Blazed

chapter Twelve

I GROANED, PLEASANTLY stuffed, and fell lax backwards into my seat. The first part of Blaze's working holiday aka 'wildfire season' had passed too quickly, without dramatic incidence and at great penalty to my waist line. A further shopping trip had been necessary and had played out exactly the same way as last time, minus the fraught recollection of scattered wits and scuppered self-imposed trends. Blaze had picked out my second new wardrobe as he had the first, compensating for my lack of fashion sense, and dressed me almost every day in a way that made me look quite the model's glamorous girlfriend. It was a miraculous transformation I only ever could have dreamed of, coupled with the comfortable adjustment to what some might have called a fairly average life.

The warm fuzz of wine I really should not have been drinking in my lunch break made the man who sat across the table from me in the inconspicuous Italian bistro almost glow incandescently. He looked mighty fine in a fitted dress shirt and smart-casual pinstripe trousers he'd donned purposely to drive me crazy. And as ever, he was wolfing down food like it had gone out of fashion, barely pausing for breath to notice me contemplating him, one finger running in circles around the haloed rim of my wine glass.

"You're such a voracious eater." He swallowed his mouthful before grinning at me, eyes flaring with recalled scenes of eating something that didn't appear on the bistros menu. The heat behind his look forced that familiar blush to my cheeks, which made him grin wider.

"Food is a passion of mine that comes second only to you, Emmeline, though the line where you end and food begins often becomes blurred."

"I'd noticed." I coughed through the lump that knotted in my chest every time he gave me that molten glare. I'd learned to stop apologising after being told repeatedly from multiple directions that I was reading it wrong. When I saw it now, it seemed almost like he forced himself to soften for my benefit. Whatever thought came with the look, I knew he was reigning himself in.

This lunch date had been one of many over the past two weeks and was rapidly becoming a hot commodity. With Hunter still incommunicado and sulking, it had been easy to push him to the back of my mind and focus on the one remaining man in my life. Being 'with' Blaze was a surprisingly easy pill to swallow, made easier by the fact he had his own plans some evenings to give me the breathing space I still sorely needed to fend off the feeling of suffocation.

That didn't stop him messaging me through the separation though. With free time in the week such a rarity, he wore himself ragged trying to catch up with absent friends and entertain me all at once until I told him to relax. Coming from one of the most highly strung bachelorettes in London, he knew that it wasn't an order to be sniffed at. We had a finite amount of time together, even if it was just weekends most of the time, and I needed him fighting fit. I made unfair demands on his body as he did mine, and feeling what I did for him could be draining at times. I didn't know if that much was mutual, but I knew that I was falling deeper in love with him with each passing day.

I was at least at peace with being a part time lover. Full time was probably too much. Still, this wasn't quite enough.

"Stay with me tonight. Properly." I spoke so quietly it took Blaze seconds to decide if he'd heard me properly. Leaning over to pull my glasses down my nose, his mouth twisted ruefully as he checked for signs of deception or narcotic euphoria.

"F*ck my life." He sagged back in his seat and regarded me with interest, confusion, and that twang of hunger that always graced his emerald irises when I was in his line of sight. "You're my Big Bang, Emmeline."

"Explain."

"Well from the moment we met, you were a statistical anomaly. The conditions had to be perfect, a once in a lifetime experience." He tried to frown at the amusement I took in his flowered up compliments but couldn't. Making me smile was a supplementary third on his list of great passions.

As ever, I was riveted by the way he could turn the simplest of comments into a complex, poetic metaphor that left me drooling slightly from the mass exertion of my brain cells. "So how is that like the Big Bang?"

"You created a handful of little orbs of opportunity and spread them so sporadically through the universe that it takes a lifetime to travel between them, and then complicated it by sticking bloody great fireballs in the middle of them. Shrink it down to our particular solar system and how long is it before the sun expands and starts burning up planets? How many of those opportune sparkles does it destroy before it fizzles out completely?"

I rocked back onto the hind legs of my chair. "Kinda sounds like you're saying my universe revolves around you there, sport."

"Just this particular section." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which he'd left un-styled. It was almost too long, starting to cover his eyes and taking the 'business' edge from a casually urbane look. He'd almost definitely gotten more scrumptious since we'd met, but I tried not to put credence to his previous beauty theory on this occasion. "What I'm really saying is I have plans tonight but don't know when you're going to let your guard drop enough to extend that invitation again. Remember how long it took CERN to recreate the Big Bang? Maybe I should have called you my Higgs Boson..."

I forced an accepting smile despite being disappointed by the rebuff. No matter how nicely he'd tried to break the news, it had taken me a long time to get to a point where I was ready to wake up next to him, confident that I wouldn't go arctic the next morning.

Our time of 'normality' had come with a mess of last minute dashes and close calls relying heavily on my tendency to sleep through alarms. The nights we drank too much together saw him passing out next to me when I'd drifted into a peaceful post-coital slumber, springing up like a jack-in-the-box at the sound of the first of my five alarms and ready to dazzle and conquer. He was much more reliable than me like that, ready to spring into action as soon as his eyes opened while I preferred to hit the snooze button a handful of times and bury my head under a pillow.

When he had plans or a job the next day, he stuck to the soft drinks and left for home to catch a few hours sleep as soon as my eyes closed.

The signs that he was starting to flag manifested in the reddening schleras of his eyes and the yawns he tried to stifle to save me the guilt. I had to be costing him work and his patience had to be waning. Sometimes I woke up not long after he'd left and the bed would still be warm where he'd lain not long before, the sheets crumpled underneath the place I suspected he'd taken a moment to watch me sleep. Every time I rolled over into the space he'd left in a bed that had only been touched by us, I felt that emptiness reflected in the irrational stab of disappointment that he hadn't tried to challenge me by staying anyway, despite my vehement insistence that he needed to leave.

I was ready. I wanted the morning sex and coffee experience with him— every day if I could. I wanted him to bully me into staying awake and share my morning shower, dressing me for work and then mentally undressing me as we ate breakfast together. Seeing him every day wasn't enough. Not taking someone else home on the nights he was out, holding onto the tantalising soreness he'd driven into me before he'd left, wasn't enough of a sacrifice for me. I wanted to give him everything.

Christ. I wanted the full package I couldn't have, but took some comfort in knowing that he wanted it too.

Still, I respected that he had plans so I acquiesced. "It's an open invitation, Blaze. It doesn't have an expiry date." His face flooded with relief and he swept his brow with a light-hearted 'phew' to inject a little humour into what teetered on the brink of becoming a serious moment. He really was humbled that I'd made the offer at all and it was plain on his face for all to see in the softness that hit his eyes like I'd lifted a weight crushing his foot— not crippling but hardly bearable.

Righting myself on the chair, I picked up my fork to shove at my pasta. I really wasn't hungry anymore, but I needed something to distract me from the urge to pry. F*ck it. I wanted to know what was so important that it was stopping him from doing something he'd been gunning after for weeks. "So... are your plans important?"

Blaze picked up his own fork and began to dig back into his meal, smirking as he speared a ravioli parcel. He knew exactly what I was doing. "Imperative." He winked conspiratorially and tortured me with the time it took to chew and swallow his mouthful before he offered any elaboration. "I'm heading out to Birmingham as soon as you're back at work."

"Oh." That seemed like a long journey and a definite 'no' stamped over the question of whether I stood a chance of him changing his mind.

"I'm coming right back but I owe a favour to a photographer friend. She needs a hand setting up a venue for a function tomorrow."

"A photographer is holding an event?" I hoped that I was appropriately disguising my bite of jealously over the fact he'd be with another woman while he was not pinning me into my mattress.

"She modelled first."

"Oh." Not helping.

He had the nerve to laugh and lean over to wrench the fork from my fisted hand. "Relax. Nelly is very much in love and I am... also into some chick with a very cute jealous streak."

"Some chick?" He gave me his most disgusting shit-eating grin and puppy dog eyes— a lethal combination that forced a smile to crack through my steely resolve. "Best give me her name so I can kill the bitch."

Checking the time on the impressive leather strapped watch that bound his wrist, Blaze tossed his credit card down on the table and grabbed the legs of my chair to pull me closer. It was starting to scare me how often he glared, a look I so often tried to mirror to no effect. I don't think he knew how small and boxed in it made me feel, confused by his tenderness but squashed down by the force behind his eyes. "You still have tomorrow off work, right?"

"I do," I swallowed the hard lump in my throat, "free to be at your disposal for the entirety of Emmyday." The low growl he made promised that he'd ensure I made good on that claim. "You should probably sleep in. I plan to." Something in his almost predatory stance told me I'd need to.

"No need, Miss White," he drawled, stroking a fingertip just under the hem of my skirt, "you'll sleep for a season when I'm done with you."

I had no reason to suspect that he was exaggerating.

I WAS OVERCOME with a sense of dread when Blaze pulled off, destined for Birmingham. Despite maintaining his usual impish manner, he'd been distracted since he'd made his sensual promise. His words still flowed but they lacked their usual punch and all he left me with was an unenthusiastic kiss goodbye and another 'I'll call you'. I didn't allow myself to get caught up in that again, instead I wanted to know exactly why he'd withdrawn.

Had my eventual surrender tripped some sort of switch in his mind that told him, actually, he didn't want what he thought he wanted now it had stopped being an impossibility? Had it all just been a case of wanting what he couldn't have? Was this the end of our story because I'd done what I thought was necessary to keep us together?

I needed reassurance. It was a standing order to get over myself and call him when I needed him and this was definitely one of those times I needed him to nurse my hopelessly neurotic side. But he'd be driving for at least two hours— longer if he stopped at the services for a bathroom break. Even if I sent him a message, there was no guarantee that he'd pick it up and reply before he reached his destination. I needed instant gratification and the longer I was forced to wait, the more my ego would bruise and self-pity fester.

I clock-watched fixedly for the remainder of my workday having taken the pragmatic approach and just sent a damn text message. Slowly, the clock ticked and time passed, counting away the seconds until my phone ra—

"Double Booked, Emmeline speaking." I deflated when the first noise I'd heard in ninety-seven minutes came from the shop phone. Maybe it would be important and I'd be able to drag it out for half an hour, or maybe it was a supplier who needed excruciatingly specific details of something. Anything to distract me.

"You're calling yourself Emmeline again now?"

My hand tightened around the receiver when the awareness of the voice hit me. A voice I'd had no intention of hearing again after the last words it had spoken. I was right to have been feeling like there was a weighted silence hanging over my head like a sharpened guillotine blade— it was the voice that could tear me to shreds.

I didn't offer a hello, just a snarl. "Why didn't you call my mobile, Hunter?"

"I have been. It's been turned off."

"No, it hasn't. I—" Scrolling through the call settings on my phone, I discovered that someone, I presumed Esme, had set it to forward all of Hunter's calls to voicemail. Fifteen had already been diverted and god knows how many emails sat in my neglected inbox. The gratitude I felt for having the decision taken from my hands lasted for half a second before it was spurned by the resentment that he'd found and exploited a loophole. "What do you want?"

"My, aren't we testy today? Problems with the boyfriend?" As ever, he got my back up with the malicious hiss surrounding his words. I wanted to tell him that my life was great without him in it. I wanted to tell him that Blaze had fixed all the damage he'd caused over the years. I wanted to get into the nitty gritty details of all the different ways he'd f*cked me over the weeks and how I came so hard I thought I might go into cardiac arrest...

But because I really didn't know what was going on, I wilted and surrendered an unenthused, "no," rubbing at the cramp in my stomach. "Like I said, what do you want? I have work to do."

Hunter laughed. "Work? Nap time already?"

"Real work, f*ckwit, I'm looking at revamping our stock system." I hadn't been, but now I had the idea, I was going to.

"Ohh-hoo, 'real work'. Revamp the stock system for a multi-national corporation and we'll talk then about 'real work'."

"Hunter?" I considered all the catty remarks I'd made in self-defence over the years. Thought about all the times I'd tried to argue to win his respect. And all the times I'd failed. "I'm presuming you didn't call just to remind me how worthless I am without you?"

There was a pause, suggestive of the fact that Hunter had never heard me not jump in with a counter-attack and was surprised by my grown-up attitude. "Umm... no, of course not. Do I do that?"

"All the time actually."

"Wow, Jesus. Sorry, Emmeline." I pulled the receiver back to look at it for a moment. No, it was definitely real. Pinching myself hurt so I wasn't dreaming. That was an actual apology. God damn. "I was calling to invite you here for Christmas actually. Siobhan has planned a week away with a girlfriend so—"

"So you need a replacement little woman around to take her place while she's away." My hand shot to my mouth to muffle the involuntary giggle that rattled in the back of my throat. When I didn't screen my responses before I opened my mouth, I inevitably lunged straight for his jugular with my teeth bared. Somehow, it was quite funny, but I saved myself with, "I actually have plans already."

"I know you hate flying out, I could come over to you."

"Uh..." Okay, now that wasn't like him. It was usually his way or the highway. As it was, I didn't know that my plans to go back to Cardiff with Blaze would ever come to fruition but they were set in stone nonetheless. "I really do I have plans. I'm going home with my... with my boyfriend."

"Hang on, Emmeline." Rolling my eyes at the break he forced in our conversation, I began to hear the bar noise behind him and the stream of discussions going on around him. Someone seemed to ask who he was talking to, someone else asked if I was hotter than his fiancée. I gloated a little when he laughed and his friends murmured agreeably, then froze when I heard someone start rambling in Japanese faster than I could understand, making only one word out clearly. Blaze. Christ, we were an internationally recognised couple, and boy, did that get my hackles up for some reason.

"How the hell have they heard of Blaze over there?"

Hunter sighed harshly and turned his attention back to me. "He's been a voice actor on a pretty big cartoon over here. Has an impressive fan base."

"He speaks Japanese? That's... hot." Even if I was confused about where we were, the mist that clouded my judgement made me want to jump in my untouched Bentley and chase him to Birmingham so I could shamelessly tear his clothes off. That kind of intelligence was like an erogenous zone set independently from my body.

"I speak Japanese." Hunter objected, the volume of his voice rising more than necessary. What the hell— was he jealous? "Is that walking wank bank seriously dating you?"

My head jerked back. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, I just don't get why he'd be celibate for six years and then—"

"Then what? Waste it on me?" The extent of his surprise stung. No, he wasn't jealous, he just didn't think I was worthy of being on such a gorgeous man's arm. I wasn't, but he was supposed to be my best friend. "You know what, Hunter? I may not look like I belong in a porno magazine. I don't throw Daddy's billions around to score a lay and I have my fair share of emotional baggage. But I'm a smoking hot blonde with a pretty good rack and my value goes beyond how well I suck dick and cook dinner. Blaze didn't screw anyone for six years because he's not a total narcissist like you. He doesn't need to fill volumes of little black books to feel like a stud because he'd rather be a happy outcast than miserable and adored. And despite that period of celibacy, he's still had more sex since he met me than you have in the past six years and you're f*cking marrying the woman you lost your virginity to. Good luck with that."

The minute the receiver touched the phone's base and ended the call, I was forced to process what the hell had just happened. Six year celibacy. How had I not known this? Being as gorgeous as he was, I'd assumed that Blaze had threaded his own string of casual encounters over the years, not gone without completely. He was too skilled in the bedroom to have been victim of a dry patch that long. Was it voluntary or had his work kept him so busy that it wasn't an option?

It was too early to call him, not that there was a good way to bring up the subject even if I omitted that Hunter had called. With Mrs Reynolds out of the shop, I spun around to the computer and pounded 'Blaze' into a search engine, hoping to score lucky on his Wikipedia page. The snippets I found were like staring at a meteor shower.

Blaze (born February 14th 1983) is a British singer, song writer, model and actor, also lending his voice to a multitude of video games, animated films and short cartoons recorded in three of the five languages he speaks...

... Born in Cardiff, Wales, Blaze lived alone with mother, Constance, after his father's murder (name withheld) in 1987... He took an early interest in music and was an accomplished classically trained musician of six instruments by thirteen...

... Studious Blaze won his place in the University of Cambridge at just fifteen years old, choosing to decline to study locally near his mother... and amazed scholars by finishing his Ph.D. in Physics and Astronomy at age twenty-two...

... Blaze co-founded UK rock act Monday's Miracle midway through college, utilising his charm and good looks to snag gigs at high end venues and the consideration of numerous record labels. The band were picked up by Counterpart Records in 2006. Shortly after, Blaze relinquished frontman responsibilities to Chase Garret, choosing to step back to become full-time carer for an unknown disabled family member...

... His good looks and natural prowess attracted the likes of modelling and advertising agencies who hired him for a number of campaigns. Blaze has since been repeatedly requested to appear in a number of film productions, television series and designer photo campaigns but has rejected many offers, still dedicating the bulk of his time to caring... Making exceptions only for a two day video shoot with UK rock princess Amelia Marsh of The Bystander Effect as a favour to Amelia's now husband, Caspian Pearce...

... Blaze supports a number of charities specifically advocating the awareness of neurological disorders and mental health. He has mentioned in passing difficulties with body image and diet after his early break into the modelling industry but has chosen to never elaborate...

... Nothing is known of his romantic history. Blaze has fended off the advances of many A-list actresses and singers, openly admitting to being celibate until meeting young artist Emmeline White in June 2012. The couple denied any romantic involvement at first, their relationship confirmed in an interview with Monday's Miracle guitarist Scott Henlow, who speculated on the permanence of their arrangement...

"Holy shit." He wasn't just a pretty face, he was a smart cookie with some serious skeletons in his closet and now I was publicly recorded as one of them. Of course, I'd known nothing about the man until it had been shoved at me, but who else knew that he'd battled his own confidence issues?

As much time as I'd spent with the man, I really didn't know Blaze at all. If I thought about it, I knew his age, basic career background and where he was born. I knew his name, but I didn't know why it was really such a big secret. Withheld for legal reasons— why? And how the hell had he never given away that he was some kind of child genius?

I needed to talk about this with someone, someone who'd stop me analysing the hell out of it or offer some kind of snide comment and snap judgement. Someone who wouldn't try and placate me with a movie quote. Someone who'd understand why it bugged me...

"Daniel Vine." Just his voice made me feel better. Even though we were friends before, Daniel and I forged our affinity around the time we both showed signs of being mixed up kids. He started realising that when I was looking at boys, he was looking too. I thought that was actually pretty cool of him. He was also the only guy who ever told me I looked particularly good in any given outfit or shade of lipstick. When the pieces began to slot into place, I let him feel me up to 'test' if he was gay. That didn't work because he still loved my tits. People thought we were 'together' for a long time and in a way, we always were. We were inseparable physically, always walking with our arms linked or holding hands. We were each others grounding forces until Hunter came along and f*cked me up good and proper.

"How lame is it that I'm still laughing over your initials? D.I. Vine, how droll!"

"It's pretty lame, princess." I smiled, loving the way he still addressed me with the endearment he'd used when he was eleven. "What can I do for you?"

"Have you ever checked out my 'walking wank bank' boyfriend's Wiki page?"

"No, hang on." I waited patiently through the clatter of keys at his computer and the low mutter as he read aloud. "Bloody hell. Hungry Dr. Unknown on a sex strike dating the mysterious sexy artiste."

"I'm glad you picked up on the five things I did. What do you make of it?"

Daniel hummed in contemplation, sighing with it. The leather of the high-backed swivel chair I knew he sat in creaked and I could tell it was because he'd sat forward to rest his elbows on the edge of his desk, the way he always did when deep in thought. "I think there's not nearly enough information on this page. Do you think he was a virgin when you met?"

"Not from the way he rammed it in me."

"Hah! He's in Birmingham today, right? I'll shuffle my workload— pick you up from the shop. We'll thrash this out over sushi." Sushi was his answer to everything— his idea of comfort food. When the world needed to be put to rights, it was best done with the fortifying fire of wasabi and the comfort of tempura. Needless to say he'd sent back his RSVP to Hunter's wedding the minute the invitation arrived.

"How do you know he's in Birmingham?"

"Ah. Uh... Ohh, look, something shiny!"

That diversionary tactic should not have worked half as well as it did.

"OH CHRIST!" I coughed through the scorching tang of wasabi I'd been promised didn't exist in my pork wonton. Jonathan chuckled mischievously as I snatched the glass of water from his hand and gulped it down, eyes wide and watering. He'd joined us after work and looked as dapper as his partner in a deep purple suit that really shouldn't have looked as good as it did. Daniel had taken advantage of 'casual Friday' in his office and worn a simple white t-shirt with a pair of low fitting blue jeans, and while the couple couldn't have looked much further apart visually, it was clear to everyone that they were the most kindred spirits in the sushi bar.

'Thrashing it out' with Daniel hadn't been as productive as I'd hoped, and I was yet to discover how he knew about Blaze's plans. As far as the Wikipedia page went, I really didn't know what I was hoping for. He couldn't enlighten me further, I knew that much, neither could he explain the secrecy.

"I think," Jonathan mused, "you're putting too much value on his past. God knows yours is pretty colourful and he's not letting it cause a rift."

"As far as we know," I shot back, "he knows I'll be in full swing when I'm letting him stay over properly and he wigged out completely when I told him that he could tonight." Failing to hide my irritation over it, my hand dove into my pocket to recover my phone, and then tossed it down onto the table when I found no response to my message. "And no reply. I have bets on him dropping by the flat when he gets back into London to leave me a big fat Dear Jane letter."

"Bloody hell." Daniel rolled his eyes at me, turning my phone around to look at the message I'd sent in the afternoon. "Well there's your problem. It's still in your outbox."

"What?" I squeaked loud enough to turn heads, promptly sinking down in my chair to hide out of view. I could have kicked myself for not thinking to check my outbox myself and had consequentially been beating myself up over it all day.

"It's not like you to get quite so het up, Emmy, and that 'walking wank bank' comment earlier was such a Hunterism. He's called, hasn't he?" Begrudgingly, I explained how he'd call the shop with his usual insults and made the offer to come over for Christmas. That and the shitty comment that I wasn't good enough for Blaze. "Damn it. It didn't even occur to me that he'd seek out the shop's number. I thought the call barring would be enough."

"You set that up?" I was sure my eyes were boggling at Daniel. It wasn't his style to take assertive front-line action, he preferred to be a background adviser— a tactician or strategist. I was seriously honoured that he'd taken that kind of stand for me.

"Well sure, Emmy. At some point you have to swallow the bitter truth and accept that your friends are arseholes. Not all of you, obviously, but he's really doing more damage than good. Tell me your heart didn't leap into your mouth when you heard his voice."

"It petrified and hit my feet."

"Good, good." He nodded but traded a glance with Jonathan, withdrawing the same way Blaze had before he'd left. It didn't matter that he shook it off quickly because I'd seen it already. Something was going on, some kind of conspiracy, and I wasn't in on it.

ESME'S and Chris' unnatural exuberance didn't improve my state of concern when we hauled into Esme's as usual. She too traded secret glances and smiles, while Chris' cheerfulness had an edge to it, like he was in on some sort of evil scheme that would cause a tragedy of catastrophic proportions. Whatever they all knew, he was happy about it for a different reason and that scared me.

"You know when you just have a really bad feeling about something?" It surprised me how drunk I was feeling. I'd been accosted at the bar when we'd first arrived by a group of people who recognised me from some candid press photos of myself and Blaze around the city, and they'd invited me to join them in a round of shots. I could never turn down a free drink, but I really should not have felt as lousy as I did for one more. My voice didn't sound like my own. I wasn't sure that I was making sense and I was feeling so dog tired. Suspecting it was just a result of my shitty mood, I pushed on. "You're all keeping something from me and it's really not fair. Something is going to go wrong. I can feel it in my gut."

My four friends bristled. My gut feelings were usually pretty precise, capable of picking up on misfortune lingering before it happened. I joked that I was distantly related to the cats and dogs who laid down beside a pensioner in a nursing home because they smelled death coming.

Esme reached for my hand and squeezed it tightly. "You don't have to worry about anything. I promise. Nothing bad is going to happen."

"Whatever." I pulled my hand back, pushing to my feet. Impending doom wasn't the only thing happening in my gut and the crowded room was starting to stifle me. I needed air. I lusted for the dry lingering heat of a dying summer to disappear and grant me with a cool, revitalising blast when I stepped outside. And whether he was busy or not, I needed to talk to Blaze. I needed to know that he'd be there like he promised in the morning and there wouldn't be anything hanging between us.

My step faltered when I edged around the table. Chris leapt to his feet and caught me before I made contact with the floor. "Damn, Emmy. You've been here less than an hour, how are you so trashed already?"

"I'm not. What's the strongest thing here for shots?"

Esme frowned. "I think we still have some Pernod Absinthe but you have the constitution of an ox. One shot shouldn't have— Emmy? Emmy!"