Page 9 of Touch in the Dark

“Remi,” I breathe out. “You shouldn’t have.”

“You haven’t even opened it,” he laughs at me, then sits down beside me, close enough that his thigh is pressed to mine. I glance up and catch our reflection in the mirror. He does too and slips his arm around me. “Babe, if I was straight, you’d be the only girl I’d want.”

“Don’t make me sniffle. Charlotte Tilbury,” I wave a finger around my face as explanation. I open the box and there are small star shaped diamond stud earrings inside. I make a sound, which has Remi rearing back slightly. “Are you crazy?”

“No, but clearly you are. Shut up with the complaints, the ‘you shouldn’t haves’ and the ‘I can’t accept this.’ Just put them in.”

“Well,” I huff. “I can tell you with absolute certainty, I was not going to tell you I cannot accept them,” I grin. He watches as I hop off the bed and go to the mirror, carefully putting the earrings in. I admire them turning my head from side to side.

“You like?”

“I love,” I whirl around to face him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Now, I got you another gift, something a little bigger, it’s upstairs."

"Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why are you giving me gifts all of a sudden?”

He grabs my hand and walks me to the door, giving me a critical once over before he sweeps me out into the hallway. “Because when you met me, I was no one, but you treated me like I was someone. Now I’m someone and you treat me like I’m normal.”

I pucker my brow at that one. But I get it. He’ll always just be Remi to me, even if this house soon will be packed full of A list celebrities all fawning over him. He takes my hand in his and leads me up the stairs.

“Well, what is it?” I ask as we reach the top floor.

He surreptitiously points to a guy who has just grabbed himself a drink and is looking around, like he doesn’t quite believe where he is. “He’s my oldest friend from high school,” he whispers in my ear. “I brought him out here for his birthday.”

Holy wow. He’s wearing a suit like Remi’s but it’s more casual somehow, even though I can see its expensive. He’s wearing a white t-shirt underneath it too, and sneakers. He’s hot, like Christian Hogue hot, and I should know, I met that guy on a photoshoot once. Talk about a man who could melt off your panties.

“You got me your best friend as a gift?” my eyes widen to saucers. “Are you out of your damn mind?” I clutch his sleeve urgently, trying not to make eye contact with his friend. “This is not normal behaviour Remi.”

“What? I’m just introducing you to my friend,” he sounds not even a little bit as if this is innocent.

“Oh yeah, sure, that’s what this is. I can’t believe you, this is embarrassing.”

Remi winks. “Elsa, relax. I haven’t told him anything, because like you keep saying, there is nothing to tell. Your single, he’s single, you’re both in the city. And Chase is hot, he’s a good guy and he will look fantastic on your arm tonight, or in your bed later.” He leans in and kisses my cheek. “Go with it and say thank you, Remi.”

“You’re an ass…” I glance at Chase as he spots us and grins wide. I keep my eyes on him as he walks toward us. Then lean into Remi. “Thank you, Remi.”

Chapter Three

The sudden sound of thumping bass wakes me up with a start. Instantly, I can tell Archer is in a mood. When he gets like this, he doesn’t seem to give a shit who he is bothering. The neighbours have complained more than once. Fuck knows what time it is, but it is definitely too early for this pounding noise.

I throw back the covers with a resigned sigh and sit up. My feet touch the freezing cold wooden floor and I hiss, fighting the urge to get back into bed. Winters in New York are no joke. I should be used to it, having grown up mostly in Up State New York, but living in L.A. for the last ten years has thinned my blood. It is taking me a while to readjust. It’s not like we have skimped on the place and the heat is keeping it warm, but we need a heated floor, like Adam and Jordan have in their upscale mansion apartments. Or a rug at the very least. I make a mental note to ask Janie about that later. It isn’t like I can just walk into a store to pick up a rug for myself.

Given this is the third time in a week Arch has gone dark and put music on to work out his tension, I am beginning to wonder if it’s time to get a place of my own, even though that isn’t really what I want to do. People may believe I’m a solitary guy, but I actually enjoy living with my friend.

I pull on some boxers and socks and snag a t-shirt from where I flung it over a chair last night putting it on as I open my bedroom door. Our place might not be as grandiose as the other guys, but the apartment in Hell’s Kitchen is nothing to complain about. We have an impressive corner apartment with our own spacious bedrooms, with en-suites, on opposite ends of the apartment to each other, a living area and a home gym, despite the building having its own gym and pool. We also managed to snag an apartment with a terrace. The obnoxiously loud techno music is coming from the gym.

Through the huge windows, I can see it’s early from the still lightening grey sky. Too early for this shit. I feel like a nagging wife as I open the door. My bandmate, one of my best friends is furiously punching the bag hanging from the ceiling in the far corner of the room. His back is to me, he’s topless wearing just a pair of shorts, his back is covered in sweat.

Rather than go up behind him and risk getting a punch if he startles, like a thoughtful friend, I pick up a water bottle and launch it, right at his ass. It hits with precision and Archer yelps and spins around, grabbing his butt.

“Alexa, music off,” I practically shout. The music cuts of instantly and the robotic voice repeats my order. “What the fuck, Arch?”

“You threw a bottle at me.”

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