Espresso

Chapter Seven

Jet

I shift uncomfortably in the passenger seat of Eric's VW Golf as we drive well past the speed limit down the motorway, my stomach cartwheeling along with the car the closer to the capital that we get. I look over at Eric in the driver's seat and sigh. 

He turned up on my doorstep yesterday with a wilted bouquet of marked down supermarket flowers and a half arsed apology that Marie had clearly put him up to. He lectured me on why I was in the wrong and informed me that he'd be joining me for the first few nights of the European tour, to ensure I was on my best behaviour. It'll be a tight squeeze on my bunk but I'm glad to be putting last week behind us and looking forward to our future together. I'm nervous about having him so close for such a long period of time, but I'm hopeful that having an audience means he'll keep his hands off me.

He's even suggested we look for a place together for us to move into when I get back. Nothing too swish or too big, but the money I'll be making and have already made will be enough for a deposit and a few months rent on somewhere decent until Eric finishes his Engineering degree. 

The drive down to London consists of us listening to one of Eric's geeky podcasts and loose conversations about what he's studying but I can't concentrate as we edge further towards London. My mind is elsewhere as I stare out of the window at the landscape either side of the M40, wondering if things will be different to how they were before the break. 

And I don't just mean between us. 

My mind wanders to the curly haired lothario that I spent the last leg of the tour despising. We argued in every city of the UK, spinning a web of tension across the entire country, over everything from hickies and skinny jeans to messy dressing rooms and the way he brushes his fucking teeth. And yet, he dried my tears twice within so many days and walked me home under the protection of his umbrella to shield me from the rain. 

My thumb hovers over our message thread as I think about him and I' startled when a new message pops up at the bottom of the screen. 

Hey, are you going to the party tonight? - H x 

My head spins as I stare at the screen. Did he really just send that? 

I'm apprehensive about seeing him, seeing what he'll be like around me and whether we'll still be screaming at each other in the corridors and tearing strips off each other whilst he sits in Lou's chair. I don't know which I'd prefer. 

My thumb lingers over the key pad, typing and retyping a response but I never hit send. Would I just make things weird? It's not like we're friends. 

My wandering thoughts are interrupted by Eric's voice as he asks me a question about the party. I respond with a shrug and continue to look out of the window, noticing that we've hit London traffic and are roughly ten minutes away from our hotel for the evening. Although Eric's VW Golf is comfortable, I'm relieved to be almost there. The air is stuffy, my legs numb and I'm bored of listening to whatever shit Eric has playing through the speakers. 

I unlock my phone and swipe through Twitter, tantalising excitement evident on my timeline that tour is about the start back up again. I upgraded my phone over the break, moving away from my beloved Blackberry and finally investing in an iPhone, which makes browsing through socials a hell of a lot easier. I flick onto the team Whatsapp group, noticing several messages about pre drinks and food for the party before it kicks off at 7. It's just gone 5 meaning it's a quick turnaround before we meet the crew for a bite to eat beforehand. 

"We okay to meet the guys at Gordon Ramsey's restaurant for 6?"

"Do we have to?"

"Well, they're kind of expecting us. It'll be good to see a few people before we get thrown in at the deep end at the party."