Something More | Randy

chapter three | hangover

I burst out of the crowded nightclub into the alley outside, my eyes burning with angry tears. 

"Andy?" I heard a familiar voice before I could start to grapple with whatever drunk emotions were swirling in my brain. I looked to the voice.

"Brook? What you doing out here?" 

Brook scuffed his shoe on the ground, not meeting my eye. "I just wasn't feeling it anymore," he replied, "Jack got really wasted."

"Is he alright?" I asked, genuinely concerned if the state of that little Irish disaster had declined since I last saw him.

"Yeah he's absolutely fine. Mikey's got him," Brook answered, something melancholy lingering beneath his light tone. I didn't press him, not wanting to have to reveal my own confusing sadness. Brook asked me anyway. "What are you doing out here, And?"

"Needed some air," I brushed off, casually as I could muster. "You want to grab a kebab?"

"Yeah!" he answered appreciatively, his eyes actually lighting up. Ah, Brook, so easily appeased. I really did envy him. I couldn't help but crack a genuine smile.

"Let's go then."

***

By the time we'd made the journey to the kebab vendor, my sobriety had somewhat returned and with it came a logical conclusion as to why I was angry with Rye. I unloaded these reasons onto Brooklyn, which he processed slowly over the final bites of his doner. 

"Are you sure he knew she was with ya? And he just hooked up with her right in front of you?" Brook checked, confusion evident on his face.

"Literally, this close to me," I steamed, holding a hand in front of my face to demonstrate the distance.

"Did he really know you liked her? Doesn't seem like something Rye would do to you." Something about the 'to you' specifically, stung me. 

"He knew," I grumbled, but the direction of the conversation was beginning to make me uncomfortable again. I dismissed the issue. "He was pretty fucked up I guess. It was just a dick move."

Brook hummed in response, not sounding totally convinced, but then he always did tend to put Rye on a pedestal. We caught an uber home, not speaking anymore about Rye.  

***

Back at the house the next day, Brook was in one of his sulky moods, which we'd all learned to ignore by this stage. He made it clear by his body language that, were we not gathered to film a video, he would definitely be locked in his room, not communicating with anyone. 

Despite the tension Brook was trying to create, the vibe with the rest of us was relatively chill, all of us dusty still from our big night. Jack had it worst. Sunglasses on, he was still nursing an ongoing hangover at four in the afternoon, looking pretty worse for wear as he lay on the couch with his head on Mikey's lap. 

I'd crashed out pretty much the second I hit my bed the night before, waking only briefly to the sound of Jack vomiting in the loo at around four AM. I hadn't heard Rye come home at all, but he was here now, scrolling idly on his phone while Alex set up the camera. The events of the previous night were already losing significance in my mind, having dismissed my drunk emotional breakdown and chosen to mentally forgive Ryan for 'stealing my girl'. 

"All good to go, boys," Alex announced, and we launched into the video. It was just a sit down Q and A thankfully, about the only kind of video we could muster any energy for in our current state. Rye sat next to me for the video- very intentionally, as he squeezed himself into a pretty tight gap between me and Mikey to do so. As he leaned comfortably against my side, joking with me, brown eyes giving me his undivided attention whenever I spoke, the image of him locked in an embrace with a girl in a nightclub was all but gone from my memory. 

The bliss didn't last long. Towards the end of the video we decided I would get my guitar and play a sneak preview of one of our EP tracks.

"It's in my room still," Rye admitted sheepishly- he'd been practising a lot lately, bless him.

"I'll grab it," I offered, jumping up from the couch, disentangling myself a little from Rye on the way up. 

My affectionate mood died the second I stepped into his bedroom. The guitar was there, yes, but so was something else, and it made my stomach drop. I felt a rush of embarrassment and anger at myself for being so stupid.

 A black lacy bra lay shamelessly on the end of his unmade bed. He had fucking taken her home.

In an instant, my memory unfogged and I was back in that club, watching them make out all over again. Imagination took over from memory as this time I didn't turn and leave, but instead rose above my body to hover above them like a jealous ghost, watching their dirty passion intensify, neither one of them sparing a glance for Andy as he bolted away. I followed them into an uber, picturing his hand sliding up her skirt, already teasing her for what was to come. I watched them arrive at the house, a fit of giggles and sloppy kisses, sneaking through the halls careful not to wake sleeping Andy in his bed. My rage swelled as I pictured them get to the door of this very room, him pushing her to the bed, throwing clothes off with such urgency that they couldn't keep track of where things landed, and them him just taking her. Fucking her hard as she moaned into his pillows. 

Fuck him. 

When I returned with the guitar, Rye motioned with grabby hands for me to return to my seat beside him, but I ignored him, settling down the other side of the couch next to Brook, now sharing in his dour mood. We finished the video without me throwing so much as a glance in his direction, and the second we called cut, I was gone. 

*** 

I found myself venting later to Mikey, my uncontainable thoughts bubbling to the surface of our conversation during Fifa. 

"Then midway through our conversation he literally just drags her out to the dance floor and starts grinding on her, even after he'd seen us talking for the past half and hour. I'd been taking it slow, clearly working up to something, and he just blatantly put the moves on her right in front of me until she went home with him. I bet he doesn't even know she's an actress, the dickhead." At some point during my tale, Kylie had ascended from a girl I thought was hot to potential mother of my children. Mikey seemed taken aback by the sudden fervour of my rant.    

"Maybe you should talk to him, And. I'm sure he wouldn't have done it if he'd known how you felt. "

"He bloody knew!" I insisted, not at all willing to take a mature approach. 

Mikey sighed. "Just don't put me in the middle if you have a falling out-" 

"Some loyal friend you are, mate-" I countered unreasonably.

"I don't know why you're being like this, mate. I'm not your pawn, sir."

I rolled my eyes. 

Mikey paused the game we were already neglecting. "You should talk to him tonight. Jack and I will be out at the cinema in a bit, Brook's still in his room, Alex and Robbie are editing. Have some alone time."

I just stared stubbornly at the little frozen Fifa men on the screen. A few moments of silence passed, Mikey looking expectantly at me for a response.

"So will this be your first date with Jack?" I smarted.

"Right. Night Andy." Mikey ended the conversation, disappointment clear in his tone. I didn't break my gaze from the frozen football players as he left the room. 

***

An hour or so later, I was in the same spot, aggressively punching buttons on the controller. I didn't realise I was no longer alone until I heard his voice.

"Can we talk, Fovvs?"