Chapter 16 #2
Luc’s dad, who is yet to speak, laughs at the end of the row.
When I look up, my face is on the big screen opposite, met with cheers. I smile at wherever the camera might be and raise my capless bottle of water.
As soon as the cameras are off, I turn to Luc. ‘Can you really not drink beer here?’
‘You can in there.’ Luc gestures towards the stairs.
‘But I’m sure I’ve seen people drinking beer physically on the pitch?’
‘I think it’s more a football thing than a Wembley thing,’ Luc shrugs.
I take a gulp of my water and readjust my hat.
‘So, any nice plans?’ Leia asks.
Lydia grins. ‘Oh, that’s a great question. I want to know everything.’
‘We don’t have much planned, I don’t think,’ Luc replies. ‘We’ll just see what comes up.’
‘We’ll probably go to the PAAs in New York,’ I smile.
‘Well, I’m definitely going and would love for Luc to come with me.
’ I look at him and he nods slightly. ‘And later next month, there’s a launch party for a second single from the album.
’ I cringe, pulling my lips into my mouth. ‘Sorry, my life is a bit… wild.’
‘And then it’s the tour,’ Luc pipes in.
I look at him and his eyes search mine. We both know what he means by that. We both know it’s nearly the end. That my image will officially be overhauled enough. That it might not matter anyway if my vocal cords are irrevocably damaged.
‘Do you have a plan for the tour?’ Lydia asks. ‘I mean, it’s quite long, right?’
Luc’s eyes widen, his pupils taking over his irises.
‘I’m just wondering whether you’ve figured out a plan for the long distance, or whether there will be points Luc will join you?’ Lydia asks.
I turn to him and narrow my eyes, my heart in my throat.
‘We haven’t figured it out yet,’ Luc replies quickly. ‘I imagine we’ll play it by ear and when I can go to join Sie, I will.’ He puts his hand over mine, a subtle squeezing telling me I will explain everything later. ‘Do you want another drink?’ he asks.
I nod silently, mouth agape. He disappears into the stadium.
‘So, how have things been with you both this time, Sienna?’ his mum asks.
‘Good,’ I smile through my teeth, still perplexed by the questions about how we’ll play the tour. Do they… not know?
His mum exhales. ‘Thank goodness. He was really hurt last time, not that he’d admit that to anyone.’
‘Mum,’ Lydia groans.
‘What? You know our Luc. He’s so sensitive. It’s the writer part of his brain, I reckon,’ she says.
‘Leave it,’ his dad grumbles.
‘I just don’t him to get hurt again,’ Luc’s mum protests.
‘You know we love you, Sienna. We always have. But Luc is my baby, and you live such different lives. And I don’t want you to walk out on him again and leave him wondering what he did wrong.
’ She shakes her head. ‘Luc is too nice for his own good. He’s not very vocal with how he feels as long as everyone else is happy. ’
Luc returns and drapes his arm over my shoulder, handing me a bottle of 7Up with the cap taken off. The sweet, sugary liquid fizzes in my mouth to distract me from the shattering in my chest.
I can’t focus on the football. I’m distracted, unable to stop thinking of Lydia’s question, Luc’s mum’s protectiveness. And I’m overly aware of Luc’s presence next to me, of how the next time his whole family comes to a game like this, I won’t be around.
Kareem picks Luc, Dennis and I up from a designated area outside the stadium. Dennis jumps in the front of the car, leaving Luc and I to climb in behind. Luc reaches over the seat and holds my hand, running his thumb over the soft skin.
It’s still daylight outside but the back of the car is dark, protected by those blackout windows. Luc’s deep, dark brown eyes are looking at me carefully. I gaze at him, trying to read his thoughts, trying to communicate my own without having to say them out loud.
‘So, you might have noticed the tour question…’
Shit. I didn’t expect that to actually work.
‘Don’t they know…’ I trail off, the words balling up on my tongue, ‘that we’re breaking up at the beginning of the tour?’
‘The short answer… no.’
‘Luc,’ I groan, shaking my head, face in my hands. ‘We agreed,’ I mumble against my palms.
‘I was supposed to tell them, but they were just so excited after everything that happened with Rose. And then one date turned into more and now I don’t know how to go back.’
I glare at him, giving him everything in me. ‘You know what’s going to break their hearts more?’
He looks away.
‘Getting to know me again and seeing you “happy” and then you telling them you lied and that we were never actually together,’ I explain.
‘I just won’t tell them.’
‘That feels like it has bad karma attached to it.’
‘I don’t believe in karma.’
‘How can you not believe in karma? That’s really weird.’
‘You’re weird.’
I faux gasp. ‘Hold the front page.’
Dennis’s eyes flicker up to the internal mirror in the front of the car. I catch them and shake my head subtly, looking down as I do it so that Luc can put it down to a twitch. He doesn’t need to know my secret language with Dennis just yet.
‘I know what I’m doing,’ Luc says. He runs his hands through his hair and pulls at his roots. ‘You don’t think I have my own reasons for agreeing to Mimi’s plan?’
‘Yeah, to show Rose you’ve moved on and good press for your writing, right?’
‘There’s more but… can I tell you later?’ He gestures towards my team in the front. ‘It’s not really something I want to discuss in public.’
I look at Kareem and Dennis, knowing they are two of my most trusted people.
That I wouldn’t let anyone who is a threat to my privacy close to me, let alone that close to me that often.
But, in the same breath, I also understand that I wouldn’t be able to trust Luc’s most trusted people. I nod. ‘Noted.’
London’s cacophony drowns out our silence – blaring horns, a siren blasting from an ambulance, a police car, a fire engine.
A man on a push bike screams obscenities into the dense night air after an electric bike cuts him up.
Someone on a stolen Lime bike pedals against the hill, the incessant beeping telling the world they haven’t paid to ride.
We drive past a bar and the bass from the music spills out into the street, pounding against my skull.
‘Your mum hates me,’ I whisper.
‘She does not!’
‘She thinks I’m going to break your heart again. She thinks you won’t tell me how you feel because you care too much about me being happy.’
His shoulders droop. ‘I’m fine, Sienna. I would tell you if I wasn’t.’
My feet throb. My head is pounding. The air is heavy – the heat from the day will remain long after the sun has set.
London’s humidity is stifling. My sweat acts like a glue, sticking my body to the leather seats.
I lean my head against the headrest, my baby hairs pasted onto my skin.
I let my head drop to the side, looking at Luc carefully while he gazes out of the car window.
I take the opportunity to stare, to watch a singular drop of sweat run down the back of his neck, trace the curl patterns in his hair.
When he catches me looking, he mirrors my stance. ‘Hey,’ he whispers. His breath licks my cheek, close but still far away. ‘I’m shattered.’
I swallow. ‘You and me both.’
Kareem drops us off and I hobble up the steps, my legs aching from the tension and length of the day. The gasping dryness in the back of my throat pulls me towards the kitchen. Luc follows me inside and throws himself on the sofa.
‘Wine?’ I offer.
‘Sure,’ he agrees. I grab a pottle of pinot gris rosé from the wine fridge. I take two glasses and the bottle in my wine bucket gadget with cooling blocks from the freezer through to the living room. I put both glasses on a coaster and pour us a medium measure.
Luc smells the rosé suspiciously before taking a small sip. ‘Oh my god, that’s delicious.’
‘Right?’ I agree. ‘It’s always pinot grigio this, pinot grigio that but actually I think pinot gris is better.’ I take a sip. ‘I find it richer and less acidic.’
‘When did you become a sommelier?’ Luc takes another sip. ‘I think I agree with you there but will make a firm judgement after we’ve finished the bottle.’
We sip our wine quietly.
‘This might be a good Instagram opportunity,’ Luc reminds me.
I sigh and pull my phone from my pocket, taking a picture of the wine and two glasses on the table, the ambient lighting of the warm lamps in all corners of the room making it feel more romantic than it is.
I caption it ‘celebrating’ with a white heart emoji and tag Luc before uploading it to my story and putting my phone away.
My 150 million Instagram followers can analyse that.
The papers can write it up, add a picture of me and Luc taken while in Wembley with his family.
I hope Luc warned them those pictures would happen.
Luc grabs his own phone and reposts it for his newly found Instagram followers on his story.
He’s gone from five thousand to nearly half a million since our second first date.
I know it makes him feel funny… so many people watching his every move.
I’ve noticed that he cleared out most of his old posts. I don’t blame him. It’s overwhelming.
‘How’s everything going with your voice?’ Luc asks. ‘I didn’t want to ask you in front of anyone else.’
‘Fine, I think. It’s feeling a bit better already. I’m not allowed to sing until the tour starts and they’ve taught me some new techniques to help,’ I sigh. ‘I have to hope for the best.’
‘I hope that it does work out okay in the end,’ Luc whispers.
‘If I don’t fully recover and have to go on tour anyway and then end up wrecking my vocal cords and leaving myself without a career… I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get to have that normal life I was craving so much a few months ago.’
‘But you want both?’
I laugh. ‘Why is it that we always want what we can’t have?’