Because she’s drowning under life’s supply
Of paper weights and paper clips and paper paper
So go open up
Go dance like her
whispers
Just don’t make eye contact
Don’t make eye contact
Don’t make eye contact
I opened my eyes only when I whispered the very last line. I knew he’d be looking. He always was. It was the one thing in our relationship I could count on. His constant attention while I sang.
I thanked the audience for their appreciation, stood and hustled off the stage, my heart in my throat. Not considering the moments we’d shared up until now, that had been way too close. My skin was clammy. It prickled with awareness and apprehension and want.
I needed a drink.
I worked my way through the club, arriving at the bar and ordering another tequila sour. I slipped some Euros to the bartender when someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Isaac, the boy from earlier in the day. I’d forgotten I invited him to come and wondered if he was old enough to be in here. He looked eighteen . . . almost.
“Hey Isaac! Thanks for coming,” I exclaimed.
“Reya, you were incredible up there,” he said just as Trev appeared over his shoulder. He didn’t look happy that I had company, which was ridiculous because Isaac was just a kid. Sure, he was tall, but it was pretty obvious how young he was.
“Reya,” said Trev, his voice low and questioning.
“Trev, come here. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Isaac’s eyes bugged out of their sockets when he heard the name, his entire body stilling. It was sort of adorable. Trev came to my side, sliding his arm around my waist possessively, which was completely unnecessary. He eyed Isaac with suspicion.
“This is Isaac,” I explained. “We met earlier today during filming. He’s a big fan of yours,” I went on, putting emphasis on the word ‘fan’ so he’d know to be polite. “I invited him along tonight so he could meet you.” When I finished speaking, Trev’s posture loosened as he realised this wasn’t some guy who’d just approached me at the bar.
“Oh, hey, great to meet you, buddy,” said Trev, smiling as he held out a hand.
Isaac didn’t speak, only stared at the offered hand, frozen in place.
I laughed softly and nudged Trev to make a bit more of an effort. “I think he might be a little star-struck.”
“No, no, I’m fine. Really,” said Isaac, finally finding some words. “I just . . . it’s an honour to meet you. I’ve followed your series since the very beginning.”
“The honour’s all mine. It’s a real treat to meet a fan. Can I get you anything? You want me to sign something?”
Isaac’s eyes widened again as he started to nod, “Yes, please,” but then he realised he had nothing for Trev to sign. I reached for some napkins and asked the bartender if he could spare a pen. He grabbed one from under the bar, and I handed both the napkins and the pen to Trev. As he was signing, I gave Isaac’s arm a light squeeze to reassure him. He shook his head, abashed, and I knew he thought he’d made a show of himself. He hadn’t. He was just shy. It happened to the best of us around famous people.
It was still surreal to think of Trev as a celebrity.
“Here ya go,” said Trev, handing the signed napkin to Isaac. I noticed he’d written a little note, too. Moments like these I saw the kind-hearted, struggling friend from years ago.
“Thank you so, so much. You don’t know what this means. I’m so happy I got to meet you.”
“Isaac’s a free runner, too,” I told Trev. “He’s pretty good,” I lied, hoping it might bolster his confidence.
“Oh yeah?” Trev asked, suddenly interested. “You ever think about going professional?”
Parkour was a growing sport, but it was difficult to find new people who were truly skilled. I knew this from all my time spent with Trev over the years. If Isaac had any talent, then I was sure Trev would be more than happy to connect him with the right people.
“No, I’m not sure I’m as good as Reya makes out,” said Isaac modestly, shooting me a questioning look.
“If Reya says you’re good then I believe her. How about you stop by tomorrow and we can go on a run? We’re filming at the Atomium all day.”
“Seriously?” Isaac breathed, like he couldn’t believe his luck.
“Sure,” said Trev with a kind smile.
“Okay, uh, yes, I’ll be there. Thank you again. I better go now. Mum likes me to be home before midnight.” And with that, he went. I pulled Trev’s arm from around my waist and turned to face the bar. He took the stool next to mine.
“Was I ever that innocent?” Trev asked, chuckling.
“Nope. I can say with one hundred per cent certainty that you weren’t. He’s cuter than a puppy. I think I might want to adopt him.”
“Don’t say that. You’ll make me jealous again,” he teased.
I glanced at him sideways and smirked.
“So,” he went on. “Exactly how good is he?”
Now I laughed. “I have no idea.”
“But you said—”
“I was lying so you’d take an interest in him and it worked.”
“Reya,” Trev scolded. “You probably just saddled me with a kid who’s gonna be afraid to jump off a four-foot wall.”
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. I’m sure he’s good. He’s probably only about eighteen and he’s already ripped to bits. You don’t get a body like that from not practicing.”
Trev arched a brow. “How do you now he’s ripped?”
I tapped the side of my temple. “I can just tell. A lady’s intuition.”
He grinned and leaned closer, his elbows resting on the bar top. “Oh yeah? And what else can you tell with your lady’s intuition?”
“Plenty.”
“Enlighten me,” he challenged. What was it about Trevor Cross’s challenges that I couldn’t seem to back away from? I went all in.
“Well, for one, I can tell whether or not a man will be good in bed.”
He smiled so wide it practically split his face. “Oh, now this I have to hear.”
“It’s all in the walk. A confident, sure walk indicates a confident, sure lover.”
Trev chuckled. “You crack me up, Reyrey.”
I smiled and tipped my glass to my lips as Trev asked, “So, what does my walk say?”
I shook my head fervently. “I’m not touching that one.”
He pouted. “You’re no fun.” A pause as he shot me a dark look and muttered low, “Guess you don’t need to examine my walk.”
I narrowed my gaze playfully. “I knew you’d sink to that level.”
“That’s because you know me best.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
He tilted his head, curious. “No?”
“Even in the days when I thought I knew everything there was to know about you, you were still a bit of a mystery.”
Our gazes locked as he replied, “Must be that poker face of mine.”
“Must be,” I agreed quietly.
A moment passed before he said, “You were amazing tonight, by the way. That song you opened with fucking killed me.” The husky tone of his voice had me glancing away. That was the Trevor Cross I first met so many years ago. A friendly joker who somehow sounded suggestive and provocative at the same time.