The Mighty Storm (Raura Revised)

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

My heart is buzzing around my chest at his thoughtfulness. I walk past him and make my way down the stairs.

Ross is the only guy I know who would pick me up in an Aston Martin DBS then bring me to Pizza Hut. And that's why I love him.

I mean, of course I don't love him – love him. I just used to love him when I was younger.

Anyway, the Covent Garden one is a little smarter than the usual Pizza Huts'. Especially the one we used to go to in Manchester, at least from the outside. For starters, it's underground and you have to take the stairs to reach it, but once you get inside it's just a regular Pizza Hut and I love it.

I'm greeted at the bottom of the stairs by a waiter. The instant he sees Ross, nerves and awe light his eyes up.

I feel sorry for him, as it must be a shock when the biggest rock star in the world turns up unannounced in your place of work. I mean Pizza Hut is not where you'd usually expect to see Ross Lynch.

It'd pretty hard not to be overawed but I think he does okay overall. He doesn't ask for Ross' autograph which is a good start, because I totally would have.

As I glance around, I see the restaurant is empty.

Surprising, but lucky as I'm pretty sure Ross would have got hassled non-stop for autographs in here. Hopefully, it will stay quiet while we're here.

The waiter shows us over to a booth table. I slide into my seat, Jake sits opposite me.

His legs are long under the table. I bump his leg with my foot.

"Sorry."

He smiles at me.

It squirms its way through me. I feel like I'm a teenager all over again.

"Can I get you some drinks?" the waiter asks handing us our menus.

Ross looks at me.

"Beer," I say.

"Two buds," Jake orders.

The waiter disappears to get our drinks while I stare at Ross, surprised.

"What?" he asks, seeing my staring.

"Um ... nothing." My face flames.

"No, go on," he urges, leaning forward, he rests his arms on the table.

"Well, I just thought you didn't drink anymore – you know – rehab." I say the word quietly, like it's a really inappropriate word to be saying.

He lets out a laugh. "Drinking was never the problem, Laura."

"Oh."

He leans back in his seat. "That's the press for you. But still, everything in moderation for me nowadays. Except drugs – they're completely off the menu of course, but my cigarettes have increased."

"When did you start smoking?" I ask, wondering if it was after he got clean as a replacement for the drugs, as he never was interested in smoking when we were teenagers.

He scrunches up his face in thought. "When I started in the band."

A while then.

"Bad habit."

"It is," he agrees. "But not as bad as being an addict."

I instantly tense.

He smiles. "Relax, Laur. It's not the worst thing in the world I've ever said, and my drug counsellor says I'm supposed to be open about these things."