Page 101 of I Knew You Were Trouble

Duncan is munching on a pastry. He hands me a glass of orange juice then helps himself to one. ‘How’d you think it went today?’

I feel a little bad that I can’t tell him about Aidan and me, though I remind myself that Aidan’s not telling his bandmates either. ‘It’s certainly going to spice up this documentary,’ I say, chinking my glass with his.

We drink.

‘I took a leaf out of the Cal Whitlock playbook today,’ Duncan continues. ‘I asked Meredith out on a date just now.’

I almost spit out my drink in delight. ‘And…?’

‘She said yes. Maybe Cal inspired her too.’

I want to jump up and down. ‘When?’

‘Tomorrow night.’

‘That’s amazing.’

‘Well, you know me. I’m the king of first and only dates.’

‘But you like this one.’

His cheeks flush a shade of raspberry. ‘Aye. I really like this one.’

‘Did you book somewhere? This is New York, you can’t just turn up.’

Duncan is about to respond when a familiar voice pipes up from behind me. ‘And here was me thinkin’ you weren’t gonna be any trouble. At least, not again.’

I turn to find Ziggy staring at me with a raised brow.

‘Management has emailed that picture to theNew York Post,’ he carries on. ‘Local news won’t know what’s hit ’em, and on a bloody Sunday. Don’t think anyone was expecting this kind of documentary. I see now, why they fired the last bloke.’

‘Would that be acomplimentyou are giving me, Ziggy?’ I hum.

‘Might be. As long as you don’t mess about with them lads, you’ll keep me happy.’

I swallow tightly. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’

He gives a curt nod and is about to walk away.

‘Ziggy, can we ask a favour?’ I blurt.

‘What?’

‘Is there any way you can swing a booking at a fancy restaurant in Manhattan for tomorrow night?’

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Despite it being a Sunday, the boys are tied up with rehearsal all day for a performance in Times Square onGood Morning Americathe following morning. Duncan goes along to film them. Bodhi is dispatched to fetch Cal from Bianca’s apartment. I stay out of the way, taking a walk out into the bustling streets of Manhattan, and I daydream about Aidan the entire journey. He’s the only one who constantly occupies my thoughts. He’s the only one who gives me butterflies and makes my heart pound in his presence. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I feel happy, yet guilt still balloons in my stomach. What I have with him should be something to be proud of. Not something I hide away. It shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks. I contemplate whether it’s love that I feel, or whether I’ve got caught up in Rebel Heart hysteria.

By nightfall, I’m impatient to see him. Aidan sends me a message to go to his room at eleven p.m., as the whole band and Ziggy are being dined out by record company executives.

At ten fifty-five, I knock softly on his door.

It opens a millisecond later, Aidan standing in a navy-blue T-shirt and jeans.

He grins, yanking me into his embrace, pushing the door closed behind me and pressing me up against it, imprisoning me, and I love the feel of his hard body pushing against mine. His kisses are hungry, his mouth insistent, and I match his eagerness with my own.

‘I missed you,’ he whispers between kisses.

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