Chapter 4 Christopher
Friday
At first, I thought it was just hunger pains. But when I smelled the coffee and saw a short brown-haired woman walk past my room and into Alexander’s room next door with a croissant, the pang in my chest tells me otherwise.
I’m sure she’s just part of the team, but a quick look at my watch tells me it’s just past nine and the bald guy had said Alex’s glam wasn’t till ten. Shaking my head and closing my door behind me, I try to stop myself from thinking that she, rather than an alarm, is his morning wake-up call.
By the time I make my way down to the elevator, a flurry of activity is happening in the Tower Suite opposite of my room.
Three different entrances are being used to load things in—makeup cases, clothes, and a variety of food and beverages, including a tray of pastries and fruit.
The gold plaques on either side of the suite’s main door scream Notice Me!
and seem more befitting for a pop star of Alex’s popularity than the room next to mine.
But then as my therapist says, when we assume, it makes an ass out of u and me.
When no one’s looking, I nick a jam tart and escape into the elevator, smirking at my reflection in the gold-plated doors as they close.
I slide the tart into my mouth. I need all the energy I can get today.
Another yawn escapes my mouth involuntarily as I reach the gym reception, reminding me that the sleeping pills, peppermint tea, and blackout blinds all failed to fight off my jet lag and insomnia and allow me to sleep.
You’d think, given my travel-heavy job in international marketing, that I’d have found something that works by now, but no.
For a hotel, the gym reception seems over staffed.
Two women who’ve clearly spent a bit too much time with a cosmetologist are crammed behind a small white desk.
A third hovers against a shelf full of towels, reapplying lipstick.
All are preoccupied with each other, gossiping like girls at a prom.
They don’t notice me until I approach the desk.
“Can we help you, sir?” one asks when I pause, trying to work out where the gym is. She gives me a wide smile.
“First time here?” another asks. She bumps the first girl out of the way with her hip, and throws her a side eye, wiping the smile from her face.
“Yes,” I respond bluntly. I’m in no mood for this.
She looks at me, but I only stare.
“Well, let me show you around,” she says. She cocks her head toward a door next the desk, waves her key card over the door’s reader and then motions me forward.
Just as I’m about to walk through, a dark shadow fills the space, exposing the security guard I’d almost had an altercation with the night before.
Great.
“We need a cleaner in the gym.”
His icy tone startles the woman leading me in. She turns and power walks down the hall without uttering another word, leaving me stuck with him.
Maybe I should try being a little more accommodating this time.
“Can I offer a hand?” I force a smile on my face, dialing it back slightly to make it more natural. See? I can be nice.
“I need you to stay right there,” he says, a hand stretched out to stop me.
A rush of adrenaline goes through me, and I snap back into the snarky tone I’d used last night without thinking.
“Where do you get off telling people what they need to do?” I cross my arms. “Last time I checked, the King hadn’t died and anointed you the new king of England. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get on with my workout.”
“I do mind.” He moves a step forward, blocking my path. His eyes widen as they stare down at me.
I quickly evaluate my options. Duck under his arm? Knee him in the groin? Before I get a chance to either act or respond, a cleaner appears with a mop and bucket to clean up whatever mess he’s made.
Now that the mountain’s focus is off me, I’m free to follow them into the gym, where I’m greeted by an overwhelming odor of vomit.
“Bing, bang, bong. Clean up on aisle three. Clean up on aisle three.” The words escape my mouth before I think twice about it.
The cleaner and security guard both look over their shoulders back at me. I shrug and wave my hand at the window and treadmill with spew all over them.
It’s only when I hear a slight chuckle that I notice Alexander emerging from behind the pillar in the middle of the room. All the color has drained from his face. A hand towel is thrown over his shoulder, and his bare torso reveals abs so defined it’s like DaVinci carved him out of marble.
The plastic bag in his hand, holding what must be his gym top, hovers close to the shortest shorts I’ve ever seen.
They accentuate his thick thighs and a bulging crotch that looks even bigger in person.
He must have caught me gazing a little too long, because he coughs, bringing my attention back up to his face.
“God, you’re a sight for Stevie Wonder’s eyes,” I say.
“You’re quite the comedian, aren’t you?” He arches his left eyebrow, and the right side of his lips move in a slight uptick.
I go to take a bow, but he quickly turns his attention to his security guard.
“Could you run this up to the room and bring me down another top?” He holds the bag out.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” The security guard nods at me.
Alexander hesitates. I see the flicker of doubt appear on his face.
“You heard the man,” I say, injecting myself into the conversation.
“I don’t take orders from you,” he says back. The frown line deepens in his forehead. It’s so deep that I momentarily wonder whether Botox would be enough to fix it, or if Polyfilla would do a better job.
“Can you two just fuck and get this sexual tension over with already?” Alexander says, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.
“He’s not my type,” I say to Alexander, with an ooo-kay undertone. “No offense,” I say to the security guard, shrugging my shoulders.
“Some taken,” he responds, stifling a laugh, and for a moment, I see him softening.
“I’ll be alright, Rob, I promise. I just need to finish this workout. And anyway, I’m feeling a lot better now that I’ve been sick.” Some of the color is returning to Alex’s cheeks.
“If you’re sure? I’ll be five minutes max.” Rob grabs the bag from Alexander. The two share a knowing glance with each other and then look at me.
“I think I can handle myself if he ends up posing a threat,” Alexander says, pointing his thumb at me.
“I’m not so sure. I do have a blackbelt in origami.” I place my hands on my hips and arch my brows, triggering another laugh from Alexander as Rob looks on with a perplexed expression.
Clearly his sense of humor isn’t as strong as his physicality.
“You know… to fold you into an aeroplane and turn you into a flying fuck I no longer give.” I motion flinging a paper plane at him.
Rob opens his mouth to respond, but Alexander stops him, patting him on the chest.
“I’ll be fine, and anyway, I could use someone to spot me with the weights.” He looks at me to see if I am down, and although I had planned to go for a run to fight off the jet lag and mentally prepare for lunch with my mum, this isn’t such a bad alternative.
“Sure,” I say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible to prevent Alexander from getting any inclination that I might enjoy this.
Rob leaves with the cleaner, who’s managed to remove all remnants of vomit from the gym, leaving us alone.
There are probably a million people who would kill to be in my position.
Alexander makes his way over to the bench press, grabbing the thirty-two kilo dumbbell weights, and lies back in preparation to lift them, leaving me to follow.
“Big night?” I ask.
There’s a nervousness in my tone that reminds me of that first date feeling. I’ve never been a fan of small talk, but what do you say to someone with this level of fame?
“Oh, the vomit,” he says, pushing the weights up and down above his chest. “No, just woke up feeling crappy this morning. Must be a bug or something.”
“Yeah, right,” I laugh, rolling my eyes.
His exhales get louder with each push up of the dumbbells.
My eyes drift down his body, skimming his washboard abs—he definitely has an eight-pack—and pausing on the bulge in his shorts that I couldn’t help but dream about last night.
“I could barely sleep for hearing those girls screaming your name in ecstasy.”
“What girls?” he snaps. He drops the weights and gets up off the bench.
“Calm down, treacle,” I say, trying to recover the easy camaraderie we’d just had. “I mean the ones outside the hotel who accosted me when I arrived. They were still chanting your name when I tried to sleep.”
I can see why they’d be screaming his name. Those blue eyes, that chiseled jaw, the body that’s just the right amount of muscular, all adds up to a breathtaking whole.
“Oh God, I’m sorry. Did they keep you up for long?” He stares intently at me.
I debate whether to tell him the truth: I didn’t sleep at all, and that it wasn’t helped by the endless videos I had watched of him on TikTok. But I opt for the easier path instead.
“I managed to get off round two-thirty, three. Don’t they keep you up?”
“Noise-cancelling headphones,” he says, retrieving them from his pocket and shaking them at me. “They’re a godsend. You should get a pair.”
I feel a wild surge inside from the way he smiles at me. How can a man as devilishly handsome as this be engaging in conversation with me?
“Wanna swap?” He motions to the bench.
“You are joking right?” My gaze is drawn to the dumbbells. “These guns can barely lift ten kilograms, let alone thirty-two.”
Before I know it, Alexander is gripping my left bicep leaving me no time to flex to try and save face at how scrawny I am in comparison to him. A surge of electricity rolls across my skin, forcing my body hair to stand upright and my cheeks to flush.
“It’s not so bad,” he says, letting go. “Here, let me grab you a couple of fifteens, and we’ll see if we can get you to bench that.”