Chapter 19
NINETEEN
______
JOHNNY
I take the stairs two at a time on the way up to Calum’s apartment.
My heart is freaking out inside my chest, even though I know he won’t be home.
He mentioned in the band’s group chat this morning he’ll be in meetings at Rush all afternoon.
That’s the only reason I’ve taken the risk of coming here.
We’ve done our best to stay away from each other in the last couple of weeks. The moment we shared in the foyer of the recording studio proved how close we are to breaking. One temptation too many will have us both giving in.
Even now, my imagination is going wild at the idea of him opening the door to find me standing here.
We’d both be surprised, unprepared, vulnerable.
Maybe he would yank me over the threshold, his mouth on mine as the door slammed closed, hiding us from the world.
A quiet groan from my own throat snaps me out of my delusion, and I swear under my breath.
“Get a grip, Johnny.” Paper crinkles and I look down at the carefully wrapped gift I’m clutching.
Cartoon Santa Claus heads smirk up at me, as if amused by how separated from reality I’ve become.
The swapping of gifts for Christmases and birthdays isn’t something we normally do within the band.
We decided early on to skip the stress of it all and celebrate the milestones of life by sharing a meal or going to a concert.
The time we spend together has always been more important than anything we could find in a store.
Which is why I snooped for Cal’s address and came here, rather than handing him the gift when I saw him earlier in the week.
If one of the guys had caught me, they would have thought it was weird.
They might have asked questions. I don’t want to lie to them anymore than I already have.
I should dump the gift on the welcome mat and make a run for it.
Just in case. Except, now I see how exposed his front door is to the other apartments, I’m not sure this is the safest place to leave it.
It could get stolen. It’s just a stupid novelty mug with World’s Best Manager printed on it.
When I saw it in the gift store it reminded me of Calum, and I couldn’t help but smile.
I wanted him to have it, as a token of my appreciation for all he’s done for the band.
That’s what I told myself. Really, I like the idea of him using something I gave him every day.
He’ll be reminded of me each morning when he takes his first sip of coffee, and I want him thinking of me… relentlessly.
Given our circumstances, I’m pretty sure that means I’m still a selfish prat.
The flick of a lock sounds behind the plain white door and I jump to attention, panic streaking through me.
The door opens a few centimetres, the security chain still attached. “Can I help you?” A young woman stares at me with narrowed green eyes. A riot of ginger curls frames her pale face. She looks so much like her brother, I could have picked her out of a line-up.
“Hi, um…” I glance into the room behind her, but don’t see anyone else. “Calum isn’t home, is he?”
“No.” There’s more staring while she inspects me from head to toe. “Can I take a message?”
“No.” If her response was clipped, mine is closer to a flinch.
Her gaze flits down to the package in my hands.
I thrust it in her direction. “Could you give him this?” The damned thing has caused more angst than it’s worth. “It’s for Christmas.”
“I can see that.” She extends one arm to accept the gift. It’s barely narrow enough to fit through the gap.
“It’s nothing, really. I just wanted…” I have no idea how to finish the sentence. I don’t even know why I’m here.
“Okaaay,” she drawls the word, looking at me like I’m some creeper. She wouldn’t be half wrong. “I’ll make sure he gets it.”
“Right, thanks.” Twisting my lips into an awkward smile, I lift a hand in farewell. “Have a good one, Hannah.”
I’m turning away when she speaks again. “You know my name?”
“Of course.” I gesture to her curls. “The ginger gives you away.” Her eyes roll, but her lips quirk upwards at one corner.
“Calum talks about you all the time,” I tell her.
Okay, he doesn’t really. Not with the rest of the band.
But he used to… with me. I smile at a favourite memory.
“I knew your name before I knew his.” It was one of the things that attracted me to Cal as a person, his obvious love for his younger sister.
“Oh,” she whispers, her eyes widening, “you’re the one.”
I shake my head, frowning. “The one what?”
“I mean, you’re—” She grunts in exasperation before slamming the door in my face. My eyebrows lift, but then I hear the clinking of the security chain before the door opens wide. “You’re Johnny, right?”
Smiling, I offer my hand. “Guilty as charged. It’s great to meet you.”
“You, too,” she says as we shake.
“So… Calum’s mentioned me, huh?”
She shrugs a shoulder. “Once or twice.”
A spark of delight lights up inside me, and some of the glow must escape through my pores or something, because Hannah gives a smug snort. “I do believe I’ve made your day.”
“What?” My eyes widen in panic. “No, I mean…” Shifting on my feet, I try to think of a way to cover my mistake. “We work together. Well, he works for my band.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “By telling you all what to do?”
Huffing out a laugh, I nod. “Pretty much, yeah.”
Those shrewd green eyes study me before she says, “I was about to put on the kettle. Join me for a cuppa?”
“I probably shouldn’t.” I glance behind me, as if Calum could appear on the stairs at any moment. Which is actually true, so…
“He won’t be home for at least a couple of hours,” she says, before opening the door wider in invitation.
I absolutely, positively should say no. I mean, technically I’m not breaking any rules by being here, but I know Calum wouldn’t want me in his home, spending time with his sister.
Still, standing here with the one person who knows Cal best, the person he loves above all others, I find myself helpless to say no.
“I can stay for a few minutes,” I say, walking through the doorway.
“Great.” Hannah grins and, in that moment, she reminds me so much of her brother, my heart actually skips a beat.
“How did you know I was out there?” I ask as she closes the door.
“I heard weird noises and looked through the peephole. Watched you dance about looking for the perfect place to put your offering.” She gestures to the gift before bending to put it under a small, but brightly decorated, Christmas tree. “It was pretty funny.”
I hang my head. “I’ll bet. I hope I didn’t scare you.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t have a serial killer vibe.”
“That’s good to know.”
“You seem more like the stalker type.”
My eyes close on a groan. Hannah definitely knows the full extent of my weirdness. “I was not stalking your brother,” I say, lifting my arms into a defensive position. “I followed him for a short distance, to see where he ended up.” She stares at me. I stare back. “Like a total stalker.”
We both burst out laughing.
“Don’t worry,” she says, heading into the kitchen. “Your secret is safe with me.”
While Hannah’s busy in the kitchen, I wander around the living room of their tiny apartment, hoarding every detail.
An old cork board on the wall is covered with takeaway menus, concert flyers, and photos of Calum and Hannah—together and apart.
No photos of them with their parents, though.
A small television is flanked by two bookcases.
One is filled with books. The other houses a wide collection of CDs, some vinyls, even a handful of beat-up cassette tapes.
In the corner, beside the music collection, sit two acoustic guitars, dust free and gleaming.
I turn to look at Hannah, gesturing to the instruments. “You play?”
A multitude of expressions cross her face as her mouth works in a prelude to actual words. “The one on the right belongs to Cal,” she says, finally.
My hand reaches out, a single finger stroking the top of the neck. “Do you think he’d mind, if I…”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Pluck his strings?”
Warmth rushes into my face, and Hannah snickers with wicked delight. “Go ahead. He won’t mind a bit.”
Lifting the guitar from its stand, I sit on the couch with it propped on my knee.
I run loving fingers over the body before my hands fall into position.
I pick out a simple melody, testing the strings.
Of course, they’re perfectly in tune. I switch to something more intricate, eyes closing as my fingers move of their own accord.
The knowledge Cal plays these same strings, makes music with them, has my fingertips tingling.
It’s pathetic, the lengths I’ll go to, just to feel close to him.
I’ve long since given up caring. My feelings for him are real, even if our involvement is a thing of past.
“What are you playing?” My eyes open to see Hannah sitting in the armchair to my right. Two steaming mugs sit on the large, wooden coffee table before us. “I haven’t heard it before,” she says, her gaze focused on my hands.
I hadn’t even noticed I’d switched gears again. “This is new,” I tell her. “The melody is set, but the lyrics…” I grimace. “They’re a work in progress.”
She listens for a little longer before asking, “Can I hear them?”
My nose wrinkles. “I don’t sing.”
“Please?” She’s perched on the edge of the cushion now. “It’s just me. I promise not to judge.”
I take a deep breath, my hands stilling as I look at her. Leaning over the guitar, I lift the mug to take a sip of tea and then clear my throat. “You asked for it,” I say, getting back into position.
“I did.” Her nod is solemn. “Do your worst.”