Chapter 13 #2
“If I remember correctly, you’re the one who likes to bite,” he whispers into my ear. The little hairs on my neck start to prickle, but even in my loose and drunken state, I refuse to back down with Matt Warner.
“Matt, not here,” I whisper defiantly, unable to stop myself from glaring at him. “We’re with my fucking team.”
“Later, then?” He gives me a cheeky grin, then quickly shakes it off.
“All jokes aside, I want you to know I respect your feelings on the matter. If it’s what you want, we’ll keep our relationship strictly professional and friendly.
But I have this feeling . . . Is that actually what you want?
” he says, his mouth dangerously close to that little place just behind my ear as he leans even farther in, handing me a shot from a large tray in the middle of the table.
I don’t think I can do this. Be this close to him. Hide how much I want him in this moment—and any moment, for that matter.
“I’ve had enough. Have to keep my wits about me,” I say, pushing the shot glass away, starting to feel like I’m in dangerous territory. Drunk, flirtatious, and entirely sweet Matt is doing nothing to help hide the memory of what happened on the street a few nights ago.
“I’m sorry,” he says, entirely serious. “Please stay.”
“Probably best I go. I don’t do karaoke anymore.”
“Well, that’s too bad, because I actually already chose us a song,” he says, pulling an awkward face.
I snap my head around to look at him, his eyes a little glazed, a smile on his face.
“I hope you did not,” I say.
“I certainly did.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Matt,” I reply, trying to laugh despite the mortification. “Cancel it. Just let Archie do ‘Addicted to Love’ and let’s all get out of here.”
He shrugs, a smug look on his pretty face.
“I mean it. Cancel it,” I say, hauling myself up. I wander through the club searching for Keyla, elbowing my way past throngs of drunk twentysomethings. I spot McLaren in the opposite corner to us, but no Keyla. Damn it.
My stomach knots as I push into the quiet of the bathroom.
I stare at myself hard in the mirror. It is now clear to me how deluded I was back then, because this Matt? The one out there? He wants me. I can feel it in every intense glance. In every touch of his hand on my arm.
Still, I don’t trust it. What if I’m just some plaything? What if he only fancies me because I’m what’s in front of him at this vulnerable point in his life? What if it doesn’t mean something to him in the way it does to me? And yet, as I think it, I’m not sure I believe it.
“What have you gotten yourself into, Chloe?” I say to my reflection, and then I sigh, heavily, just as another woman emerges from the adjacent stall.
“Men, right?” she says, pulling out an eyeliner.
“Keyla!” I say, spinning around, pulling her in for a hug. “I looked everywhere.”
“I saw you,” she says, pulling back, laughing. “Was waiting for the right moment to slip across the aisle and party with the competition.”
“I think I’m going home,” I say, grimacing.
“Matt?”
“Matt.” I don’t say any more, but instead study myself in the mirror, looking for the answer in the purple shadows beneath my eyes. I’m exhausted. I cannot lose myself to Matt and whatever this is. I can’t. I have to protect my fledgling career first and foremost.
“I saw it the other night,” she says, turning to me, the music thrumming through the bathroom walls. “The way you two looked at each other.”
“I gave it all away, didn’t I?” I say pitifully.
“The way he looks at you, Chloe.” She bites her lip as though she doesn’t want to elaborate. Then she sighs. “Honestly, it’s like he has real feelings for you.”
“Oh god.” I glance around the room and lower my voice. “I wish we could talk properly,” is all I can squeeze out. “I’m really struggling.”
“You wanna split?” she asks. “Give me, like, an hour?”
I nod. “Maybe. I might be gone before then with the way this night is headed.”
Keyla slumps against the wall. “I just worry for you, Chloe,” she says. “I want you to be happy, and maybe Matt is the person who can do that. It would just look so bad. Maybe when you’ve proved yourself, in time . . . but now?”
“It’s impossible,” I say, my voice almost a whisper.
“Imagine if the press found out.”
“We already kissed, Keyla,” I confess, my eyes dropping to the floor.
Her face sags as her eyes rake over me, sympathy radiating.
“Well, if you can’t stop it,” she says, sighing, “you’re going to need a burner phone and nerves of steel.”
I laugh wearily and we hug. “I’ll call you in Mexico,” I say as we push our way into the crowd and head in opposite directions. But right as I leave Keyla’s side, ready to shut this night down, I hear the announcement of my nightmares.
“Next up we have Bug and Dials. Bug and Dials in the house?”
Did I hear that right?
Matt is craning his neck to look for me, and when our eyes meet, he waves cheerily.
I could run. Right now. I could go back and grab my handbag and run out of the club.
“Come on, Bug. You’re up,” Matt says, looking pleased with himself.
“Bug! Bug! Bug!” shout the team, fist-pumping the air.
“Bug? Yikes,” Michelle says, showing me all her teeth in a smile that is 80 percent grimace.
“Great,” I say, glaring at Archie and Matt. “How the hell do I get them to respect a boss called Bug?”
“I don’t know, but don’t leave your crowd waiting,” says Archie, motioning that we need to hurry, as Matt pushes me toward the stage, his hand on my lower back.
“Come on, boss, your team have been waiting.”
I know what the song is going to be before we even get to the stage, and I pick up the microphone and sigh loudly into it, causing it to squeal.
Classic. Absolutely classic. I hold my hand up like a visor and peer around the room at all the faces staring in my direction.
The memory comes flooding back, and when I look over at Matt, he appears utterly delighted with himself.
The familiar piano chords of “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” begin and I turn to Matt, who grabs my hand, and I snarl at him, yanking my hand back to hoots and cheers from the audience.
“Matt, you’re a pain in the arse, you know that?” I shout over the music.
“Memories, Bug,” he says, laughing.
I know he’s a little tipsy, but it floors me that he remembers this song. Our song.
It was a karaoke night at the Star and Crown a few weeks before Matt was leaving for Rossini.
He pulled a reluctant me onstage then too, and we laughed and squealed our way through this very tune.
Matt was holding my hand. Archie was there.
All the other drivers. I stumbled off the stage, deliriously happy, and smacked straight into Jack Sheppard.
“You’re so in love with him,” Jack said, rolling his eyes, laughing, as he draped his arm around my shoulder. “Don’t make a fool of yourself.”
I recall it so clearly now. The abject humiliation. Being called out so brutally. But still, I was grateful. It was the smack in the face I needed.
“Don’t go breaking my heart,” Matt sings, his voice warm and gravelly and almost in tune. And yet, here he is, a different Matt, in a different time, and now . . . is it any different?
“I couldn’t if I tried,” I say back dryly, the sarcasm dripping off my vocals. The room erupts in laughter, which eases the tension a little, and I glare between him and the karaoke screen as we continue to sing, as if I need any help to remember the lyrics to this song.
“Right from the start . . .”
“I gave you my heart.” I half sing, half speak the line and Matt grins at me.
He has no idea how loaded this fucking song is for me.
It’s enough. I stare up at the ceiling, purposefully singing badly off-key, willing the song to end. Matt tries to grab my hand again, but I edge away from him to the end of the stage.
I’m embarrassed as hell. With myself more than anything. I feel like everyone in that booth can tell exactly what’s going on, and they’re going to judge me for it. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be singing on a stage with Matt Warner.
I’m going home.
When I’m done singing, but before the music is even over, I head back to the table, forcing a smile and offering a little bow to the team.
They applaud and cheer as I fight the heat in my cheeks.
“Have fun!” I say as I grab my handbag and rush out into the heat of the night.