Chapter 20 #3
‘Stop fucking filming,’ Rhys shouts. The man uses Rhys’ slip of concentration to squirm free.
He springs out of Rhy’s grip, launching himself away.
He collides with me and I fall to the floor, my already injured hand taking all the impact.
Searing white hot pain fills my fingers, my palm, my wrist, darkening the edges of my vision.
He scrambles to get up, limbs flailing. His attempt at running away is over-the-top, cartoon-like, but I’m in too much agony to appreciate the hilarity of it.
Rhys grabs him by the collar and shoves him off the dance floor. The crowd swallows them up.
A pair of arms loop over my shoulder, lifting me off the ground and leading me to a quiet corner of the bar.
They force me onto a sofa. Bethan kneels in front of me, pulling my arm from my chest to examine it.
Cai keeps his arm around my shoulder, while Bryn stands guard, talking quickly into his phone.
‘You okay, Lucy?’ Cai asks, pushing my hair out of my face.
It’s not his job to look after me. All of this fuss.
It’s not necessary. I don’t need it. I’m not sure if it’s the cameras still filming me or the way the creep touched me as if he had all of my consent, but my skin itches.
I want to vanish, to get in a taxi and to the house so I can lick my wounds in peace.
The last thing I want is to be the fat girl plastered all over TikTok who needs a famous pop star to play nurse.
They’ll all be singing his praise: Oh, he’s such a lovely guy, while taking the piss out of me.
‘It’s fine. I’m fine.’ When I pull out of his grip and use my injured hand to push up from the sofa, more pain shoots through my wrist. I cry out.
‘Yeah, real fine. Sit down, will you?’ Bethan takes it again, forcing me into my seat.
‘It’s only a sprain,’ I complain.
‘Let her do her job,’ Cai chides. ‘She might not be a doctor, but she knows bones and muscles well enough to determine what’s wrong.’
This is not how I wanted the evening to go. I need Bryn to get off the phone so I can plead with him to take me home. Cai’ll be fine if Rhys is looking after him. They can stay and enjoy the party. I want an ice pack and my bed.
No. What I really want is Rhys to come look after me and for Bryn to stay with Cai.
But he hasn’t returned. My chest is heavy that he’s not here with me now.
Like he doesn’t actually care. I want it to be his fingers running over my sore wrist. His touch is gentler, more measured and warm. Bethan is too clinical.
The crowds around us part, then disperse, and Gethin emerges.
‘All of you leave this area,’ he shouts at the stragglers.
‘Now. Delete any videos you’ve taken. If anything about this reaches social media, you’ll be in breach of your non-disclosures and if you’re a current employee on this tour, your contract will be terminated instantly. ’
I squirm in my seat. Not Gethin. He places a glass of water on the table in front of me then leans over to review the damage. God, I’d take anyone else looking after me, but not my boss.
Bethan speaks before he can. ‘I can’t rule out a break, Lucy. Although you’ve got no deformity, and no loss of sensation, I’m worried about the swelling. You need an x-ray.’
‘I’ll get Rhys to bring the car around.’ Gethin’s moustache moves in time with his words, fast and irritated. I’m in so much trouble.
‘I don’t need to be taken to the hospital. I’ll get a taxi.’
‘We can come with you.’ Cai pats my shoulder.
Gethin harrumphs. ‘I don’t think so. You’re going home. The party’s over. At least for you lot.’
‘I’m so sorry, Cai.’ My eyes burn. ‘You worked so hard to get Rhys to let you out, and I’ve gone and spoiled it for you. You shouldn’t come with me. It’ll cause too much of a fuss.’
He shrugs. ‘It’s fine. I’m tired now anyway. I’ll go with Bryn to find Rhys.’
He doesn’t have to go far. Rhys skirts around the edge of the dancefloor, where all the patrons have forgotten about the incident and are back to dancing.
His shirt is askew, as if someone’s tried to pull it off and a red mark blooms on his cheek.
As he moves, he tugs everything into place, his movements short and snappy.
He’s so pissed off. He better not have done anything stupid.
‘We’re leaving, yeah?’ he snaps at Cai.
‘Lucy needs an x-ray. You should go and—’
‘Bryn can take a taxi with Lucy,’ Gethin intervenes. ‘Rhys, you can drive us to The Rectory.’
Rhys shoots a look at me then shifts to Cai. Then he swallows and nods. ‘Fine. Let’s go.’
It’s Bethan and Cai who help me to my feet and slide their arms around me, even though my legs work perfectly fine.
Rhys leads the way, not once glancing at me or bothering to check if I’m okay.
Each knock of my wrist sends a throb of pain through my hand, but it’s nothing compared to the hurt that the evening hasn’t gone how I wanted it.
Gethin follows us to the door, pulling Rhys to a stop so he can talk to him in whispers.
There’s too much residual noise – the party going on in the club, the racket from the busy city and night, Bethan and Cai rating my punch – so I can’t catch what they’re saying.
A taxi rolls to the curb and Bryn holds the door open for me.
He takes the front seat once Cai has me buckled in.
The car pulls away from the curb slowly enough for me to catch one last glimpse of Rhys.
Hands in pockets, a sullen look on his face, he holds my gaze until I’m too far away. I sink into my seat, and close my eyes.
What a mess.