Love/Fail

Chapter 15

Annoying Pinspiration Quote #15

"It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so very deeply."

Using the key Rupert had gifted me, I let myself into his little house. "Hello? Rupert, I'm here."

Tossing the keys on the side table, I kicked off my shoes and after a second of hesitation, shed my jeans and tee. With a wicked grin, I padded through the house looking for him, imagining his face when he saw me in only my underwear. I had an hour break from the café, which was quietest from two until three in the afternoons – between the lunch rush and the after-school crowd. I planned to use that time very well.

"Rupert?" The lounge room was empty, the kitchen unoccupied. I frowned. We'd spent the night before apart; I had washing to do, and I figured that he wouldn't want to watch me folding laundry and soaking stains. But we'd spoken about having a Wednesday afternoon catch up. So, where is he?

In the bedroom, I found him splayed across the bed face down. He was glorious, naked except for a sheet over his hips, his golden hair draped artfully around his head like a halo. Assuming he was napping and due for a wake up, I bounced on the bed gleefully. "Hello, lover boy!"

Although his body bounced up and down from the movement of the mattress, Rupert remained limp. "Rupert? Hey, come on, time to wake up." I shook him by the shoulder, figuring he was just playing possum. I braced myself for him to flip around grinning, to pounce on me and cover me with kisses.

But his shoulder moved bonelessly under my fingers and his beautiful face was slack. Tendrils of worry tingled in my fingers. "Rupert – hey! Wake up!"

I shook harder this time, but he remained unconscious. Oh god! Rolling him on his side, I checked for his breathing, fighting to stay calm. His chest was rising, but barely, his inhalation shallow.

What do I do? Nothing in my education had prepared me for dealing with a naked comatose rock star. Had he been drinking? Was it alcohol poisoning or illegal drugs? Looking frantically around the room, I couldn't see any hard liquor or white lines, just the little bottle of prescription pills that travelled everywhere with him.

I could call an ambulance – surely it wasn't normal to not be able to wake someone up? But my hand hovered over my phone as I considered the ramifications. Rupert had been existing quite happily in Melbourne because no one knew he was still in town; as long as he kept his hair under a beanie, he was just another hipster. If he went to hospital, it would get out pretty damn quick and his mini-break away from his world of fame would be over. Plus, I couldn't imagine how it would affect his reputation. The media would pounce on the story, speculating about his drug habits or alcohol issues and although we didn't talk much about Rupert's notoriety, I knew no one would be psyched about a press safari about their lowest moment.

If he was awake, I could ask him what he wants me to do, I thought to myself redundantly. Something tripped into my head; an old memory from health class. Mrs Saunders was a batty but lovely teacher who'd doled out incredibly random health tips, all of which I'd long forgotten. But one of her comments resurfaced: "You don't need smelling salts to revive someone from a faint or a stupor – just bite their ear, hard." She swore by it, although I'd never had a chance to test it previously.

That was about to change. I made my decision; I'd bite Rupert's ear. If he didn't wake up, I'd call for the ambulance.

Kneeling over his head, I lowered my mouth to the pink shell of his ear. "Rupert!" I yelled into his ear one more time, praying that he might still awaken on his own, but no luck. Using my teeth, I latched on to his lobe and followed Mrs Saunders advice, clamping down hard.