Living the Dream

Nine | Riley

It was getting late and the more time I spent in the office the more exhausted and unwell I felt. It must have been almost midnight but I had put myself on lockdown mode. I couldn't have any interferences.

I had turned my phone off and locked the door while I had my laptop and all files and folders set out on the desk. I wasn't leaving here until I was fully prepared.

The feedback I had received earlier today wasn't anywhere near as good as I had been hoping and I can't afford to have this dream end once again.

But at the same time, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about the pictures James had scattered over the bed. I don't know what made him think it was a good idea to snoop through all of my things but that was the thing about James. He couldn't have cared less even if he wanted to. He does things without thinking sometimes, but I suppose he's not all to blame.

I've had about three of those pictures up by my windowsill for a long time, including one from when we won internationals because of our duet. It meant too much to me for me to hide it all away.

I sigh as I checked through my e-mails only to come across one from Em who was checking on how I was doing. She had tried getting through to me on the phone but I never got back to her.

With the thought of Dad's wedding in mind, I wasn't sure how to approach it. I hadn't spoken to my sister in a while and so to start now would be more than a little awkward, especially if she was to find out just how badly I was failing again even after attending business school.

I end up closing my laptop shut after having enough and I decide to take a breather. A couple of minutes wouldn't hurt, and it wasn't like Nate was here to keep an eye on me anyway.

It was late as it is but in New York, peaceful evenings never seemed to be a thing. It was just as busy as it was in the day, if not busier.

Lights lit up the roads and music played from every club bar I passed. There were taxis beeping at people, loud chatter filling the atmosphere. It was a lot more chaotic than being back home but I had adjusted to it in recent months.

This was my home now and I was used to it.

I walked along the brightly-lit street to get home. It wasn't too far from the studios, approximately a ten minute walk but I certainly wasn't expecting it when a black car pulled up alongside me suddenly, bringing me to a halt.

The window winds down and I turn my head only for my gaze to meet James's, which causes me to bite my lip and hesitate, unsure of how to approach him. I shouldn't have yelled at him, but at the same time he had no right to snoop through my things. He never even should have entered my room.

"Can we talk?" he asks gently, a sincere look filling the gaps on his face.

"You couldn't have waited for me to get back?" I mumble, crossing my arms over my chest but he simply shrugs, taking his hands off the steering wheel for a moment.

"I was hoping we could go somewhere else to talk alone. Plus Pipes basically forced me out and so I came to find you because the last thing I'd want is for you to burn yourself out at work."

I breathe in, taking a look around me. Part of me was telling me not to agree to this, but every other fibre of my being just wanted some time to figure things out.

"Half an hour," I mumble. "And if you're lucky, I'll make it an hour."

He grins when a small smile overtakes my lips and he stretches his arm out to open the other door. I walked around the front of the car before hopping in, setting my bags in the back. He was still wearing his stupid cap backwards again, much like a child, but I don't comment on it. I was still mad at him for snooping anyway. He's lucky I'm allowing him to drive me to places in his car.

"Where exactly are you planning on us going to?" I ask him, to which he hardly looks at me but instead keeps his gaze facing forwards.

"The spontaneity is all part of the ride, babe," he smirks, which only makes me roll my eyes, both of us knowing he was pushing it a little too far.

"You of all people should know not to call me that," I mutter. "Not when we aren't together."

He glances at me from out of the corner of his eye for a split second but it was still long enough for me to notice the glint in his iris.

"Not yet anyway," I just about hear him say under his breath, but when I go to question it, he cuts me off and switches topic.

"So what do you fancy? Shawarma or döner?"

"Isn't that just another word for shawarma in Turkish?" I bite back.

He grins. "Shawarma it is, babe," he repeats the nickname.

I roll my eyes at him but it this time when he makes a sharp left turn at the end of the road.

It doesn't surprise me that he already knew the route to the place after a few short weeks of being here. It must be the only one place he's thoroughly familiarised himself with.