had to revert back to the behavior of my early twenties to prove it was beyond me, but I preferred the camaraderie this invoked rather than the concern of my alternative plan, and so went with it. Jon gave me a supportive pat on the back while Mikey folded his arms in an exaggerated frown.

"Nobody ever cares about the drummer," he huffed. "You'd better make the most of her, 'cause I will want details in the morning."

"You're sick," I quipped back at him, feeling good that things seemed to be getting back to the way they were before, even if my insides didn't quite match with the outside I was projecting. Still, I thought as the girl emerged from the door of the kitchen in a tight red top that accentuated her every curve, as they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. And I held my hand out to lead her from the restaurant.

# CHAPTER 13—ANNA

Every day at work I checked the tabloids online, my doubts about Nate fading each time there was nothing reported. I cursed myself for doing it, but it had become a habit I had to feed. At home, I'd relaxed a lot more around Becky. I was learning to compartmentalize, and Nate could be pushed to the back of my head while I was around her. I never heard from him in the evenings and only got the odd message during the day after I'd contacted him first. It was driving me crazy, in truth, but the forced distance and lack of communication could only be a good thing, really, it'd help slow my feelings and gave me some time to think. In theory, anyway.

I switched frequently from believing that we had to fight for something that felt so perfect when we were together, to worrying that he and I were so imperfect as individuals that we would never find a healthy arrangement. Mostly, I tried to get on with living as I always had done and ignore the stirrings in my soul that Nate had awakened. But not today.

I'd be seeing him in a couple of hours. It had all worked out beautifully. Becky was staying at Jason's for the entire weekend so I hadn't even had to put myself through the torture of thinking up make believe places I could be going to. The moment I heard the door shut behind her, I'd turned my music to an ear-splitting level to dress and get ready. Bubbles of excitement popped in my belly. the anticipation for tonight had been building for over a week, and I was nearly set to burst.

It was the feeling of freedom I enjoyed most. Being able to set curls into my dark hair, outline my eyes with black kohl until they smoldered, trying on twenty different outfits, each one discarded in a heap on my bed. All without questions, without a face that would remind me my actions were devious and sneaky. I settled on black skinny jeans with flat black boots—I had nearly put heels on, then thought of all the standing I'd be doing while they played and sensibly changed my mind. Finally, I chose a dark grey top adorned with tiny, faded skulls. The top was figure-hugging, but I pulled it down just a touch more—a little cleavage never hurt anyone.

I hopped in my car and hit the freeway, the venue was a two hour drive, and as the road sprawled out ahead of me, stabs of nervous thrill churned my insides. Nate had invited me to a show, which meant that all the other band members and crew would see me, would know that I was there for him. Of course, we would be playing the friend card heavily, but they weren't stupid. This would be us taking tentative steps into becoming public. Could it be that I'd been right to think that Nate's feelings for me were more serious than he was letting on?

I had to park a good ten minute walk away, and I passed throngs of people, many of whom had Nate's face printed on the back of their t-shirts and hoodies, I hugged myself delightedly. That was the man I was having sex with. All these people, they just wanted to be close to him, and I was about to see him naked. Although my nerves were still humming, I practically skipped to the door.

I walked past a mile-long queue and gave one of the door staff my name. He radioed it through to the staff indoors, pulled a red colored band out of his coat pocket and attached it to me. I glanced down: Access All Areas. I was pointed in the direction of the backstage area, smiling serenely at the pleas from some of the girls standing in the front, begging me to take them in with me. I located Rob as soon as I opened the door to the backstage area. He didn't look surprised to see me so I guessed Nate had already told him of my arrival. He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and directed me to the main hangout. Everyone looked super busy and it was noisy in the vast room. The overhead lights were bare and harsh, revealing every scuff and cobweb on the dirty white walls. I didn't recognize anyone, so I perched on the edge of a sturdy looking flight case and texted Nate to let him know I was here.

Within a couple minutes he was looming over me, a stupid grin on his face. My eye line was level with his crotch and I raised one eyebrow suggestively as I looked up at him. God, he was a work of art.

"You pervert," he told me off as we hugged. "I'm glad you're here. Listen, there's drinks and stuff in my dressing room—fourth door on the right down the hall—but if you want anything else, just ask Rob." He melted me with his gaze, and I had to practically shake myself back to focus on the words he was saying. "Somehow, I've finally convinced everyone that I'm over Becks so it was cool to say me and you were hanging out as friends. That's okay, right?"

That was more than okay. It was the sensation of being included and accepted that made it more than okay—like I finally belonged somewhere. Not just that though, being around Nate's closest friends would give me the chance to properly assess what he was really like, whether what Becky had told me about his womanizing, drinking and moodiness were the memories of a past girlfriend scorned or the real man. This was the beginning of my chance to see if he had learned from previous mistakes. It felt underhanded of me to think in this way. But I was walking a tightrope for him right now, and he needed to prove to me that he was worth it.

"I'll probably go and steal a few beers later." I wanted to kiss him so damn badly. He had a hungry look in his eyes that I read as him feeling the same way.

"I gotta go in a sec. Oh, and just to warn you, we're doing a meet and greet package tonight. Rob's new venture. So there'll be fans watching from the side of the stage with you. About fifty or so. Just don't let them freak you out too much, okay."

I tapped him playfully on the arm. "I'm used to your crazy fans. I can handle it. They just better not block my view is all, or I'll start a riot." He reached down and squeezed my hand covertly. A thousand volts rocked my core.

"See you later," he whispered huskily, leaving me in the stark brightness of the room.

I had been all talk. When I finally made my way to the side of the stage, I was met with girls crying, squealing and whooping all at once, and I was sure that the males who were there would have been doing the same thing had they not wanted to impress those girls. So I hovered at the back, not wanting to get involved in the hysteria.

I could just about make out Nate's silhouette against the blue lasers sweeping over the stage blindingly. He opened the set with one of my favorite Chance songs—travelling down from a stage rigged in the sky to the stage floor, his arms outstretched like Christ as Mikey kicked in a powerful beat. As he jumped off the rig, he spun his guitar around from his back and tore the microphone from its stand. His voice oozed like liquid gold into my ears. I could feel it vibrating in my throat and pulsing between my legs. I swear I stopped breathing for two minutes at the sheer velvet of it. I had seen this band play so many times, yet today I was overwhelmed by pride, lust, joy, sex. I don't know whether it was the collective adoration seeping from the group of people standing in front me, or if it was because my feelings for him were more intense than the last time I'd seen him play. Whatever it was, I rode the wave, singing along with the others, cheering and yelling in the right places, and I morphed into fangirl.

So much so, in fact, that during one of the songs, a girl turned to smile at me while we sang along together. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me next to her. "You'll get a better view here," she said loudly in my ear.

"Thanks." I grinned at her, the shared experience making us instant companions.

"No worries." She held her hand out. "I'm Alice, by the way."

I shook it enthusiastically. "I'm Anna. Nice to meet you Alice."

I'd never been part of such a large collective group before. My parents had never let me go to pop concerts when I was younger, and Peter just wasn't the sort to get sweaty and enjoy himself. The Chance gigs I'd been to with Becks had been the first large scale music shows I'd been exposed to, and even then, it had generally been quite a muted affair watching from the wings. This was how it was supposed to feel—invigorating, sticky, charged. I felt part of a collective, a piece of a group with a common interest, a common love. It was—it felt like home. I felt like I belonged.

We jumped up and down and sang so loudly that my voice was hoarse by the time Nate sped off stage. His eyes obviously took some time adjusting to the darkness as he tried to locate me, I gave him a small wave and the smile I received as he found me was better than if someone had told me I'd won the lottery. He held up his hand, fingers wide, telling me ten minutes, before bounding down the steps and out of sight.

"Do you know him?" Alice asked me, her voice gruff from the singing.

"Erm. . .sort of. We're just friends." I couldn't help the warm ball of smugness as I told her.

"Yeah, me too," she said. It took me a second for it to register.

"Oh. What, you're friends with him too?" The look on her face made me want to smack it. I may have had momentary smugness, but she wore hers like a badge, and suddenly I knew exactly what she was going to tell me. Part of me wanted to run away, pretend I hadn't seen that righteous gleam in her stupid, massive eyes and make like I'd imagined it. But some sick part of me wanted to stay and hear it.

"I guess you could call us friends. Friends with benefits, though, really." She purposefully paused, waiting for me to pounce, waiting for the gushing and the pleading for details. I think she saw the blood drain from my face. She certainly picked up on my rising fury—her expression turned from smug to nervous. "Hey, it was only once, I don't want to have a fight over him or anything."

"I'm not going to fight you, you stupid bitch." I barged her out of the way and marched in the direction of Nate's dressing room, the muscles in my jaw so tense they started to ache. I flung open the door with a loud crash and he spun round, towel around his waist, still dripping from the shower.

"Anna—"

"You fucking dick," I yelled. "Some way to 'prove your trust through actions,' asshole. Stay the fuck away from me, you're full of shit."

# CHAPTER 14—NATE

I didn't move for a second, just stared after her as she stormed down the corridor. There were a whole bunch of people milling about who had most certainly heard the whole thing, but I didn't care. I had no idea what had just happened or what had triggered that outburst. I'd been so happy that Anna was here, and she'd been fine with me before I went on stage. Even after, that smile she'd flashed had seemed genuine. I couldn't, for the life of me, think what could've possibly happened between then and now for her to unleash that tirade on me.

Hopping around, trying to pull my pants on with one hand and locate her number on my cell in the other, I hung up and tried again, each time she let it ring to voicemail. I had to put the phone down as I buttoned myself up, fingers fumbling while my heart pounded. I know this was supposed to be a casual fling with no room for it to be anything more, but I couldn't deny the fear in my heart that I'd caused real upset in her about something and I—

The knock on my door made me start, and I flung it open, still topless, hoping it would be Anna. It was a member of the security team. She averted her eyes bashfully as I impatiently waited for her to speak.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir, but Rob's told me you've got five minutes before the meet and greet are due to the green room."

"Thanks," I told her, closing the door and cursing Rob with every profanity I could think of. I dialed Anna again, and this time left a message.

"Listen, I don't know what's going on, but don't go. Come back and talk to me about this, tell me what happened." I sounded desperate, so I coughed to relax my vocal muscles. "Rob's organized this dumb meet and greet that I can't get out of, so I can't come after you. I'll say some hellos, have some photos taken and be outta there as soon as I can. Just. . .stay here, okay?" Sighing, I quickly checked my hair in the mirror and headed to the main hang out room.

A quarter of it had been cordoned off and a white clothed table groaned with soft drinks and snacks. Mikey and Jon were already in the middle of it as Rob spoke to them, his face already an attractive purple.

"Ah, Nate." Rob beckoned me over. "I was just explaining, there is a very strict time constraint; you need to get around every person in fifteen minutes so no chit-chat. Quick hugs, smile for the camera and onto the next, alright?"

I nodded at him and forced a tight-lipped smile at the others. Jon saw the tension on my face, and was just about to ask when Rob spoke into his walkie, instructing the staff to bring down the fans, so there was no time.

Within seconds, we were swarmed by people, most of them wanting to touch us, tell us how our music had changed their lives. It was quite humbling, actually, to hear their stories, to see their passion and belief in us. For one crazy moment, I forgot that we were all a bunch of musicians who had gotten lucky, and believed that we were doing something on a far deeper level than that—we were helping people through their toughest days, sharing their greatest joys. And then I saw her. Alice.

In an instant, I pieced together the events that must have led up to Anna's outburst. They must have been side stage with each other and got talking. Dumb, idiot fangirl. I could have throttled her and her loose tongue. I had no chance of getting out of here before the allotted time, it wouldn't have been fair on the others either, so I did the most spiteful thing I could think of without causing a scene. I hugged her in the standard way we hugged all fans, shoulders forward, ass back, and released her quickly. I thanked her for coming to the show and then moved on to the next person before she had the opportunity to speak. I basically treated her like we'd never met before, and shit, did I now wish that was true. I was swallowed up by a sea of fans so she couldn't even get close and then finally, finally, they all got ushered out of the room. Alice hung back and was one of the last to leave, but I ignored her, beyond furious.

As soon as they'd gone, I whipped the cell from my pocket and called Anna again as I ran to the exit doors out the back. This time, she picked up.

"Where are you? I'm coming out to the parking lot," I told her earnestly.

She sighed. "Don't. I'll come back in. I'm not your girlfriend, you don't belong to me I just—I just want to hear what you've got to say. I want you to make me feel better than I do right now."

I leaned against the wall, relieved. "I'll try. Let's talk about it. I'll wait in my room." She hung up without a goodbye and I pulled on my hair, wanting really to punch myself in the face. How on earth was I going to get out of this one? She knew the story and I wasn't going to lie to her about it. I thought back to Jon's lecture and how much I agreed with it—this would end in tears, he'd said. It would never work out, and I knew he was right, but I had been banking on a bit more time with her first. I wanted it, I needed it, and I thought that I'd get her out of my system before it all broke down. She was not out of my system yet, by a long shot. And I didn't want it to end like this. I wasn't ready to say goodbye.

I paced my dressing room, turning the main light off and leaving the room only to be illuminated by the actor bulbs around the mirror. It gave a warmer feel, less glaring. I sort of wanted a little darkness to hide my face. I didn't know what tack I was going to take. Anna was right, she wasn't my girlfriend and had no exclusivity rights to me, but I didn't want to come across as defensive. That would take me out of the running for anything to happen in the future and Jon's words came to me again. I had to try to remember that I couldn't put myself through any more. I was only just getting my shit back together.

I heard the click of the door opening and watched her slink inside. She looked beautiful, a broken butterfly. I couldn't tell if she'd been crying, but her shoulders were hunched forward and her head low. She was like the Anna I'd known when I'd first met Becky, and I hated myself for taking her spark away.

"I don't know what to say, Anna. I want to try to make things better, but the fact of the matter is, I did sleep with that girl." So that was my tack. I surprised myself by opting for the brutal truth. Once I'd started, I figured I may as well give her both barrels. A true test. If she saw who I really was—who Nate Sullivan really was—and could deal with it, then perhaps I could allow myself some new hope.

"I'm a horrible person. I'm angry at the entire world and I don't know why. I sometimes hate people who are closest to me. I hate myself. I haven't got the faintest idea who I am or what I want, and every time something good happens, I purposely sabotage it so that it can't get to me. Apart from the band. I've kept the band and it's the only thing I've got in this whole world. I've been fucked over and used and I can't take it anymore. Whenever I let someone get close, they let me down. No one likes me for who I really am." I stopped. I'd gone way, way too far. Once the words had started tumbling out, I couldn't hold them back. I'd sounded like some whining bitch with first world problems, but it was the first time anything that personal had come from me to another person. I was stunned into momentary silence.

Anna was still standing by the door, her hands clasped in front of her, the soft glow from the bulbs making her eyes look as black as night, pools of infinity.

"I like you for who you are," she eventually said.

"You don't know me, Anna," I said evenly. "You like me for the person you think I am. Believe me, if you really knew me, you would not be here right now. I am selfish. I'm cold."

"No." She slowly moved toward me and looked me right in the eyes. "I like you for the person I know you are. Inside. I can see you. I can see who you are and I'm telling you—I like you."

I bent my head, unable to match her gaze. I truly felt as though she were looking right into my very soul and it was unnerving. Despite her insistence, I wasn't sure that it would have been a pretty sight. But she had gotten in, she had broken in, and I wasn't sure I was going to be able to get her out.

"I lied to you. I can't make you any promises, through my actions or through my words. I don't think I know how. I acted impulsively with that fan—" I used her as armor. I thought sleeping with someone else would protect me from falling for you. I did it again a few days ago. I'll probably do it again in the future. I've got no self-control. I'm too afraid of being alone. I will hurt you before you get the chance to hurt me. The words wouldn't come out; she already saw too much and I thought they may be a step too far in the honesty stakes. I wasn't going to stand here and run myself into the ground. I still had some pride. I still wanted her to want me, and that meant omitting some small details.

"Jon thinks we should just have some fun and leave it there. He said it would end in tears. I think he's right. I can't give you what you deserve. I can't be the person you want me to be." I kept my gaze on the floor.

"You saying that means that you are the person I want you to be. You're being honest and that's all I need. I think Jon's got a point. Why don't we just have some fun? As soon as one of us starts not having fun, we say so."

I wondered if she meant it. I wondered if I meant it as I agreed with her. The problem was, I was already not having fun. I was already in turmoil, already doubting, and had been from the get go. But I wanted to be with her. I didn't know if I could change, I didn't know if eventually I would be able to tell her the things I'd not been able to today. Our agreement started on a lie. It was just how I operated. But as she leaned forward and kissed me, I decided that this was a lie worth telling.

# CHAPTER 15—ANNA

He broke my heart, standing there like a little boy full of sorrow. But I knew he was being truthful with me. I knew he was being truthful with himself, and this made me think that he could change. If he didn't like who he was right now, surely he would want to? After I kissed him, I decided to make a few confessions of my own.

"I'm broken too, Nate. I get anxiety attacks. I've been having them for a couple of years and they're horrible and embarrassing. They come out of nowhere and make me think that I'm going to die."

"God, Anna, I'm sorry. I had no idea. You seem to cope with it well."

"I don't get them all the time, and I'm mostly okay now. They just come on sometimes." I thought back to my last one, when Becky had been there for me, as she always was.

He rubbed my arms gently. "So I guess we're both fucked up?" I laughed, appreciating his attempt at lightening the mood; it had certainly been an emotionally charged evening so far. "Now, how about some of this fun we've just made a deal on?" His voice sent shivers down my spine as his hot breath tingled the skin of my bare neck. He lifted me up and spun me around so I was sitting on the counter. An aftershave bottle rolled to the floor with a thud, but neither of us cared to pick it up.

As Nate kissed along my shoulder blade and down to my chest, goosebumps broke out across my skin—all my nerve endings sparked and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer to me. His hands slowly snaked across my back and he pressed closer still, darting a hot tongue over my lips, gently pushing my mouth open to explore. My back pushed against the mirror on the wall above the counter. Even through clothes, it was cold on my burning skin.

Any doubts, any fears I'd had a couple of hours before, any uncertainty I felt at the power of my emotions, faded further with each touch until the only thing in the world was this sensation, this electricity. He pulled away to lift my top off over my head, his eyes locked with mine the whole time, the turquoise only just visible around the edges of his dilated pupils. I stretched my arms up to help him and then tugged on his t-shirt, lifting it so his navel was exposed. From my seated position, I couldn't reach to take it off him, so he ripped it from his body with one hand. I could feel the ache between my legs throb as he slid my jeans down, biting at the inside of my thigh, making me jerk with the sharp thud of pleasure. By the time he reached the top, I was desperate, and cried out his name as his tongue rotated on my clit, firm and warm. My head spiraled and I grabbed handfuls of his hair wildly to pull him back up to me.

I tore at his pants and must have moaned, as suddenly our two bodies became one, but I was no longer in control of anything as I spun wildly in a tornado of ecstasy. My nails dug into his flesh and I felt his muscles tense with each thrust. I heard him groan into my ear and I bit down on his shoulder as I turned to white hot liquid. He jerked inside of me as I convulsed against him. Gasping for air, my shudders eventually slowed to a stop as he held me in his arms tightly.

"Right," I said, once I'd got my breath back. "If that's the sort of fun I've signed up for, then I want to put my name down twice." He laughed and kissed me on the tip of my nose before handing me my discarded clothing.

"Much as I'd like for you to stay naked, if we don't get out of here soon, we're going to end up spending the night." I dressed quickly and Nate fiddled with his GPS to get directions for me to drive us back to the hotel. The deliciousness of spending the night with him, the freedom of not having to think up some story to feed Becky later, struck me once again.

We walked through the deserted parking lot, I was tucked snugly under his arm and I thought back to the night when we'd bumped into each other. I'd have never thought that things would have turned out the way they had. As we got closer to my car, I felt like we were any other couple in the world, with none of the problems that haunted us—internally and externally. The night continued like that; just me and him, enjoying each other. Talking, laughing and drinking. Like there was nowhere outside of us two. We were the city, the country and the whole world. I felt so close to him, like I had knocked a few bricks from that wall he'd built around himself. He seemed more settled, more relaxed.

As I was about to drift off to sleep, wrapping myself around a warm and affectionate Nate Sullivan, I found words forming in my head that I did not want to hear. Or feel. Or admit to. Just a bit of fun, that was what this was. Those words had no place during a bit of fun. Those words had no place with a man who openly told me that he was impulsive, selfish and mean. Those words had no place in a relationship that was likely to end badly before it had properly started. As Nate closed his eyes, I tilted my head upward to look at him and opened my mouth to speak.

"Goodnight," I whispered. Saying one word but meaning three. I thought he could probably feel it, I saw the trace of a smile flash over his lips.

"Goodnight to you, too."

***

By the time I got back home, it was late on Sunday evening. I crept into the apartment like a teenager getting home after curfew. Becky said she was staying at Jason's until Monday morning, but I still felt the need for stealth as I crept down the hallway. I chucked my overnight bag inside my room and relaxed slightly once it was gone—being caught with that would have been tricky to explain. Flicking on the lights I sank onto the sofa and tucked my feet under me. I left the TV off. I just wanted to sit and commit the last day to memory, to think about the way his fingers felt when they brushed my skin, the scent of him when I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck.

Nate had said that he'd text me to let me know when he was nearby again. I rolled the phone over and over in my hand, wanting contact with him, wanting him to be eager. There were only three months left of the tour and after that, I knew seeing him would be a whole lot easier—and that was when things were likely to get even more complicated. If it carried on like this, I wouldn't be able to hold back my words like I had last night, and that would be when it would stop being fun to me. But I tried to just enjoy it as it was now. We had gotten away with our rendezvous, which meant we could again.

The next morning, I padded into the kitchen as Becky sat crunching on a piece of seeded toast.

"Hey. Nice weekend?" I asked her cheerfully as I placed my cell on the counter so I could make fresh coffee.

"Not bad. You?" she asked, focusing on her breakfast.

"Boring. The usual." I eyed her carefully as I poured granules into the filter. Something didn't feel right. "Everything ok?"

"Everything is just fine, Anna." She spoke slowly, as if she wanted me to shut up. So I did, pouring the water into the percolator in silence while she chewed. There was definitely an odd atmosphere and I felt incredibly uncomfortable. There was no way that she'd found out I'd been away—I checked and double checked that I'd left no signs. I'd parked my car in the same spot and had even put a couple of plates and cutlery in the dishwasher to make it look like I'd been home. Maybe her and Jason had had a fight? Whatever it was, the tension in the kitchen was chokingly thick, and while I waited for the drips to fill the coffee pot, I ran off to the bathroom with feigned urgency. I puttered about for a while, flushing the toilet and running the faucet unnecessarily, then took a deep breath to face her again. I hated this kind of loaded mood. It scared me, even if I had nothing to do with the cause of it. I wouldn't ask her any more questions for fear of an actual confrontation. I would do just about anything to avoid seeing people get angry.

On my return to the kitchen, was stood by the coffee machine. I wouldn't have thought anything of it if it weren't for the look of horror that paled her face when she looked up and saw me. It was then that I glanced down and noticed my cell in her hand. My bones turned to icy water.

"Since when did you change your pin code to unlock your cell?" She waggled the phone at me. "I thought we would always know each other's pin, in case of an emergency."

I nearly cried with relief at my cautious action earlier in the week. Nate and I had been texting and I thought it best to change it, just in case. Good God was I glad I had.

"Oh, I think someone at work saw me unlock it, thought I'd be on the safe side. Why do you need to use my cell?" I wasn't going to let her out of it that easily.

She stammered, but only for a split second. "I was just being lazy, sorry. I needed to give work a quick call and couldn't be bothered to get mine from my room. Coffee's ready," she added casually.

"Becky. Is everything alright? You're being a bit. . .odd. Did something happen between you and Jason?" Nothing about this morning added up—her freezing coldness, her trying to use my cell. I didn't understand any of it.

"Jason and I are fine. More than fine, actually." She poured herself a cup, without offering me any, and went to sit back down at the table. "Why don't you tell me about your weekend?" A creeping dread crawled around me like poison ivy. I pushed it away; there was no way she could have found out where I was.

"I told you, why do you keep asking? It was boring, as usual—internet, TV. Oh, I went for a walk around the park yesterday morning. It was nice, I was thinking about getting a dog you know?" I rambled until she held up her hand in a stop motion. I closed my mouth.

"I came home. I came home and you weren't here."

"What? Well, it must have been when I was out." I put my hand out to hold on to the wall, I felt like I was going to faint.

"No. Because I came back on the Saturday morning to pick up my jacket and you weren't here. And neither was your toothbrush. Then I came in again on Sunday to see if you were back, and you still weren't here. Who takes a toothbrush with them on a walk to the park?"

No, I screamed in my head. This couldn't all come out now. I'd had one night with him, it wasn't enough, I wanted more.

Becky pushed a chair out from the table with her foot. "I want you to sit down and tell me what the hell's going on."

I sat down and fought back the tears. This could be where it ended, but I wasn't done having fun yet.

About the Author

After earning a master's degree in secondary education from UNC, Elizabeth Nelson worked abroad teaching English, bar-tended at late night clubs in Chicago, and continues various philanthropy projects that focus on empowering women. But her love of writing never changed.

Want to see what happens next with Anna and Nate? 2nd Chance is now available!

Nate is holding himself together by threads. His only solid ground is Anna. But she's fighting her own demons, wondering if she can continue a relationship that completely betrays her best friend.

And when Becky finds out what Anna's been hiding, their friendship lands on the sidewalk in smithereens. Anna is crushed, and truly alone—without Becky, she's lost. She doesn't feel like she can trust Nate, and she certainly can't see him if it means the end of her friendship.

But Becky has a secret of her own. And when Anna confronts her about it, her relationship with Nate is a much smaller deal than she thought.

### Other Books by Elizabeth Nelson

Continue _The Take A Chance_ series with _2_ nd _Chance_ and _3_ rd _Chance._

2nd Chance

3rd Chance

