RARE (THEROCKAFELLABOYSSERIES#1)

The British Press

Luke Holland

Zoey may not get hangovers, but she does snore like a champion. At one point, I think she even woke herself up. It's probably the alcohol, or the fact she slept on her stomach most of the night.

I'm spooning the hell out of her now, though, rubbing my nose deep into her sweet-smelling hair. "You okay there?"

She's shuffling around a bit. "No. I don't feel so good."

My hand moves to rub her belly. "Do you feel sick?"

"Yes. And I have a headache," she whispers.

I kiss the back of her head. "Sounds like a hangover."

She pushes my hand off her and yanks the duvet off her body to jump out of bed, taking two steps before hitting the ground.

"Zoey!"

I'm running around the bed to find her cupping her head. "I got out too quickly. And now the room is spinning worse than before." 

I swallow back the awful memories that assault me and suck it up for her. A hangover for me would be triggering. I guess you could call it a blackout instead because I never remembered what I had done the previous day.

"Do you still feel sick?" I ask, lifting her up when she says yes. I settle her near the toilet and pull her hair away from her face. "It's best just to get it all out of your system now."

She shakes her head. "I would rather hold it."

"You won't have much choice," I say when she lets out her first gag. Then it's just a stream.

"Oh, god, Luke. Please go away," she says, out of breath between rounds.

My phone blares out in the next room. It goes on until it rings off before starting up again. Zoey shoves me this time and I listen, needing to know who's calling me this dramatically.

It's Erica. Why is she calling so early? I have strict rules about my phone hours. When Zoey heaves again, I answer the phone abruptly. Is she all right in there?

"Luke, something bad has happened. But, don't panic."

Alarm bells sound in my ears. "What's going on?"

"There's pictures of Zoey in the press. Intimate pictures."

Forget alarm bells. It's a fucking fog horn blaring. I nearly drop my phone in anger, wondering how the hell they got pictures of her.

"What the fuck?!"

Erica is calm. I'm ready to murder somebody. "They took the pictures from outside her house. Unclothed ones. It looks like she's putting lotion on in one of them. Thankfully she's in her underwear."

"And the press released these?" I shout, barely able to control myself.

"Yes. The Hot News Corp. The pictures are all over the internet, Luke," she says.

I'm fighting with myself not to throw something. Zoey can't know about this... not yet. I need to get on the phone to the right people and make it go away.

The toilet flushes, then the tap comes on and a buzzing from Zoey's electric toothbrush. Erica is doing damage control. I am fighting my way into my clothes.

"I'm going to Hot News HQ. Those bastards are going to get it," I spit, throwing the phone on the bed to pull on my trousers.

Erica is shouting about something when I pick the phone back up. "Luke? Luke! You leave this to me. Don't you dare do something stupid."