Page 48 of Cocky Bastard

“I don’t need water,” Kanan said, sounding comically outraged at the suggestion. “I amfine.”

“Mmhmm, sure you are.”

“Yes! Am fine as a… as a…” He hummed, searching around for something to fill the gap. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him this drunk and I’d forgotten how adorable he was. “A strawberry!”

“A strawberry?”

“Yes, what’s wrong with strawberries? They’re nice. And round.” He giggled. “Heh, round.”

I chuckled. “Sure, sweetheart.” I patted his thigh and slipped my fingers into his, squeezing gently. Kane went quiet and when I looked back over at him, I could see him leaning against the window, his chest rising and falling softly and his eyes closed. I really hadn’t expected him to fall asleep so quickly, but maybe it was for the best. I didn’t want to have to pay the cabbie for Kane throwing up across the floor. Especially because that was boundto end up all over social media by tomorrow. I trusted London cabbies to be vaguely discreet, but there were always limits.

The taxi wound its way through the narrow back streets of the city, taking routes only known to the drivers while I watched out of the window with Kane’s hand still in mine. Today had been long and emotionally draining, and I was still processing all the pieces. When I’d woken up in York that morning, I hadn’t expected my day to involve filming, a frantic phone call from Kane, anger, a panicked dash to the station, a train ride that seemed to stretch on for fucking hours, meeting Henry Lu, love confessions, and getting drunk on margaritas while eating the best Mexican food I’d ever had.

I was still reeling from everything Kane had told me about the bullshit from theLlewelynexecutives, or whoever the fuck was behind this utter twattery, and while it was great that Henry had come to his defence and thrown what sounded like the most epic diva tantrum, I was still worried about the consequences. Henry seemed convinced that Kane was going to get the part back, but I wasn’t so sure.

I wanted to believe it would happen, but there was a nervous roiling in my stomach that told me it wasn’t as simple as Henry thought. And if Kanedidget the part back, would it even be worth it? Or would they make his life so fucking miserable that it would destroy him emotionally, spiritually, and maybe even physically. No job would be worth that, and I didn’t want to watch Kanan suffer for a role that might only last one season. I mean, if the executives were pissed enough, I highly doubted they’d get a renewal.

Maybe they’d give Kanan the part back and target Henry instead, hoping to punish him for getting in the way and daring to question them. There were so many executives who believed they were gods, sitting in their glass offices in LA behind their computers and moving everything and everyone around likepuppets on a string. And as famous and untouchable as Henry seemed right now, it wouldn’t always be that way. All it would take was the right phone call or two.

Or maybe I was just being paranoid and Kane would get the role back and everything would be fine. I needed to try some of that positive thinking bullshit.

I knew one thing for certain, though. Whatever happened, Kanan was going to have me by his side. Come hell or high water, I would be there.

“What the hell happened last night?” Kane asked with a groan as he staggered downstairs clutching his head, his hair askew and his face tinged green. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked like he was two seconds away from passing out or throwing his guts up all over the kitchen floor.

My poor kitten.

“We went out for dinner with Henry,” I said as I fished a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water. “There was a lot of tequila. And tacos.”

Kane let out a pitiful whine and staggered a few more steps across the kitchen towards me. He was still wearing his boxers from last night plus a T-shirt that looked suspiciously like an old one of mine I thought I’d lost. I pushed the glass of water into his hands. “Drink this. Slowly! I’ll make you some toast.”

“No,” Kane said. “Thanks, but even the thought of food is making me feel like shit.” He groaned and leant against the counter, tipping his head forward until his chin rested on his chest. “Fuck me, I’m too old for this.”

“Kitten, you’re not even twenty-eight.”

“Exactly, I’mlatetwenties. Not early.” He sighed and then groaned again, like sighing had physically hurt. “I think I need to lie down.”

I made a shooing motion with my hand. “Go and lie on the sofa. I’ll come through in a minute.”

“Okay.” He nodded and then squinted at me suspiciously. “How come you’re not dead?”

“Because unlike you, light of my life, I can actually hold my drink.”

“Liar,” Kanan muttered. “What about that time you drank half a bottle of Baileys at that Christmas party and then spent all night on my bathroom floor?”

“I had fucking food poisoning, remember? Half of us did from eating those dodgy prawns.”

“Oh, yeah.” A ghost of a smirk crossed his lips before his face thought better of it. “Good thing I didn’t eat them.”

“Yeah, yeah, I nearly died and you laughed at me.”

“I didn’t laugh! I—fuck, that’s too loud.”

“Go and lie down,” I said, pointing at the sitting room again. “I’m going to make myself more coffee.” In truth I was exhausted and had a splitting headache but I hoped that downing equal parts coffee, water, and orange and mango juice would put me back on a vaguely even keel. That and the thick slices of toast I’d had to line my stomach as soon as I’d come downstairs. I’d hardly slept last night because Kanan had been very fidgety and then I’d woken up at five with a dry mouth and a thumping head.

I’d ended up sitting in bed and checking my messages, finding one from Kai saying they’d put the house back together and a string from Theo telling me he hoped everything was okay, that he’d take all the footage home and edit it in the next week or two, that he hoped Kane and I were having lots of fun and that the sex was good. I’d smiled as I read them because of course Theo would wish for us to have plenty of good sex.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him we’d only managed some chaste kissing, mostly in Kane’s kitchen, since Henry had been here and then Kanan had been too drunk to consent to anything.In fact, he’d fallen asleep as soon as I’d dragged him upstairs, stripped his clothes off—a process in which Kane had been zero fucking help—and pushed him gently onto the bed.

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