Chapter 13 Alexander
Monday
It’s been so long since I’ve shared a bed with someone that I’d forgotten what it’s like to wake up, roll over, and find a person there beside you.
Their smell.
The warmth of their body, radiating between the sheets.
The slight sound of their breath as they inhale and exhale.
Sure, I’ve had casual hook-ups in the past. But never do I let them stay. I always make up some reason, some work commitment, that means they need to go.
Last night was different.
Christopher is different.
I needed someone to stay with me.
To hold me in their arms as I fell asleep.
To feel safe.
As Christopher held me tightly, securely, as I snuggled into him—my little spoon to his big spoon—I felt the world just fall away. It was me and him. Safe in the confinement of this bed.
That was until I woke up an hour ago, my dreams shattered by the recurring nightmare of the stalker breaking into my home, and I turned to Christopher, thinking he was Samuel.
The guilt hit me like a sledgehammer when I realized it wasn’t.
Nearly three years on, and I still feel as if I’m cheating on Samuel.
Like somehow, he’s still here and we’re still in a relationship.
I’m sure he’d want me to move on. He’d probably even like Christopher and his sense of humor.
But I can’t help but hate how Samuel was stolen from me.
Just like how everything good in my life is stolen from me.
My freedom.
My trust.
Before last night, even those intimate moments with Christopher.
When I get like this, my team encourages me to channel my feelings into a song.
I turn over at the slight sound of Christopher rustling in the sheets.
The rise and fall of his chest lulls me into a hypnotic state, the same state I often find myself in when riding the ocean waves or down at the skatepark.
A warm feeling rises inside as I study Christopher, his dark-brown hair, the mole on his back. It collides with the painful memories from the past, intertwining and dancing into a melody in my head. Words appear in front of me. Almost as if they’re flowing through me from some higher power.
I’m so familiar with using rage, hurt, and disappointment to fuel my creativity that I’m confused by this additional emotion of joy, but I don’t want to lose it.
I slowly lift the covers, trying not to wake Christopher, and slide out from the bed.
I stretch my hands above my head to let out a yawn before grabbing the pad and pen on the bedside table and heading to the bathroom.
Throwing them to the side, I pee and wash my hands vigorously before closing the lid to sit down, and then I let line after line pour out of me onto the paper.
I saw your face on a Thursday,
You were cool as an ocean breeze,
Turned me into a nervous wreck
And my mouth began to freeze.
I thought about it all Friday,
What I could have done differently,
Need to get myself out this mess
And bring you back to me.
I got to find a way to your heart,
Don’t want this to be over before it starts.
Within ten minutes, I’ve jotted down a whole song.
The lyrics are scattered across three pages, now lined up on the marble countertop in front of the sink.
My heart does cartwheels as I look at my widening smile in the mirror.
I never smile this early in the morning. I’m normally catatonic, pre-coffee.
I quietly make my way back through the bedroom and retrieve my phone from my discarded shorts before returning to the bathroom, where I hum the song’s up-tempo melody into my voice memo app.
The sound echoing off the white marble walls provides the perfect reverb and gives the song an uplifting vibe.
I dance around with glee when I finish, and I instantly dial my musical director, ignoring the fact that it’s barely 8 a.m., and he probably doesn’t have to get up for another hour before we hit Abbey Road.
He answers on the third ring with a yawn, and I immediately run through the song, looking down at the lyrics by the sink.
More harmonies form in my mind as I sing it to him, the track blossoming in my mind like a tree in spring.
By the second chorus, Freddy is humming along with the melody, creating little riffs with his voice.
“Damn, Alex, that song is dope!” he responds as soon as I finish.
“You think?” I briefly wonder if he’s telling me what I want to hear. I never truly know when I write songs if they’re any good. I often think they all are, only to realize that most are mediocre when I listen to them being played back. This time though, I instantly feel connected.
“Yeah, man, you gotta get that track down,” Freddy says, seemingly sharing my enthusiasm.
A thought pops into my head, and I blurt out the words before the critical part of my brain jumps in and prevents me from saying it.
“You think we could work it into today’s recording?” I fiddle with the sheets of notepaper.
“Err…sure.” The hesitation in Freddy’s voice makes me question my thought, but I know it’s a good idea. I reach for the pen, turning the top back and forth, the tip appearing and disappearing like a tortoise’s head.
“We could do a really stripped down version, just me on guitar and you on percussion. It’d be a great bonus track for the fans. They’ve been begging for new music for a year now.” I return my attention to the mirror.
Freddy isn’t the one I’m trying to convince right now. That would be Paul. He’ll likely spout off something about not wanting to put it out just yet. That we’re in the middle of renegotiating the record deal.
I tell Freddy I’ll send him the voice note of the melody so he can listen to it and work on it. Then I hang up, take a picture of the lyrics, and send them over too. I switch over to the thread with Rob before closing the app.
I’m too wired to sleep now, even though I barely got three hours after Christopher and I had finished fucking for the third time. Rob will have to come through with the goods instead.
Morning, can you grab me the usual with an extra shot please?
Rob
You got it boss. Nothing for your guest?
In the excitement of finally being inspired to write again, I’d forgotten all about Christopher still in my bed. I peek around the door to see him still scrunched up under the duvet, sound asleep.
I don’t dare wake him, but I don’t know his coffee order.
Or, come to think of it, what he does for a living or what his schedule is like.
I quickly try and rack my brain to recall what he was drinking when I saw him in the atrium downstairs.
Then I remember it was a Bloody Mary, and I’m sure they don’t serve those here in London at Brewed.
Can you grab him the same please?
Rob thumbs-up the message and I automatically start to slide the phone into my pocket before I realize I’m stark naked.
Boy, do I need that coffee. I shake my head at my reflection in the mirror, and wipe sleep from the corners of my eyes.
I head back to the bed, the cool air from the air conditioning unit making the hairs on my body stand up on end. I place the phone on the bedside table and slide in under the covers, reaching out to drape my left arm across Christopher, who is still lying in the fetal position.
I could breathe him in all day. The lime blossom and orange scent from his hair reminds me of a late summer afternoon, lying in the park, staring up at the sky and watching the clouds go by.
Christopher wiggles slightly, reaching for my hand, and pulls it more tightly across him. I adjust my right hip to snuggle in more tightly and raise both of my legs to come up under his. This time my dick presses up against his ass.
I’ve learned to appreciate slowness when I have a chaotic day ahead. My mornings are sacred, especially before coffee. But this is an addition to my routine that I could get used to.
Just as I allow myself to get lost in the thought, I hear the main door close.
Must be Rob with the coffee. That was quick.
Christopher mumbles something inaudible and I kiss the back of his head, remove my arm, and get up. I try to locate my boxers, but quickly give up. Rob’s seen me naked a million times by now, and it’s not like I’ve got anything to be ashamed of.
“Thanks, you are a miracle worker,” I say.
Rob removes his order—hot and black just like me—as he passes over the cup holder with my usual—cold, dark, and often unavailable—times two.
“No problem, boss.” There’s a weariness in his eyes. The heavy-set bags under each one are a clear sign of sleep deprivation.
“You been up all night?” I ask, removing one of the drinks and taking a sip.
“We’ve been taking it in turns.” He nods toward the door.
I’m assuming he means that there’s another security guy standing guard on the other side.
“Oh, right. Well, I best let you rest a bit before we have to leave.”
“No gym this morning?” He arches his eyebrows.
“I’ve got my own workout back in there.” I wink at him and Rob shakes his head as he turns back to the door and lets himself out.
I reenter the bedroom. Christopher has turned over in the bed and pushed himself up slightly against the headboard. My name is emblazoned across his chest on the T-shirt, peering out from under the covers.
“Do you always greet people naked?” he asks. He rubs his eyes as if they’re deceiving him.
“Only for special deliveries,” I say, waving the coffee at him. I set the cupholder down on the bedside table, and switch on the lamp so I can pull out his drink. Christopher instantly reaches for his eyes.
“You could give me a heads-up before you turn the light on,” he says. He slowly lowers his hands, his face still all scrunched up underneath.
Clearly, Christopher isn’t a morning person either.
“I didn’t have you down as a vampire,” I say, a smirk rising across my face. I hand the iced coffee over to him.