Page 61 of I Knew You Were Trouble

‘He talked about the band’s initial break-up for a while. His tendency to be overprotective. Nothing controversial.’

The truth is that not once did Aidan look at me when he spoke. The entire experience was… strained. The more time I spend in his company, the more my stomach ties itself into knots.

‘Maybe you didn’t push him hard enough. You get what you were hoping for?’

‘Honestly, I’m not sure what I was hoping for.’

‘So what gives?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, why are you standing there, hoachin’ with the motherload of all sorrow?’

I straighten. ‘I am not.’

He looks me squarely in the face. ‘You like Aidan McArthur, don’t you?’

I don’t speak for some moments, looking to the floor, knocking my knuckles together. ‘What if I did?’

‘Then I’d be over the moon for you, Lex. What’s the issue?’

I shrug. ‘I mean… I didn’t come here to find a boyfriend. It could end in tears when Vaughn Herrera fires me from the project for inappropriate conduct.’

‘Why does he even need to know? You make the documentary. Your life outside of that ain’t his business. So long as you’re both into it.’

I stand there, unsure of what to say. I want to send a message to Aidan on my phone. Apologising.

Duncan puts down his glass and switches off the TV. ‘It’s like I said, Lex. One of these days… you’re gonna have to let a fella in.’

Sitting in my hotel room on the bed, my fingers hover over the keypad on my phone. My breathing is shallow. Duncan has a point. Despite my concerns, Vaughn Herrera has no business in my personal life.

Hey, it’s Lexi, I type out.If you’re not busy, can I meet you somewhere?

I pause before hitting the send key. If I go down this road, I’m not sure where it will lead.

I hit ‘send’, then for a moment have to put my head between my knees. Usually, when I meet a man, it’s because my colleagues have set me up on a blind date. I’ve never had this sensation of wild, fluttering butterflies in my stomach before.

The reply is almost instantaneous.

What’s your room number? I can come to you.

I send him my answer and promptly panic, hopping up and down into my skinny jeans and throwing on a black camisole. In the bathroom mirror I check I’ve got nothing in my teeth, and that my hair looks half decent. I spray a mist of perfume and walk through it.

The knock at my door makes the butterflies flutter away. They are replaced by full-on nauseousness.

When I open the door, he has the same jaunty smile on his face as he had before his interview. The smile that, by the time that very same interview was concluded, was nowhere to be seen. He’s changed into camo green cargo trousers and a grey T-shirt with a sports logo. ‘Hey. Everything alright?’ he asks.

I glance out into the corridor, left and right. It’s quiet. ‘I thought I could take you up on your offer to talk,’ I say.

‘Can I come in?’ he asks and I nod, opening the door wider.

‘Did you tell the others you were coming here?’ I ask once we’re inside.

‘I said I was gonna call my sister.’

I nod my head. He’s hovering close to me. I take a shaky breath and try to relax my shoulders. ‘I hate birthdays because I didn’t have any siblings and my mother wasn’t the most organised,’ I say suddenly. ‘When I was nine, I had to go to the childminder after school. She didn’t tell the childminder it was my birthday, and then when I got home presented me with a bottle of perfume and a picnic hamper from the Harrods Food Hall. Just what every nine-year-old girl wants. Every year it was something even more wacky than the year before. I still miss her though. And I should be grateful I got anything at all.’

He’s listened to everything I’ve said. ‘I’m sorry I got you flowers.’

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