A few days later and already settled in New York as base for our next few gigs, the memory of that glorious morning in Miami still lingered, warming up my chest every time I thought of it. Despite I tried to seize another moment like that, our schedule would not permit it. We fortunately did not have many interviews, but we were quite tired and had been planning the shooting of our DVD in a few weeks time so, it all put our minds on business-mode most days. In spite of this, I searched opportunities for Chris and me to spend time together. Many of them we ended up playing music, which lifted our spirits, but also we had been out to lunch a few times and I had let him lean on me while we watched some movies back at the hotel. They were tiny moments, but meaningful. That was what was important. Quality better than quantity, right?
We had just flown back from Boston to Manhattan and had just arrived at our hotel, the whole travel taking less than two hours. Our way of commuting to and from work was quite peculiar, but those were the interesting perks of being in a band. I still thought it was all very surreal, but I loved it. I knew that when we went back to tour Europe, getting back to the UK every night would take longer and so I made the most of our sort of “early nights”. If 1:30 AM could be considered early.
“Argghhh, I can already tell I won’t be able to get any sleep tonight,” Chris complained, coming from the bathroom and plopping down beside me on the bed.
“Oh, love,” I sympathised with him, running a hand through his hair. “Have you got your sleeping pills? Maybe you could have one tonight if you feel you really need it,” I told him, trying to find a solution.
He sighed, “I hate taking them! I do catch up on some sleep but then I feel like a bloody zombie for hours!”
“I know.”
“And then I get fucking hyperactive, and it becomes a circle and I get crankier like those few weeks in 2006 and then those in 2008, remember? It’s not good man, just not good at all,” he ranted.
“I know, babe,” I said continuing with my caress. Getting a good night of sleep had always been one of Chris’ problems.
“I probably should have stayed in the other night instead of going to Jay-Z’s party. Then I would have been more rested and wouldn’t be feeling like shit now,” he complained.
“But you loved going, you told me you had a great time!” I reasoned. “It was worth it, then, wasn’t it?”
“I guess.”
I could tell he was still upset about not being in any way sleepy and that was the reason why he was being so negative.
“Do you know what could help you relax?” I asked with a tinge of naughtiness.
I don’t think he ever detected it, though. “What?” he said, eyebrows drawn together.
“Some good sexy time.”
“No, I’m not in the mood,” he said.
But I am, I sadly thought. Last time had been two weeks ago.
“Maybe I can convice you,” I told him slowly trailing my hand from his face all the way down to the elastic of his trousers. ” You won’t even have to move,” I said arching my eyebrows suggestively.
“No,” he persisted, “Besides, I smell like shit and I am sticky all over from the show,” he argued.
“So am I!” I laughed. God, he was being stubborn and negative. I hoped he would at least be able to get a few hours of sleep or things were really going to get intense tomorrow. “Mmm,” I pensively uttered, “what if you have an immersion bath? That could help.”
