I Knew You Were Trouble

Chapter Sixteen

I wake to a hammering on my door.

‘You gotta get up, we gotta go now,’ Meredith blurts. ‘There’s a car waiting for us downstairs.’

‘What’s going on?’ I squint, realising I’ve got a wine headache. I stayed an hour longer, Aidan positioning himself elsewhere and not looking me in the eye after our little incident. ‘What time is it?’

‘Just gone seven. The boys are squeezing in a stopover before their day of interviews. The girl – you know the one from yesterday, who fainted in Bronte? They’re going to visit her at her house. Ziggy says we can go along and film. He’s set up a photographer from a news network who’s gonna be there too.’

Adrenaline pulses through my body. ‘When are they leaving?’

‘Literally in ten minutes. You don’t even have time to shower.’

‘Go and knock on Duncan’s door. I’ll get dressed.’

In the back of the car, a dishevelled-looking, unshaven Duncan traces three letters into my bent knee through my jeans with his fingertip: H, B and D.

I look down and smile, glancing out of the window as I blush.

‘Aye, you thought I’d forgotten, didn’t you?’ he grins.

‘What did you not forget?’ Meredith asks from the front seat.

He looks to me, as though asking permission to tell, and I roll my eyes in response.

‘Today is Lexi’s least favourite day of the year,’ Duncan says. ‘It’s her birthday.’

In the front seat, Meredith squeals. ‘It’s your birthday today? How old?’

‘Thirty,’ I confirm. ‘Yesterday was officially the last day of my twenties.’

‘Oh my god, happy birthday,’ Meredith squeals. ‘We gotta celebrate!’

‘Oh no, you can’t tell anyone,’ Duncan laughs. ‘She doesn’t like fuss.’

‘Why not?’ Meredith queries.

Duncan looks at me with a raised brow.

‘Change the subject,’ I grunt, feeling grimy from the lack of a shower as well as groggy from lack of caffeine. ‘The girl from yesterday, remind me of her name.’

‘Jessie Fletcher,’ Meredith says in disappointment as her excitement evaporates. ‘She’s sixteen. Lives with her parents and younger brother in Bondi. Went to the concert with a group of friends. They stayed up all night to be first in line. Doctors at the hospital said she was dehydrated and that’s likely why she passed out.’

‘Will the friends be at the house?’

‘I think so, but the family’s been asked to keep the visit under wraps, so there isn’t a waiting crowd outside on the street.’

‘How long will the boys be there?’

‘Ziggy says about thirty to forty minutes. They’ll take some photos, sign some autographs, et cetera.’

‘Who’s her favourite band member?’

‘Cal, I think, but I imagine it’s now Aidan.’

I lean forward, looking through the windscreen at the cars in front, speeding through Sydney’s suburbs, back towards the neighbourhood of Bondi.

‘Don’t worry, we’re right on their tail,’ Meredith reassures me.

‘Have everything running from the get-go,’ I say, switching on my hand-held camera, giving Duncan a nudge. ‘I want them arriving at the door.’

Duncan follows my lead. ‘Roger that,’ he mutters.

‘It’s a good look on you, Duncan,’ Meredith says up front.

‘What is?’

Meredith rubs her chin before returning her eyes to the road ahead. ‘The shadow.’

I shoot Duncan a knowing smile.

He blushes. ‘Cheers,’he mutters.

The first thing I see when I step out of the car on the residential street is Aidan clutching a sizeable bouquet of pink and red roses. He’s wearing high-tops, loose-fitting combat trousers, a sexy, fitted white T-shirt and sunglasses. Last night, lying in bed, the wine in my system, all I could think about was his arousal pressing into me, until I couldn’t take it anymore, the dull ache between my legs once again needing to be dealt with. Maybe he would have reacted that way to any girl sitting in his lap. Yet I want to know if it happened because it was me.

Rebel Heart’s arrival in this residential community is purposefully low-key. It’s still early and no crowds have gathered. There’s a man on the street affixing a surfboard to the roof of his car. Even at this hour, the sun blazes down from a clear sky. Duncan races up ahead of the boys and I’m relieved when they don’t even flinch at his presence, talking amongst themselves. Bodhi and members of his team hover as Ziggy ushers the five of them across the road towards a modest beige house with solar panels on the roof, a small white hybrid Toyota parked in the driveway. I film them from behind, even keeping Duncan in shot.

A woman answers the door, who I presume to be Jessie Fletcher’s mother. I hang back with Meredith, the boys all ease and friendliness as they enter the property. I glimpse a photographer already inside. By the time I enter, Jessie Fletcher is beaming from ear to ear, holding onto her flowers, surrounded by the band, and they are being photographed. She wears braces, baggy jeans and a crop-top, her hair loose about her shoulders. Aidan is talking animatedly about what he’d seen from the stage, Jessie’s friends all gathered behind her, their faces a cross between shyness and disbelief at what is taking place. It’s a sweet scene, the boys all laughing and joking and charming her mother and father, the younger teenage son looking on in disgust from the sofa, his arms crossed over his chest. Mrs Fletcher is so moved she starts crying, Aidan putting his arms around her shoulders. When Cal presents Jessie with five backstage passes for the concert that night, the girls all squeal in delight.

When the photographer requests pictures in the back garden, the boys dutifully file outside. I make eyes with Duncan to follow, to keep filming, and Meredith goes too. I remain behind with Ziggy.

‘This was a really nice thing to do,’ I say.

‘Screws with my schedule though, don’t it?’ Ziggy says in a whispered hiss. ‘They’ve got interviews all day and they’re all bloody knackered. Last thing we needed was to drive out to bloody Bondi before tonight’s show. Aidan blimmin’ insisted.’

‘I’m sure the family will appreciate the gesture,’ I say, warmth spreading through me at the news that this was Aidan’s specific wish. ‘Plus, it’s all good press for them, right?’

Ziggy’s already looking at his watch. ‘Ten more minutes and we’re out of here.’

‘Thanks for giving Meredith a heads-up.’

‘Yeah, well, I thought you were the one who was gonna bring me trouble with Aidan. Doesn’t seem to be the case; you two have made your peace. Now he’s got that Haven girl clinging to him instead.’

‘Right.’ I swallow, because I can only manage a single word over the invisible set of fists that are, at this moment, pummelling my ribcage and making my jealous heart ache.

Ziggy goes outside. I’m waiting in the living room with a grumpy teenaged boy when Aidan comes back inside.

I’m surprised to see him. ‘Hey,’ he says in a low tone, removing his sunglasses and hooking them over the neckline of his T-shirt. ‘Have you got a minute?’

‘Sure,’ I say and he looks around, ushering us both into the adjacent kitchen.

When we’re alone, Aidan rubs the back of his neck. ‘I, uh, wanted to explain… about last night. In case you got the wrong idea.’

I straighten, the base of my neck growing warmer. I never expected him to actually address what happened. ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘No, it’s fine. I didn’t get the wrong idea at all. Of course. Taylor was sat there right with you and she’s gorgeous, so I can understand how… something like that might happen to a man in your situation.’

I only realise when I’ve finished speaking that he’s gazing down at me, a small smile on his face.

‘See, that’s exactly what I thought you might think. But…’ He exhales slowly, looking me over. ‘You in those jeans…’

I stare at him. Words fail me.

I look down. He’s brushing his fingers against mine, sending little electrical pulses into my veins. ‘I wanted you to know that I took Taylor back to her room. Nothing happened between us. I wanted to come and find you, but—’

I light up from the inside. Yet I’m still shocked into silence. The professional side of me says that would have been a really bad idea. He’s still five years my junior. And yet I wish he had come and knocked on my door.

‘Look,’ he says. ‘By way of an apology, if I made you uncomfortable at all, I’m happy if you want to interview me next. When we get to Malaysia.’

I bite back a smile. So does he.

‘Thank you, I’d like that,’ I murmur. There is a lapse of slightly awkward silence. I feel the need to fill it quickly, so he doesn’t ponder on his apology any longer. ‘It’s my birthday today,’ I blurt out.

His eyes flash, his lips broadening into a grin. ‘It is?’

A door clatters and we can hear the others re-entering the house. Aidan takes a quick step back.

I look to the parquet flooring and nod. ‘It’s my thirtieth.’

‘Happy birthday,’ he whispers.

‘Thank you, but I hate birthdays.’

‘Why?’

‘Mate, we’re hitting the road,’ Cal announces, interrupting us and sticking his head into the kitchen. ‘Go say g’bye.’

My ears are still ringing after the concert that night when I make it back to the hotel with Duncan and Meredith, the screaming I experienced only confirming that the level of adoration given to this group of young men is, in my eyes, nothing short of worship.

Watching him perform tonight, I realise that whichever girl Aidan ends up with will have to share him with the fandom. Whoever she is will have to be strong enough to cope with that pressure.

I don’t have his phone number. I don’t expect to hear from him.

It seems ridiculous to me to go down this road. This is a man who tricked me in Japan, who made it more than clear that he didn’t want me on the tour. So why do I feel this way?

Something’s changed. His initial hostility has disappeared. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have trusted him. And yet… You in those jeans , he’d said, and the memory of his words gives me shivers.

When I’m alone in my room, there’s a knock at my door. I open it and Bodhi is stood there holding an enormous bouquet of yellow roses.

‘For you, Lexi,’ he says, handing them over.

I bring them inside, thanking him and wishing him a goodnight. A pulse thrums through me, the memory of Aidan holding a similar bouquet this morning. I smile as I check the note. It reads, To Lexi, Wishing you the Happiest of Birthdays, from Aidan x . Also on it, handwritten, is what I presume to be his phone number.

My phone vibrates. I don’t know if Aidan has my number yet, but a part of me hopes that he’s at least tried to get it.

I unlock the screen and my heart sinks.

The message isn’t from Aidan at all. It’s from my father. Happy Birthday, Pumpkin , it reads.

A knot rises in my throat. I leave the phone on my desk. My father has a habit of ruining the better moments in my life.

I don’t plan on sending him a reply.