Chapter Four

Baby Joshua: Emergency, come to my hotel room x

Miss Emory Clark: Give me one good reason

Baby Joshua: I’m naked

 

Seriously?  Laughing loudly, I run a brush through my dripping hair and tightened my towel around my body, grabbing my key card on the way out the door.  We were staying on the same floor of the hotel with the rest of the crew and tour members, and I could walk to his room in my sleep after the four days spent staying here.  Which I basically did, given that he woke me up at six in the morn.

 

The door was open and I took a step inside, kicking a dirty shirt and boxers to the side of the room.  Water was running so I walked into the bathroom.  Sure enough, Josh was shaving.  Completely nude.  I sat down on the toilet, shrugging.  Nothing I haven’t seen before.

 

“What’s the emergency?” I ask, crossing my legs from the draft.  Maybe I should have dressed myself, but it was too late for that now.  He had said emergency.  Which probably meant he wanted to cuddle for a few hours before we had band practice.

 

Which means I should have come in clothes.

 

“Why does there have to be an emergency?” he asks, his laughter cutting short when he sees my glare.  Really?  Really?  I should have expected this.  “Are you really mad at me for missing you, Em?”

 

“Joshy, I could be sleeping,” I pout. 

 

He glances at me in the mirror, his razor held an inch away from his handsome face.  But I can say that.  I’ve seen him at his best and certainly at his worst.  And there is no denying the fact.  My best mate is ridiculously good looking.

 

“I may have a present for you,” he tells me slyly.

 

“Seriously?” I ask, perking up.  “Gimme gimme gimme.”

 

“Only if you tell me why you deserve a present.”

 

What is this, back when we were in nappies?  Since when do I need to prove myself worthy of receiving a gift?  Josh should give me things for sticking around this long.  Or forcing me to quit my job on such short notice.  Or making me fly halfway around the world for the opportunity of a lifetime.

 

Okay, maybe I should be thanking him.

 

“Today is my first sound check,” I cough.  “Management hasn’t actually heard me play before, unless you count Simon.”  Since when am I on a first name basis with him?  Oh, right.  When he decided that I was a piece of meat he wanted to devour.  “Bit unnerving, is all.”

 

“You’ll be wearing my lucky shirt though, right?” he asks to distract me, a smirk on his face.

 

“You mean my lucky shirt?” I clarify, pursing my lips.

 

“We all know who owned that shirt first, and who lent it to whom,” he tells me, using his Authority Voice.  I narrow my brown eyes, disagreeing.  “Mum bought me that shirt and the only reason I gave it to you is because it doesn’t fit me anymore.  Doesn’t fit you either.”

 

“Does too,” I argue.

 

“No.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It’s a children’s medium,” he points out smugly.

 

“Don’t hate me ‘cause you ain’t me,” I sing, standing up.  “We all know you’re secretly jealous because you wish you had my figure.”  I pinch the sides of his stomach.  “Look at your love handles.  It’s understandable.  I mean I’m practically a Goddess.”

 

“I agree completely,” he deadpans.

 

“Stawp lying,” I tease, flicking my wrist.

 

He laughs, pulling me into a hug.  The comfort of it makes me start trembling, which I hate.  I always tremble when I’m nervous.  Or anxious.  Or a large mix of both.  And I can say honestly, that I am very nervous and anxious about playing in front of One Direction’s management.  Not to mention the famous boys.  What if they don’t like me?  Or more importantly, my music?

 

“I think I have something that will make you feel better,” he continues, wrapping an arm around me and steering me towards his double bed.  Sandy Beales is in the bed next to him, watching the tele.  He gives me a head nod.  Right.  Because an almost naked man and a woman in a towel is normal.  Or rather, it is for us.

 

“You bought Halo?” I ask brightly, before narrowing my eyes in suspicion.  Never can be too sure with Josh.  He’s not the most attentive bloke.  “Not COD though, right?  You know I hate COD.”

 

“You play?” Sandy asks, deep with morning voice.  “Hm.”

 

“I dabble,” I shrug, before turning to Josh with my hands on my hips.

 

“She’s being modest,” Josh answers, pulling me into a headlock.  “Em can beat anyone, anywhere, anytime.”  He’s doing that proud father voice again.  And ruffling my hair.  Both things I hate.  “See, I told you she wasn’t really a girl.  Nothing to worry about.  Nothing at all.”

 

“Sure looks like one,” Sandy winks.

 

I flush, clutching my towel tighter around me.  I have said it before and I will continue to say it again, I hate compliments.  Even subtle ones like that.  Or was he flirting?  Because I hate that, too.  Flirting is awkward because the only boys I can joke around slash talk with are the ones I’m not attracted to.  Or rather, the ones who start talking to me and then I’m instantly put in the Friend Zone.

 

Except for the Niall Incident.  I was perfectly comfortable there, which is strange.  Another strange thing?  I saw him twice yesterday, in passing, and both times he practically sprinted away from me.  We weren’t even walking in the same direction.  He just booked it.

 

“Please, you’re making me blush,” I say.

 

“Don’t care.  Close your eyes,” Josh orders.  I do so obediently, because I trust him.  I’ve sort of always trusted him.  Can’t remember a time when I didn’t, rather.  “Now hold out your hands.”

 

“This again?” I groan.  “Last time you did this, I was handcuffed to the bed.”

 

“Kinky,” Sandy calls.  “I need to shower, but are you sure I can leave you two alone?  I don’t want any little Devines running around in a few months.”

 

I mime throwing up.

 

“Get a girlfriend, man,” he laughs.  And then I feel a weight being placed in my hands.  It’s long and flat.  Cool metal.  Sharp.  I feel myself getting excited even though I’m not quite sure what it is.  “Okay, Emory, now open.”

 

I scream.