Page 41 of I Would Die for You

“Hey, I’m sorry,” says Ben, going to put his arm out to comfort her, before thinking better of it. “I really didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you’d like the idea.”

Nicole goes to speak, but her voice deserts her, so she nods instead.

“It’s OK, I get it,” says Ben, falling back against the seat, deflated. “I don’t know what I was thinking—I should never have taken your words.”

“It’s… it’s not that,” she manages. “It’s just—”

“No, you’re right,” he says, ejecting the cassette in a fit of pique. “I overstepped the mark. I wouldn’t have liked it if someone—”

“My mother’s very ill,” says Nicole, the words tumbling out before she can stop them.

An ominous silence fills the car, the atmosphere suddenly dark and foreboding as the gravitas of those four words and what they might mean circle the restricted space.

“I’m sorry,” says Ben, as he presses a button to slide up the soundproof-glass partition.

“We don’t know if she’s going to make it.”

She’s crying now, and without saying a word Ben pulls her into him and wraps his arms around her so tightly that she feels as if she’s being cocooned in a security blanket. As ridiculous as it sounds, she can’t remember feeling this safe since her mother last hugged her, when she had enough strength in her arms to do so.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know why…” She sobs into Ben’s chest, though what she’s going to say, she doesn’t know. Bizarrely, in this moment, her overriding concern is not getting last night’s mascara on his shirt.

“Is your dad around?” Ben asks gently, resting his chin on the top of her head.

Nicole nods.

“I’m so sorry—I never meant to hurt you,” he says. “If I’d known…”

“It’s fine,” she says, pulling herself away from him, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “What you did was really special—I liked it a lot.”

Every sinew in Ben’s body relaxes with relief. “Maybe you’ll want to record it one day.”

Nicole snorts unattractively. “Right, like that’s going to happen.”

Ben smiles that smile of his and, despite herself, something flutters deep in Nicole’s stomach.

“I have a friend who has a studio not far from here. We could go and fool around a bit.” His eyes alight with mischief. “Play with some sounds, work on some lyrics—just see what happens, no pressure.”

Panic and exhilaration engulf Nicole in equal measure. This can’t be happening. This only happens to people in movies. “Are you for real?”

“So, is that a yes?”

“But why would you do this?” she asks, her usual cynicism creeping back with a vengeance; the thought of anyone doing anything without expecting something in return is alien to her. “If it’s to get me into bed, it’s a rather elaborate ruse.”

Ben throws his head back and laughs. “No disrespect, but if I wanted to get laid, the fact that I’m the biggest pop star in the country right now is usually enough.”

“That and your unswerving modesty,” says Nicole with raised eyebrows.

“Exactly!” says Ben. “So, are we doing this or what?”

“OK,” she says, hesitantly. “But I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“And I wouldn’t expect you to,” he says, with a wry smile.

19

CALIFORNIA, 2011

I’m inventing things to do in order to avoid having to go upstairs and get ready for bed. But I know that the longer I draw it out, the elephant in the room is only going to loom ever larger in Brad’s mind. I hear him stomp from the bedroom to the bathroom, slamming the door.

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