I walked into Paul's flat, shutting the door behind me. I didn't necessarily hate going to Paul's place, but I didn't necessarily love it either. His place was nice, too nice. Everything was perfectly in place, with not a picture frame even slightly askew. It was all picture-perfect and pristine on the surface, but a little cold, a little impersonal. There weren't any family photos, any very personal touches, not even knick-knacks from places we had been to on tour. It was flawless, but at the same time distant and cold.
Just like Paul, in a way.
"Did you want something for lunch?" Paul asked, setting his keys in the little dish on the table by the door and walking into the kitchen.
"Depends what you've got," I said, following after him.
I leaned against the counter, watching as he pulled open the fridge and began to rummage through it. There was a bit of sweat dampening his shirt from the walk up to his building, fabric clinging to his back. He let out a sigh, straightening up and turning to look at me.
"I don't know. Help yourself to anything you'd like," he said, gesturing to the open fridge.
I walked over, taking his place in front of the fridge, grateful for the cold air emanating from it at the very least. To no surprise, it was nearly empty.
"You know, you're not a rabbit," I said, looking at the vegetables that were the only thing there was a significant amount of in the refrigerator.
"Look, I'm the sex icon of the band. I have to look sexy, I have to keep my figure. You just have to have sex to fill the stereotype the public has of you," he said dryly, and I chuckled, grabbing an apple.
"Sure, but still. You gotta eat more than just lettuce," I said.
"Yeah, maybe. Want a sandwich?" he asked, and I took a bite of the apple.
"Only if you have one," I countered, and he frowned, droopy brown eyes narrowing.
"Well I'm not hungry," he said, raising a painstakingly shaped eyebrow. He was just as vain as I was, just as full of himself, but it manifested in different ways for the both of us. He was content to spend hours primping and preening until he was satisfied he was as attractive as he could be, while I was content to spend hours listening to people tell me how wonderful I was.
"It's 3 in the afternoon and I know all you had for breakfast was coffee. Eat a sandwich," I said.
There was a pause as he looked at me while I walked over, sitting at the table and gesturing toward the breadbox on the counter. He rolled his eyes and I smiled, knowing I had won, satisfied that he'd at least be having one meal today.
We chatted as he made the two sandwiches before he set one in front of me and sat across from me with the other one.
"So really, how was the date?" he asked, taking a sip of water.
"It...it was really nice," I said, trying to figure out exactly how to explain to him how enchanting Beatrice was without making me seem like some stupid lovesick teenager. Not to mention I had no idea how Paul was feeling about the situation. For all I knew, he was still wanting to go on a date with her.
"That's good," he said, sitting back in his chair. "We didn't talk much when we first met but I can see why you two would get along."
"Yeah," I said, taking a bite of sandwich, using the time it took me to chew the bite to figure out how to best ask what message she had left for me without sounding too desperate. Eventually though I had ran out of time, swallowing the food. "So uh...you said she left a message?"
Paul cracked a smile, raising an eyebrow. "Damn, you've got it bad," he teased, and I rolled my eyes.
"She's a very attractive woman who didn't let me take her home on the first date. I've got...a score to settle," I said casually.
He leaned forward in his chair, eyes bright. "Sounds a lot like you're in love," he said, and I burst into laughter.
"Hardly! She's a hot chick and we had a nice dinner, sure, but I barely know her. Besides, I don't know if I want to settle down anyway. She might just be a one and done kind of situation," I said, and he nodded slowly.
"I can see that. You still want that message then?" he asked, and I shrugged.
"I mean if it's worth it," I said casually, and he rolled his eyes, clearly not buying it before rising to his feet and walking over to the telephone.
"I wrote it down for you, my answering machine was full," he said, and I bit back a sigh at the missed opportunity to hear her voice again. "She said she wants to meet up with you again next weekend."
"Where?" I asked, perking up, and a frown tugged at his lips as he squinted at the notepad.
"Sorry, it was late and dark when I wrote this," he said apologetically. "Central Park Zoo, Saturday at 7."
"Yeah, we did end dinner late. How come you were still up?" I asked, brow furrowing, and he shrugged, setting down the notepad.
"I just couldn't sleep last night, that's all. It's been too hot lately, and I swear the air conditioning in my bedroom is going out," he said.
"Did she leave her number?" I asked, and he shook his head.
"No. Told me not to give you hers yet. Apparently you have to earn it," he said, and I bit back a groan.
"And you won't just be nice and give it to me anyway?" I asked, but to my dismay he just gave me a smug grin.
"I'm not, no."
"Why not?" I asked, and he shrugged.
"As payback," he retorted, walking back over and resuming his seat.
"For what?!" I cried around a mouthful of sandwich, and he only shrugged again, brushing his hair over his shoulders.
"Oh, I'm sure there's plenty of things you've done to annoy me that this is payback for. It doesn't have to be anything specific," he said mildly, resting his chin on his hand, and I heaved a sigh.
"Yeah, yeah. If you hear from her again, tell her I'll be there," I said, and a small smile curved Paul's lips.
"I will."
