Reverb (16 page)

Another one of my fantasy men, pre-Bryn.

What is this place? Some kind of hot guy hell where you get sent to be tortured for having inappropriate thoughts about them?

“Hey, honey,” he says to me then glances at Cerys. “Oops, sorry, shouldn't use that name around you.”

“Very funny,” she replies.

As Cerys introduces me to the group, he gives me his signature sexy smile that tugs one side of his mouth up, while dazzling me with his blue-green eyes. His mop of brown hair that accompanied his werewolf role has gone, replaced with a shorter style. I gaze at his face and wonder if every man in the room was dipped in the same gene pool. There isn't one guy here with less than perfect features.

“Who are you with?” he asks, stumbling over his words slightly.

“Bryn.”
Ohmygod, I'm in a room full of famous people, telling TV’s favourite bad boy that I'm dating a rock star.
I fight the desire to giggle.

Avery. Stop it. These are ordinary people.

“Really?” he asks.

“My eyes are here,” I say to him with a well-used line. He lifts his drunken gaze from my chest.

“Sorry.”

Bryn appears at my shoulder. “Everything okay?”

“Hey, man.” Cas claps him on the shoulder. “Didn't mean to stare at her tits. I'm not a tits man really, any bigger than a handful is a strain on the tongue.”

I inhale sharply and step back. “I am standing here,” I retort.

“That was rude,” says Bryn in a low voice. “Apologise.”

“I'm sure she's used to it,” he says breezily.

“How sensible do you think it is, insulting my girlfriend?” growls Bryn.

Cas holds his hands up and stumbles back. “Hey! How is saying she has awesome tits an insult?”

“Leave it, Bryn,” I say, wanting the conversation over. I curl my hand around his sleeve.

“She's a person.”

“A rock star groupie?” He laughs.

“I am not!” I snap.

“Avery is not a groupie.” The room quiets as Bryn's voice rises. His building anger is obvious because my attempt to hold Bryn's hand and calm him fails as he drags its away.

“Right. Sure. Of course she’s not.”

“I think you should be quiet now,” says Bryn stepping closer to him.

Liam appears and tightens a hand on Bryn's shoulder. “What's going on, guys?”

“They're fighting over the girl,” says another woman Cas stands with.

For the first time, I take in the other people around, the woman’s strong Essex accent reminding me I've seen her on a reality TV show. Her brown hair extensions and thick orange make-up, coupled with the over the top, tight, shiny blue dress makes Mia’s fashion sense look subdued. To be honest, and if I'm really bitchy, she looks like a transvestite.

Nobody introduces us but she strokes a French-nailed hand along Cas’s grey shirt sleeve. “Darling, maybe you should slow down.”

I gape. Are they a couple? She may have a perfectly smooth brow and expertly applied make-up but this woman is older than Cas’s early twenties. A lot older. Look at a woman's hands, always a giveaway.

I wait for a Bryn throwaway comment to diffuse the situation, but it doesn't come. Silence falls so heavily it drowns everything else around.

“What happened to the hot chick you were with?” continues Cas. “The heiress. Weren't you an item?”

“No, and I think you should shut the fuck up, now.”

In his drunken state, Cas appears oblivious to Bryn’s growing anger. “I don’t understand why you guys keep choosing ordinary girls. Unless they have talents I’m unaware of. Maybe I should follow your example.”

Cas winks at me and instantaneously Bryn shoves him in the chest. “I said, shut the fuck up.”

As Cas stumbles, I grab Bryn’s arm, pulling him back from his attempt to move closer to the obnoxious dickhead. “Don’t.”

“Bryn, man, keep it calm,” says Liam and the concern on his face worries me.

This is a side of Bryn I didn’t expect. I suspected something deeper and more emotional ran below Bryn’s surface, but not a quick temper. Warily, I pull Bryn closer and he looks around, mouth tight. “Bryn. It doesn’t matter.”

Bryn steps back and winds his arm around my waist. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine. Honestly.” He pulls me closer and I almost stumble, before detaching myself. I may be shy but I don't need this turning into a big man protecting the little woman situation.

I can't do this; look what I caused.

“Please don't make this worse. Leave it. I'm not bothered,” I whisper to Bryn. “Can we go?”

“We just got here. Don't let him spoil it.”

“I'm not in the mood anymore. This was a mistake.”

Cas stares past us, confrontation forgotten in the haze of his drunken evening. “Gonna use your facilities,” he says to Cerys and walks unsteadily out of the room.

“Dickhead,” I mutter. “Excuse me.”

Aware everybody in the room witnessed the incident and is watching me, I stalk out of the room and back into the kitchen. Bryn follows and hovers behind me as I fill a glass of water. I turn and drink with shaking hands. The anger remains on his face until he notices the stress on mine and he switches to concern.

“Cariad
…
” Bryn's term of endearment, the way he looks at me in the way Cerys mentioned, the experience of the last few minutes, conspire to hit me with tears. Annoyed at my reaction, I blink and hope Bryn doesn't see.

“Shit.” Bryn crosses and catches a tear with his forefinger. “Don't let that fucker upset you.”

“Is he a friend of yours?” I ask hoarsely.

“Acquaintance. Friend of Liam's really, they met when he was with Honey. He's not that bad a guy, usually.”

I grit my teeth at Bryn defending him. “So it's okay to talk to women like that?”

“No. It isn't.” He strokes my hair. “I won't let anybody talk to my girl like that. I swear if he said anything else, I'd have fucking punched him.”

I'm about to tell Bryn what a bad idea that would be, when his other words punch me. “Your girl?”

“You know you are.” Bryn's intense look tears the breath from my lungs. “The world thinks you are because I want them to. Now the guys know this is serious to me. You're part of my life.”

I drag a heavy wooden chair from under the kitchen table and sink onto it. “Bryn, did you drink before we came here tonight?”

“No. I think it’s time we talked about what’s happening here.”

“What is happening?” I ask. “I’ve wanted to ask you, but…”

“I don’t want this to end when I go away. You make me happy; make me forget the shit in my life when we're together.”

“Bryn–”

“It's true.” He sits opposite me and cups my face in both hands, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs.

I curl my fingers around Bryn's hands before he kisses me and blinds my common sense. “Then I need to hear the truth.”

“I just told you the truth.”

“No, about everything.” I pull my head back and meet his confused eyes.

“I don't understand.”

“This other girl, Bryn. Who is she? Where is she?”

He drags a hand through his curls. “She isn't you, or here, so she doesn't matter.” He places his lips on my forehead, on a spot between my eyes. “I don't want to talk about her, cariad.”

“I think we need to. After the things you said last week, I'm not sure that's true.”

Bryn's switch to looking at a spot on the wall behind confirms this.

“There's a week until you leave. We have decisions to make if we want this to be more and I need to know what I’m signing up for, because I don’t want to get hurt,” I tell him.

Bryn's shoulders sink. “The middle of a party isn't the best place for this.”

“When?” If Bryn is like every other guy I've met, he'll attempt to wriggle out of this by putting the conversation off to another time.

“We can meet up tomorrow and–”

“Tonight,” I interrupt. “I feel like I'm hanging. I need to know what's happening in there.” I touch his forehead with my finger.

Bryn catches my hand and kisses my palm. “So do I.”

He moves to place his mouth on mine and I put a hand on his chest. “You don’t get out of it that way.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says with mock innocence.

“By kissing me until I lose all coherent thought. You know I forget my own name as soon as you do.”

“You now agree my kissing is awesome?”

“Like you ever doubted that. Stop changing the subject.”

Bryn rests his elbows on the table. “We can’t talk here, come back to mine.”

Chapter Twenty-One

AVERY

When I met Bryn tonight, I'd decided to hell with it; I would sleep with him. I'm shocked at the fact I've managed to hold out this long. Bryn doesn't need to touch or kiss me. Once he's close enough to intensify the effect on my hormones, then my traitorous body begs me to spend an evening in his arms.

Bryn sits in his armchair and I sit on the sofa opposite, a different kind of tension fills the room than the usual sexual.

He shakes his fringe from his eyes. “I've never spoken to anybody about this.”

“Once, you said you could talk to me about anything.” Bryn returns to staring ahead. “If it's something you never talk about, maybe it's time you started.”

“Yeah, I get that I have to. But you won't like what I'm about to tell you.”

I swallow against the sickening feeling rising. “Okay.”

Bryn stares at me for a few moments then swears under his breath before walking to the kitchen. “Do you want a beer?” he calls.

“No.”

Returning with an open bottle, he resumes his position and slowly drinks.

“Bryn?”

“How do you completely stop loving somebody?” he asks quietly, not meeting my eyes. “I’ve tried but I can't let her go.”

The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach grows. It's one thing to have a messy ex to deal with; but if he still loves her, there’s no point in us.

“Who is she?” I ask.

Quietly, Bryn tells me the story of him and Hannah, the girl in Australia, his one true love and I fight the tears. He's loved this girl his whole life, spending years looking for her like a prince in a fairy tale, only this time the princess rejected her prince.

“I know I'm stupid for not letting go. Being with you helps me forget, but I don't know if I can completely. Not yet.”

My body fills with a cold shock, my hopes and dreams splintering around me. “If there's no chance of fixing whatever has happened with Hannah, you have to move on.”

“How?”

“Find somebody else. Somebody who's worth it. Doesn't have to be me. I know I'm just a distraction for you before you go away.”

Bryn drags a hand down his cheek. “You’re more than a distraction. I told you that, but what about the future? It’s unfair of me. How can I give myself to somebody else while a part of me still loves her?”

“But she doesn't love you.”

“No.”

“Then you're setting yourself up for hurt and unhappiness.”

“Already there, cariad.”

I trace circles with a finger on the arm of the sofa, pissed off he’s using me as a confidante rather than telling me he’s putting the past behind him. “I think you're stuck, Bryn. Not just with whoever this girl is, but with life. You've said yourself. Put time and effort into other things, move away from everything holding you down. She's just a symptom of that.”

“I'm okay.”

“No, you're not. You're stagnant, watching your friends’ happiness and getting pissed off but not doing anything about it.”

“Because I'm waiting!”

“For what?”

“Her. Shit, no, now there’s you and I’m fucking confused.”

I suck in a breath, dizzied by his confession. Every time he mentions Hannah, the pain grows in his eyes and my despair grows inside.

I can't compete with Hannah. They spent a childhood together; I've known him less than a month. The aching spreads into my chest, losing Bryn hurts but I never really had him. This is why he's holding back and why I'm setting myself up for heartbreak.

I'm angry – at him and at Hannah. Bryn is a wonderful man with the biggest heart of anybody I’ve met, but he’s left it in Australia with somebody who doesn’t want it or deserve him.

“Why say those things to me tonight?” I ask, tears thickening my voice.

“Because it’s true. I like you a hell of a lot and I hope I can move on. With you. You asked for the truth and I’m telling you.”

I don’t want to hear anymore. I want to go. I have to walk. Now.

BRYN

The pain in Avery’s eyes is unexpected. I knew we were getting close but I thought telling her this would help straighten out the situation between us. I reach out to take her hand and Avery pulls it away, placing both on her lap.

She’s fighting tears, mouth turned down and I hate myself.

“I can’t listen to you talk about another girl abusing your heart and see the pain you’re letting her cause you. As long as you’re hers, you’ll never be anybody else’s,” she says quietly.

“I’m stuck. I know that. But you have to understand, I’ve spent years convinced me and Hannah will find our way back to each other. Then it happened; we had two more years together. Can you understand how a part of me still thinks we’ll find each other again? A bigger part of me knows I’m fooling myself, and I need to move on, but it’s tough.”

“And that's what hurts me more, because I care about you and don’t want to see you manipulated like this.” Avery trembles, tears fought back; and the guilt over the situation I've created seeps in.

Manipulated. Am I? No, we’re both to blame. I shake Hannah from my mind and touch Avery's soft cheek. In front of me is a woman who wants me and I want her. I'm a fucking idiot. 

She removes my hand from her cheek. “I think when you meet the right girl, you'll want to take your heart back from Hannah and give it to her instead.”

“I want that girl to be you.”

Avery swallows. “No. You don't. And I can't give you my heart either. What would be the point in me falling in love with you, if you could walk away at any minute back to Hannah?”

“Falling in love?”

“Bryn, if we keep seeing each other, things are going to get messy. Really messy. There'll be a third person with us the whole time.”

I shift, head a mass of confusion. “Kind of.”

“Not kind of. Tell me one thing. If Hannah phoned tomorrow and asked you to take her back, would you?”

I rub my face, grounding myself in this moment as I look at Avery. Avery who’s already changing my life by pulling me out of the stagnant water I’m drowning in. The tension grows, the truth building a wall between us instead of breaking one down. What do I do? Avery's face holds a hope that I’ll tell her I wouldn’t take Hannah back, but the truth is I don’t know. A few weeks ago, my answer would’ve been a definite ‘yes’; in a way I have moved on because there’s doubt. But I can’t say ‘no’ because Hannah still lives in my heart. I want Avery but I can’t give myself the way she needs.

“Avery. You're in my dreams and my head constantly.”

“But not your heart.”

“You are.”

“But I’m not really. Hannah has your heart, doesn’t she?”

I should never have agreed to this; should have kept my stupid mouth shut. Why tell Avery I want her then do this to her? Wouldn’t it have been easier to walk away next week and avoid this shit?

Deep down, I know why. I want to talk to somebody about Hannah, take her from my head and put her in the world, hear what somebody else thinks of my situation. Avery is the wrong person to tell, but she’s the only one I can talk to. An egotistical part of me thought Avery would be okay with the situation and would wait for me to sort myself out. Wait for us.

The hurt girl staring back at me, failing to hide the tears in her eyes doesn’t deserve to be treated like this. I’m a bastard for leading her on and not admitting to myself this is what would happen.

“Okay. Well, I know now. I think it's best if we stop whatever the hell we're doing here,” Avery says stiffly and stands. She looks around for her bag.

Fear grips me, fear Avery will walk out of my life and take all the recent happiness with her.

Too late.

“Avery.” She stops with her hand on the door. “Wouldn't you hate me more if I'd pretended I could give you more, so I got to indulge my obsessive desire for sex with you?”

Avery giggles which confuses the hell out of me. “No, it hurts more because I thought I had a chance. If this had been about sex, at least I wouldn't have been strung along for two weeks. One night and it would’ve been over.”

“So you would've?”

She glances back. “I guess you'll never know.”

At this moment, I hate myself more than if I'd used her, because in a way I have, much more than if I'd screwed her. I fucked with her feelings.

“I'm so sorry, cariad.”

She bites hard on her lip as tears fill her eyes. “Don't call me that. I'm not your cariad. I never was.”