Page 24 of One Day Like This (Excess All Areas 1)

“I guess my heart’s at the shelter. I know I could have made a lot more money using my degree, but you just make it work, right? Isn’t that what you and the band do?”

Matt nodded and looked out of the side window to merge onto the motorway. “Yeah. Day jobs top up our earnings. The less money we need to take as salary, the more we can plough back into the band. Studio time, touring, and shit.”

“You ever get tired of the hustle of it?” she asked, suddenly feeling every minute she’d worked that day.

“Playing music? No. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. Writing songs is everything. But trying to make it? I’m ready for someone else to take over the logistics of it.” He glanced over at her. “There are days when I wonder whether the grind is worth it. Whether dealing with Jase’s moods every day will ever pay off. Will I ever write a good enough song? Will we ever get a lucky break? Some days I feel like the tide is turning, then on others ... I guess I want us to be ready for it when it happens.”

“It’s weird, isn’t it? So often we have this idea of what success in life is going to look like, and it’s this place over there,” she said, gesturing out of the window. “Like when we getthere, everything will be amazing. But the truth is, we’ll never get there. I think you’ve already written great songs. And I think the fact people book you says you’re already lucky. But I get why to you, it feels like you aren’t there yet.”

Matt gazed over at her for a moment before returning his eyes to the road. “Words like that help. There are some mornings when I feel sick at the thought of pulling on one of Uncle Allan’s decorating firm polo shirts, or I want to call in sick.”

“I hope you get the payoff you hope for. You deserve it, not just because you’ve worked hard, but because you’re really good.”

“Thanks, Iz,” he said gruffly. “I hope Luke relents and lets you come to one of our gigs again soon. I’ve missed seeing you around. We’re so much better than we were two years ago.”

Iz grinned. “I came once. He just doesn’t know it. Gem got us tickets for a gig you did in Stoke and drove us down there. Snuck in the back. Watched the gig, came home.”

Matt laughed. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because one day, like you said, my brother will get over himself and I’ll be able to say I always supported him, even when he didn’t want me there.”

Matt glanced at her again. “It’s not that he doesn’t want you there. He just wants to keep you and the band apart. Two different things.”

Izabel bit down on the side of her thumb.

Two different things.

Seeing Matt, backlit, while the crowd sang the chorus of one of his songs, had been incredible. For a moment she’d been able to pretend. Pretend she was there as his girlfriend. Pretend he’d be excited to see her when he stepped off the stage.

Maybe one day,he’dtake the stick out ofhisarse and be glad she was there.

“I’ve wondered of late if it’s still about me at all. I’ve seen you guys. Seen the way you live the rock and roll lifestyle. I’ve seen Luke too hungover to move, I’ve seen the constant stream of women. I guess it sucks to not hang out with you guys anymore. You were really good. You seemed more in command of the stage.”

Matt shook his head. “Yeah. Probably four pints in. Still get chronic stage fright, even though I love performing. I don’t get how those two things can be in tandem, but here I am.”

Izabel tapped her lips as she thought. “They are different things though, right? I would imagine stage fright has to do with things like looking stupid onstage or fearing the crowd will hate you. While performing is about a passion for sharing story through song. For creating those expansive moments where people can lose themselves for a little while. Both those things can be true at the same time, right?”

Matt glanced in her direction again. “Yeah, Iz. I guess that’s the truth of it.” He leaned forward and turned the volume up a little, which she took as a clear indicator their conversation was over.

Slowly, the smog and concrete of the city was left behind, and the landscape became more expansive and finally lush and greener as they entered the Lake District National Park. The silence wasn’t awkward. If anything, it was a comfortable, reflective silence, each happy with their own thoughts.

It was only as they approached the hotel did she think back to the moment when his hand had covered hers. “Can we talk about how we’re going to behave ... act ... I don’t know ... be ... around each other this weekend?”

He glanced over at her. “What do you mean?”

Izabel bit the side of her thumbnail nervously. “Well, Harry thinks you’re here as my boyfriend. Shouldn’t we at least do coupley things? Like hold hands, dance together. I don’t think Harry will buy this if we don’t.”

* * *

“You’re right. I guess, I hadn’t thought this far ahead.”

Fuck. It was the truth. He hadn’t. Somehow, he thought he’d be able to walk the line between stoic wingman and friend. But that was not what Harry would expect, and by the look on Izabel’s face, it was less than she needed.

And the idea of being less than Izabel needed stung like a thousand scorpions crawling over his body.

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