Dangerous [Bradley Simpson] Sequel to On the Floor (novella)

Chapter Eleven - Time

I awoke the next morning in Connor's bed, as promised, while he camped out on the couch. It was odd, to say the least, and slightly gut-wrenching to not see the ceiling of James' guest room that I had made my own. I missed him and his home. But Connor's place was quiet, and James' was waged with war. But I couldn't help but feel like a piece of my life was missing. He was, after all, my closest friend once upon a time. It hurt to think that he no longer was.

Connor's flat was not bathed in luxury quite like James', which I was content about. No, there were no marble countertops, or even a view of the Thames River or the London Eye. But it had the most comforting colors on the walls, and the coziest furniture with the softest blankets. It was quaint, and personal space was shy. But it was the most comfortable place I had stayed in years.

A knock on the bedroom door brought me out of my sleepy daze just as Connor peeked his head in.

"Did I wake you?" He asked quietly.

"No, come in," I smiled.

He opened the door wider and stepped in, walking straight to his dresser. "Sorry, just need to get a change of clothes."

"You know I can always sleep on the couch so you can have your room back," I said.

He shook his head. "No, I promised you that bed."

"You didn't have to though," I chuckled.

He shrugged it off. "Its fine, I fall asleep on the couch the majority of the time anyway. I think I've slept more on it than my bed."

"Well, it's too early to argue," I sighed, stretching my arms above my head.

"Agreed," he chuckled, then changed the subject. "Tristan said James' PI might have something interesting."

"Well," I scoffed. "I'll pass."

"Charlotte," he mumbled, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Adelaide," I said.

"Whatever," he shrugged. "I know this is hard for you. Not just James hiring a private investigator, but the whole thing in general. Trying to find the woman who ruined your life has got to take its toll, and I'm sorry you have to go through that."

"What are you trying to get at?" I sighed.

"We're stuck." He said rather bluntly. "We have nowhere else to turn. We have no fucking clue what we're doing. I want to find her as much as you do. I want you back, Charlotte."

I could feel tears forming at the brim of my eyes. I blinked them away furiously before opening my mouth to speak.

"I want her back too," I whispered.

"James can help us." Connor said in a hushed tone. "He can, and a private investigator isn't really a cop. If anything, they're like Sherlock Holmes. I know you love the TV show."

I let a small grin escape my lips.

"Let's just hear what they have to say," he suggested. "Then we can go from there."

I looked up at him as he stood up. "You sure do have a way with words, Connor."

He smirked, "I just know what to say to you."