If We Ever Meet Again. Portia MacIntosh

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If We Ever Meet Again - Portia MacIntosh

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I say undefeated. ‘Not many dates left now, I bet you’ll miss it when it’s over.’

      ‘Yeah, probably.’

      This is impossible. I was hoping that last night he was either too drunk to remember, or at least too drunk to care, but I’m guessing he isn’t my biggest fan right now.

      ‘I’ll see you on the bus, yeah?’ I ask, but I don’t expect him to reply, and he doesn’t. Then, the second my foot touches the first step, he calls after me.

      ‘I hear you’re sharing a room with Luke tonight. There’s a shocker,’ he says with an extra helping of sarcasm, just in case I wasn’t picking up the vibes.

      It’s my turn to do the ignoring. I could kick off, but where would that get me? He’s ‘the talent’ and I’d be off this bus in a flash if I got in his face. Anyway, I’m not going to let him ruin tonight for me. So what if I’m sharing a room with Luke? It’s nothing to do with him.

      Back on the bus, I make my way to the living area. The guys already have a film on so I take a seat next to Eddie. Mark isn’t far behind, and he sits down opposite me. I’m so not looking forward to the drive to Birmingham, all squashed up together in this small space.

      ‘So, Nicole, this feature you’re writing on our tour, anything interesting to report yet?’ Eddie asks me and I wonder if Mark told him anything when they were alone together this morning.

      ‘Plenty,’ I tease. ‘You’re going to wish you hadn’t invited me.’

      ‘Don’t pull any punches,’ he replies. ‘What you looking so worried about, Boy Wonder?’ he adds, looking over at Ben. Ben is so quiet and, surprise, surprise, he’s already texting away on his phone.

      ‘Oi, I’m talking to you. Had fun last night, didn’t you?’ Eddie shouts at Ben – who looks embarrassed as hell right now – in a borderline aggressive manner.

      That reminds me, I’m here to write a feature and not to groupie my way through the whole band.

      Apart from the noise coming from the TV, and the odd text alert from Ben’s phone, the bus is so quiet. The roadies have their own transport and do their own thing, and Mick, the band’s tour manager, is also their driver so it’s just me and the boys here, and everyone is too tired or too hungover to chat.

      Eddie yawns, stretching out his arms and wrapping one around me. As he does this, Mark sniggers and shoots me a filthy look. I’m finding it hard not to look at him because he’s sitting opposite me. I take my phone from my bag and I only get to tap a few buttons before it turns off. Bloody smartphones and their rubbish battery life. I’ll just close my eyes for a bit, anything that means I don’t have to look at Mark.

      Awkwardness aside, I’m really looking forward to tonight. Sleeping in a nice hotel is always better than sleeping on the bus and it will be much easier to avoid Mark too. Why does drama follow me around where-ever I go? I still can’t get my head around what happened last night. We’ve never really been that close, not like I am with Ed and Luke, but he was hell-bent on getting close last night. One thing I do know for sure though, this won’t be mentioned in the magazine.

      I wish I could text Emily. I’ll bet she’s sitting at my desk with her feet up. I left her in charge and under strict instructions to call me if anything eventful happened. Obviously she can’t do that now that my battery has died, but I’m sure she’ll be fine. I hope Vicky isn’t taking the piss – I still can’t believe she’s staying at Em’s house. Not only is she taking advantage of her good nature, but she’s making it impossible for us to chat like we usually do, she is always around.

      How long does it take to get to Birmingham, seriously? This is the longest journey of my life. My head is resting on Eddie’s chest and I realise I must have dozed off for a bit. I have no idea for how long but we’re still not there yet. Mark and Luke are playing a video game, Ben is still texting and Eddie is asleep. The living area looks a little tidier, which means someone must have been really bored.

      Mess aside, I adore tour buses. Try to imagine a really glamorous caravan. This isn’t the biggest one I’ve been on, but it has bunks for eight people so it’s still pretty massive. The living area is amazing, you can’t really tell that you’re on a bus. There’s a big table surrounded by sofas and blacked-out windows and a massive flat-screen TV on the wall with a DVD player and a PS3. The kitchen has everything you could need – I imagine, you know I’m not a very kitchen-y person. There’s a kettle, fridge, microwave and even an ice-maker. Just down the aisle is where the bunks are, four on each side. They’re not the comfiest beds in the world, but they’re certainly not the worst. I could so easily live on one of these buses – as long as I had more clothes with me, of course.

      I’m still feeling tired and Eddie is so comfy to cuddle up to – despite the rock-hard muscles in his chest – maybe I’ll just fall back asleep until we get there.

       Chapter Eleven

      The Slut

      The sun is shining brightly in Birmingham today, it’s a shame it is so damn cold. As a result of waking up on the sofa yet again today, my back is killing me.

      I don’t know where everyone is. Eddie is asleep next to me, although with me leaning on him I doubt he could move even if he wanted to, and Mark is still sat in the same place, glaring at me again. I wonder if he’s moved at all.

      Thank God, we are finally here. I don’t know my way around Birmingham (don’t act like you’re surprised) but I’d really like to get to a decent clothes shop and get something to wear. The novelty is starting to wear off my bright orange tent-dress.

      ‘All right, Mark?’ I ask brightly, giving him another chance to put what happened behind us.

      ‘Yeah, fine. Worming your way in with Eddie now, are you?’

      ‘She’s been in with me for a long time, you grumpy fucker,’ Eddie says sounding half asleep, his eyes still closed.

      ‘I’m going for a shower,’ Mark informs us, storming off.

      ‘What’s his problem?’ Eddie asks me as soon as Mark has gone. ‘You knock him back last night or something?’

      ‘Not exactly,’ I reply, hoping that will be the end of it.

      ‘No way!’ he shouts, sitting up straight and suddenly wide awake. ‘You knocked him back? Tell me everything!’

      ‘It’s nothing really.’

      ‘I’m going to get you so drunk tonight, you’re going to tell me everything,’ he laughs.

      ‘Yeah right, you’re going to be less drunk than me? Remind me, who had to be carried to the taxi last night?’

      ‘Don’t put that in your magazine,’ he laughs. ‘The chicks won’t go for that.’

      ‘It was only today you told me that I could write about anything,’ I remind him.

      ‘Yeah, anything but that. Write about how you knocked Mark back though.’

      He’s clearly finding this hilarious and I have to admit he’s cheering

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