32. James
Chapter 32
James
I haven’t heard from April. I’ve just returned home from practice with the lads, and it’s late. I played like shit. My mind is all over the place, and the guys noticed. Tom was obviously pissed at me, and I can’t blame him. I was missing notes and out of rhythm, so it fucked up his timing with vocals. Oliver shot me a few knowing glances, which pierced straight through me. I haven’t told Will and Tom about April and I, because frankly, I don’t want to. We’re getting too close to the audition, and the last thing I want to do is encumber them with worries about my personal life. Not until I know where April and I stand.
Every part of me aches. My stomach growls, and all I crave is a hot shower to wash away the exhaustion. I stride to the bathroom. Dark circles hang under my eyes, and my hair is a mess. I look as wrecked as I feel.
I step under the spray, tipping my head back to let the hot water pound against my skin. I close my eyes, but no matter how hard I try to shut my thoughts out, she’s there—her face, her laugh, her voice, haunting me. Her absence makes me feel sick, the kind of sick that no amount of distraction can shake.
Is she thinking about him ?
Does she regret what we did? Or worse—is she even thinking about me at all?
This is exactly the kind of distraction I didn’t want.
It’s why I buried my feelings and pushed my desires to the side.
If one night with her affects me this much, what happens if we’re on tour next year?
I shut off the tap and feel uncomfortable with the sudden silence. I can’t stay here trapped with my own thoughts for another second. I need to get this off my mind—I need to see her. Stepping out, I towel off quickly, my skin still semi-damp as I pull on a pair of joggers. The fabric clings to me, and I shove my feet into trainers, tugging on a band T-shirt. I grab my grey beanie, its worn, floppy edges covering my ears as I pull it down snug over my wet hair.
The not-knowing claws at me like an itch I can’t reach. Oliver’s words repeat in my mind.
Then do what Lucas didn’t—chase her.
I shake off the exhaustion and force my limbs into motion. Snatching my keys from the counter, I shove them into my pocket and head out. I can’t be fucked navigating London traffic or the stifling Underground, so I wave down a black cab, sliding into the back seat. My heart pounds in my chest, and all I can think is that I need to get to April.
Right fucking now.