Chapter 11 #2
Robbie shouts back something unintelligible that sounds a lot like: “suit yourself” as we step inside my bedroom. I shut the door as Liam looks around, taking in the place. I walk over to my nightstand and turn the reading lamp on and the ceiling lights off.
The nerves are impossible to ignore.
Liam sits on the bed and taps the spot beside him.
“Hey,” I say, sitting next to him. My hair is down, and he’s taking his sweet time tucking it behind my ears.
“You’re beautiful.” He leans in, his gaze scanning my face and settling on my lips.
I run my fingers through his buttery light brown hair, and he dives right into another kiss.
He pushes my shoulders gently back on the bed, his lips still on mine.
He squeezes my hips and breaks off the kiss. “I don’t like your new coach.”
I can’t help but laugh softly against his lips.
“And why would that be?” I drop a soft, playful peck on his lips.
“I didn’t fancy seeing you two holding hands in those photographs,” he confesses. “I want to be the one to do that. Not him.”
Jealousy pushed him to seek me out. It’s clear now.
“We got split up by the paparazzi, and they were closing in on me. Henry had to grab me and push our way out of there,” I explain, my fingers curling around his jaw as I cup his face. “Are you jealous?”
I like it when he is. It’s always adorable. Just like this, never overbearing.
“You bet I am,” he breathes, dragging a finger down my cheek and jawline. “He’s hot.”
I laugh. “How jealous?” My hands slide around his neck.
He places his lips on my ear and says, “Like I-want-to-do-something-naughty-to-you-to-teach-you-a-lesson kind of jealous.” I know he’s only saying this to give me a rush.
“That makes two of us,” I agree with him. Now I remember why I was mad at him: the photographs with that stunning redhead.
“Why? Did Gemma finally convince you to watch that movie I told you to avoid?” he says, and I laugh again.
There’s this movie in which Liam kisses the hell out of his co-star, among other things, and I’m not feeling inclined to watch it anytime soon.
Easing out of the laughter, I look away with a frown. As much as I never want to see that movie, it’s all pretend. But Liam taking that girl to my tennis match was real.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I saw photos of you at the Open,” I say. “With a pretty redhead.”
“You mean Billie?” He snorts and shakes his head twice. He seems to be a second away from rolling his eyes at me. He better not.
“I don’t know her name, but I’m sure you do.”
I’m annoyed by it all over again. But I take a deep breath, trying to remain vigilant of my feelings and careful not to let them take control over me. I’m trying to communicate them to him without reacting.
“Billie’s a good friend,” he says, drawing a line down my back with a finger.
I try hard not to react to his touch, but I can’t help it.
“She broke up with her boyfriend during the summer. It was a pretty serious relationship, and she was struggling with that and other personal stuff, so I wanted to cheer her up and invited her to come with me.”
“And how do you know she’s not misinterpreting your friendly gestures for something else?”
“You have no idea who I’d be competing against,” he scoffs. “Not that I’m interested in doing so. Besides, one of the first things I told Billie the day I met her was that I’m into brunettes. A brunette.”
I lift my chin and look away as I gnaw my lower lip. I like his answers, but I want him to keep convincing me because it’s fun.
“Fuck it. I’m calling her.” Liam pulls his phone from his pocket and taps his screen.
“Wait. What for?” I ask with a nervous laugh. “Liam, don’t. That’s not necessary.
He ignores me and puts the call on speaker.
The phone rings a few times, and I secretly hope it goes to voicemail. But it doesn’t. A sweet, sleepy voice answers the phone.
“Liam?” She clears her throat.
“Hey, Red! You’re on speaker with Belén,” Liam clues her in. “Please tell me you’re not sleeping. It’s bloody eight in the evening.”
“Hi, Belén,” she whispers. “I was asleep, you dumbass. It’s three a.m. over here.”
“Baby, is everything okay?” a grave, husky voice coos in the background. Liam widens his eyes at me and covers his gaping mouth with a hand, his shock unmistakable.
“Yes. It’s Liam,” Billie replies to the man. “I’ll take the call outside on the balcony. Go back to bed, baby. You haven’t slept in two days.”
Liam mouths OH, MY GOD, and I don’t understand two shits of what’s going on, but I can’t deny that I’m intrigued.
“I’m sorry about that,” Billie says casually. Too casually. “So, what’s up, guys?”
“Was … that … a bluefin tuna talking in the background?” Liam asks with a laugh. “Where the hell are you, and why hasn’t Tobias called to fill me in with the deets?”
“Oh, shut up, Liam,” Billie says with a laugh. “Belén, I’m sure you’ve been introduced to Liam’s busybody tendencies. But wait until you see Tobias and Liam together. It’s like being on one of those live talk shows.”
I laugh. I know who Tobias Sjoberg is, of course. He’s a famous actor like Liam. Gemma is obsessed with him. But I’ve never met him. Liam talks about him often. They’re close. But I still don’t understand who Billie’s with or why it’s such a big deal for Liam.
“You either tell me yourself, or I’ll call Tobias right now and get his version of the facts,” Liam warns her. “I’d rather give my version if I were you. You know how Tobias tends to … embellish things.” He laughs.
“I came after the bluefin tuna,” she whispers again. “I’m in South Africa.”
“Noooooo!” Liam shouts and cracks into a full belly laugh. “My, my, my. This is … wow. Marvelous! I’m still calling Tobias, though. I’m sure you’re expecting that anyway.”
Billie laughs and says, “Do whatever you have to do. Just … try to be discreet. Please. Few people know I’m here.”
Liam presses the mute button and says, “That voice you heard on the background belongs to William Sjoberg.”
Wait … Is this girl dating William Sjoberg?
I’m gaping at the phone now, and Liam nods in confirmation as if reading my mind. Liam’s best friend, Tobias Sjoberg, is William’s brother. They’re both famous Hollywood actors, but William’s on a whole other level.
“Tell Liam to fuck off and come back to bed,” we hear William say as Liam unmutes the call.
Billie laughs, and Liam does too. I’m still starstruck.
“Why don’t you guys call me sometime during the week? I’m seven hours ahead and usually alone most of the day since William’s re-filming a few scenes over here. But I would love to get to know you better, Belén.”
“Sounds good, Billie,” I say, embarrassed of being too quick to judge and feeling jealous for no reason. “We’ll talk some other time.”
“It was nice hearing from you guys. We’ll talk soon.”
“Bye, Red.” Liam ends the call and stretches his arm to place his phone on my nightstand. “See what I mean?”
“Was that the William Sjoberg?”
“It certainly was,” Liam says with a lifted brow. “So what do you say? Do I stand a chance with Billie?”
“Not in the slightest.” I push Liam back on the bed, and his head lands on the pillows.
“Hey!” he complains with a laugh. “Yeah, who are we kidding? That guy is pretty much a Norse God reincarnated.”
“He is.”
“Okay, that’s enough.” Liam pulls me on top of him, still laughing. “I get it. The whole world gets it.”
“He doesn’t have your pretty lashes, though.” I run a finger around his eye and stare at him.
“He does not.” He kisses me, and I’m feeling overflowed with happiness. It was nice to talk to Liam about my feelings without it escalating into an ugly fight. It gives me hope. Maybe I can change.
“What happens if I spend the night?” Liam asks with caution.
“You would make me very happy.”
He’s never stayed any later than 11:00 p.m., and even if the thought of getting caught makes me nervous, another considerable part of me wants him to stay. I wouldn’t mind being held by him all night.
“But you’ll have to leave before Carmen or Tony arrive because they won’t hesitate to tell my dad, and I don’t think you’d be allowed to set foot in this place ever again if they did.”
“I’ll leave at six a.m. Does that work for you?”
“That’s perfect.”
Liam flips me, moves on top of me, straddles my hips with his knees, and leans toward the nightstand lamp. “Lights on or off?”
“On.”
“Even better.”
Liam’s fast asleep, and I open my eyes after a couple of hours of tossing and turning without being able to fully relax. As much as I tried, my stomach wouldn’t stop growling, demanding sustenance.
A glass of milk and cookies usually does the trick, so I remove Liam’s arm around my waist and tiptoe to the kitchen, wearing an oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts. I’ve no idea what time it is, but the lights are out in the apartment.
2:17 a.m., my microwave informs me.
Damn it …
The thought of waking up in a few hours for practice makes me want to throw up.
After pulling out the milk carton, I close the fridge and let out a startled cry when I notice a tall silhouette standing in front of me.
“Jesus, Henry!” I whisper-shout, setting the carton on the counter. “You almost gave me a heart attack!” I slap his shoulder and he snorts out a laugh. He quickly gathers himself, and a deep line forms between his brows.
“You should be resting,” he says, crossing his arms at his chest. “Not awake, roaming around the kitchen at this hour, and—”
“I couldn’t sleep,” I cut him off before he can start lecturing me, moving around him to grab a glass from the cabinet.
“No shit.” His eyes scan me from head to toe as if trying to decipher the reason behind my insomnia.
I turn my back to him, unable to hold his gaze any longer, and pour myself a glass.
“He’s still in there, isn’t he?” He narrows his eyes at me, wordlessly warning me to be truthful with my answer.