“Not true. Some people need a gentle nudge, while others need a shove off a cliff. Indie is the latter. Last night she was her old self again. You’re the one she needs, whether she admits it or not.”
“You’re single, right?” I say.
Her eyes narrow. “I’m yet to meet a man who doesn’t scare easy. Liam scares often.”
Tipping my head back, I laugh. “Good luck with that. Maybe find a cage fighter.”
“I don’t like the smell of blood… and it’s slippery.”
“You’ve slipped on blood?”
“I’ve never walked through a puddle of oil, either, but I imagine I’d slip.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Has anyone ever told you that talking to you is kind of like slamming your head against a wall?”
“An ex-boyfriend once did. He was a dick.”
I see why Indie likes her. She’s straight talking and loyal. There’s nothing I identify with her more than wanting to help Indie.
“Will you try with her? While you’re in LA, and while she’s so far away from whatever it is she’s scared of here.”
“Mila,” I groan.
“Oh no, I know that version of my name. You’re not doing this for me, you’re doing it for her. Because you love her.”
I lift the mug to my lips. “You’re very annoying.”
“That insult bounces, Spencer. I’ve heard it way too many times. Anyway, now that’s sorted, can you introduce me to Ethan Franklin? That guy is fine.”
“Ethan is great but he’s not the cage fighter type.”
Her shoulders sink. “That’s disappointing.”
“I’ll try with Indie. Of course, I will. I want her to be happy, too.”
Mila smiles as she looks over at me. “Make it happen.”
Thirteen
Indie
I get into my car, and I exhale for what feels like a year. There’s probably not a single thing about forensic mental health that I do not know. My mind is done. I’m drained, but I feel good for it.
I can’t go home now because they’ll be awake in a few hours, and I definitively need to nap longer than that. Maybe Spencer will be up for a movie marathon earlier than planned and I can sleep on his bed.
I unlock my phone and call him.
“Indie, hi,” he says after the third ring.
“Were you asleep?”
“Erm, yeah. What’s up?”
“Nothing, just wondered if you’re up for a movie day.”
“Give me thirty minutes to get up and have a shower, then you’re on.”
It’ll take me ten minutes to get to his house. “Okay, I’ll see you soon.” I’m not going home before. Starbucks is close so I can grab a quick coffee before heading over.
We hang up, and I get out of my car. My legs feel heavy as I walk towards some much needed caffeine. It’s freezing outside but I know a cappuccino is waiting. Why is Spence now taking thirty minutes to shower and get dressed? He’s always been ready within ten.
Bloody fame is getting to him.
My cheeks are frozen by the time I get to Starbucks. I order a large cappuccino and take it to an empty table, which isn’t hard to find because they’ve just opened. Two hours of non-stop reading has turned my mind to mush.
Taking a sip of my drink, I look out of the window at the frost sitting on the ground, and the tiny icicles hanging from the window frame above me. Winter is pretty, but I don’t like being cold.
Before I was old enough to navigate utilities and things, we would often get the heating cut off because my parents forgot to pay. I would sit in my room with my fluffy pyjamas, dressing gown, slippers, and quilt wrapped around me while playing with toys.
I continue to people watch as I drink. A few elderly couples walk past hand in hand, heading towards Marks and Spencer to shop.
Spencer.
Will he be out of the shower yet?
Don’t think about him naked.
I have twelve minutes until I can leave. I bite my lip, hardly able to contain my excitement.
Why can’t I go now? I could turn up early and he would just send me into the living room while he finished getting ready. He’s never given me such a specific time before. He’s only ever said ‘come whenever’ or ‘come now’ if we were meeting up.
He wouldn’t have a girl who wasn’t me over.
Unless he went out to meet one?
No, not this early. He’s not on set now so there’s no way he would get up before ten at the weekend.
A few people come and go as I wait for the minutes to pass. No one seems to notice me sitting alone by the window. I kind of like that. I can spy without being seen. I wonder about each one of them. They look happy, but are they really? The couples seem madly in love, but you can’t be happy all of the time.
Nothing is ever as it appears.
Exactly twelve minutes later, I pick up my bag and head back to the car. The high street is getting busier now the shops are open. I weave between crowds of people out Christmas shopping, and others hanging around as if this is just a really cold beach.
I slide into my car and turn the engine on. My heating takes a few minutes to kick in, so I don’t bother to wait. Spencer would wait until his car had warmed and his heated seat was burning his toned butt. The only way I’m getting a heated seat is if I sit on a hot water bottle. At least I have a car. It’s not fancy but it’s independence, and it means I can get away.
Ten minutes later, my tension ebbs away as I pull up outside his house.
I cut the engine and lock the door behind me.
Spencer yells for me to come in when I knock.
“Where are you, Spence?” I ask once inside.
“Living room.”
I find him sitting on the sofa with two cups of steaming hot tea on
