Page 19 of Wish You Knew
“Well, Talia, do you want to get out of here?”
Talia glanced around the room. “Why would we want to leave? There’s everything I could possibly want here, booze, weed, you…” Her body ground against mine; my dick grew hard.
While she had a point, I didn’t make a habit of public displays of affection and I certainly had no intention of screwing Talia with an audience. The only thing I wanted an audience for were my gigs.
“Then let’s get some more drinks and another joint.” I ground out the remains of my first with the heel of my boot.
“You got it.”
Talia lifted herself off me and sashayed across the room, tossing her black hair. I watched the swing of her hips, admiring the curve of her arse. She could make the perfect distraction.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Normally, I would ignore it, but something made me look at the message. When I stared at the screen, I wish I hadn’t.
Rosie: Great gig tonight, thought you were amazing, as ever. Sorry to have missed you after. Catch up soon? xxx
It was as if Manchester had never happened. I’d seen her around tonight, of course I had. And Saff had invited me out on their dinner date. But I couldn’t sit and make polite conversation with Rosie Tatton. Not without wanting to strip every piece of clothing off her and explore every single inch of her creamy smooth skin. I scrolled back in the message to the pictures she’d accidentally sent me from her last shoot. Desire clutched at my chest. Fuck, she really was beautiful.
“Here you go.” Talia thrust a tumbler of whisky under my nose. “Your girlfriend checking up on you?” She laughed.
I’d drunk enough to be on the verge of self-destruction.
Rosie wasn’t here. Talia was.
I switched my phone off and shoved it in my pocket.
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
With a wicked grin, I pulled Talia back into my lap.
There wasn’t much of the evening I remembered after that.
Hazy flashbacks of several lines of coke, washed down with even more whisky. Laughing and joking with the lead singer of the headline band. Jamming with their guitarist. Generally causing mayhem until we got kicked out of the dressing room. The party continued at a basement bar close to the venue, which stayed open until the very early hours of the morning. I honestly didn’t remember how much, or what, I’d drunk or taken. All I knew was that I wasn’t feeling any pain.
When we were finally asked to leave the bar around four in the morning, Talia glued herself to my side. We fell out of the doors, stumbling around and trying to get our bearings. I had no idea where the hotel was or how the hell I would get back there.
Squinting, I spotted a guy with a long lens camera lurking around in one of the streets opposite.
“Oy!” I yelled. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Leave him, he’s not worth it,” mumbled Talia, wobbling on her heels. “You’re probably not the money shot anyway.” She shoved me back against the wall, pressing her tits against my chest. “Come on, are we going back to your hotel?” Her breath smelled of beer and smoke, which did nothing for my senses.
My stomach heaved against the smell. I turned my face away, bent over and threw up, narrowly avoiding her shoes.
“Ugh, that’s disgusting.” She recoiled, putting some well-deserved distance between us.
“Think our night’s over, Talia, don’t you?” I slurred, wiping my mouth.
Her head snapped around to see the other members of the band heading down the road towards the taxi rank.
“Wait for me!” she called. Without another word in my direction, she tottered off after them, leaving me alone.
I slumped back against the wall, the cement rough through my shirt. I couldn’t have felt worse if I’d tried.
Somehow, I managed to get back to the hotel and made it back to my room.
I stripped off my clothes and slid under the duvet, the white cotton cooling my heated skin.
The whole evening had been a fiasco. One glimmer of hope was I hadn’t brought Talia back to the hotel. Shagging around when I was off my face was never a good idea.
