Mr. Nice Guy by Belinda Williams

Chapter Seventeen

Chelsea hadn’t meantto scream that loudly, but she couldn’t help it.

Tom had managed to get tickets to see her favourite band in Sydney tonight. It was a miracle.

It was also a miracle that the car had stayed on the road after her ear-piercing squeal. Fortunately, Tom’s paramedic training had kicked in, and after a slight involuntary swerve within their lane, he had things under control.

Chelsea then proceeded to repeat herself for the rest of the trip to Sydney, gushing about how amazing it was that he’d been able to get tickets. Apparently someone at his work hadn’t been able to go at the last minute and he’d snapped them up. The band she loved was popular, but not popular enough to do a show in a smaller city like Newcastle. Chelsea had tried to buy tickets to the Sydney show when they went on sale, but they’d sold out too quickly. She may or may not have cried after she missed out, although she didn’t tell Tom that.

The two-hour trip to Sydney felt like it took hardly any time at all, and the rest of the night passed in a blur of excitement, music and lights. Tom even appeared to enjoy himself, though maybe her smile was catching, because it had been glued to her face the entire night.

After the show was over, Chelsea switched between thanking Tom endlessly and raving about how good the concert had been on the walk back to the car. In typical fashion, Tom took her exuberance in his stride and let her talk while they exited the car park. Chelsea was so busy talking that she didn’t notice they were pulling up in front of a hotel a few minutes later until he’d stopped the car.

‘Um, why are we here?’ she asked.

‘We’re not driving home tonight. I figured rather than get home at two or three in the morning, we could spend the night in Sydney. I cleared it with your boss. My treat.’

Not for the first time that night, she gaped at him. ‘You tamed the Dragon Lady? How on earth did you convince her to go along with you? This all sounds amazing, but I will totally pay you back. Just let me know how much.’

‘A Nice Guy doesn’t reveal his secrets, but Barb was totally fine, don’t worry. And Chels, don’t worry about the money. Consider it my Mr. Nice Guy finale moment.’

For a brief second, Chelsea registered the fact that, as of tonight, their arrangement had come to an end. She felt a stab of something she couldn’t identify. Then gratitude kicked in again.

‘Well, thank you. Again. I won’t stop mentioning any of this for about, oh, let me see, the next few years, I think.’

Tom laughed. ‘Seriously, it’s all good. I’m glad you had a fun night.’

‘Fun? Fun? I had an amazing night, Tom. Truly. I can’t thank you enough.’

‘So I’ve noticed.’

Chelsea giggled. ‘OK, so maybe I’ll stop mentioning it eventually, or I might become annoying.’

‘You’re never annoying, Chelsea.’

There it was. Her full name. He said it so rarely that, when he did, something about it always stopped her in her tracks. She couldn’t put her finger on why exactly. Maybe it was the gentle tone. It almost sounded like it held affection, but it was more likely amusement on his part and she was misreading it. It had been a big night, and her imagination was definitely running away with her.

But this time she wasn’t going to make a fool of herself and demand he kiss her or suggest that he like her or anything stupid like that. Instead, Chelsea opted for a joke.

‘I’m obviously not trying hard enough to annoy you, then.’

That earned her another smile.

‘Come on,’ Tom said. ‘I’ll just grab the bags.’

‘Oh my God, I didn’t pack a bag!’

‘I did, don’t worry.’

Chelsea stared after him as he got out of the car and then scrambled to open the door. She followed him to where he was standing with the boot open.

‘Far be it from me to criticise any aspect of this evening, but if you packed a bag for me, surely that means you went through my things?’

Chelsea wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that. It wasn’t like Tom was creepy in any way, shape or form. It just felt weird to know that he’d done something so intimate for her.

‘Don’t worry, I basically just grabbed your gym bag, which has your toiletries bag in it, then your favourite T-shirt that you wear to bed. It means you’ll have to wear activewear home, but you’ll live.’

‘Um, underwear?’ she asked, feeling awkward about pointing it out, but worried she wouldn’t have a fresh pair.

‘I grabbed some clean ones from the washing basket. You know that basket you never put away that always has an endless supply of clean clothes?’ he teased.

His response relieved her. The image of Tom standing by her underwear drawer wasn’t something she had to worry about.

‘Thank you. You’ve thought of everything.’

Tom shut the boot, and they walked into the foyer of the hotel together. It was pleasant and inviting. Nothing too luxurious, which Chelsea was happy about, or she would have felt bad about Tom paying her share. The concert had been held in the Olympic Park precinct where the year two thousand games had occurred, and it was serviced by several reputable hotels, this being one of them.

She followed Tom to the front desk and waited while he spoke to the staff member. She noticed there was a nice restaurant at the other end of the foyer and hoped that maybe she could shout Tom breakfast as a “thank you”. It wasn’t until she heard him say, ‘No, you don’t seem to understand’, that she realised she’d missed most of the conversation so far.

‘I’m terribly sorry, sir,’ the hotel employee said. ‘We only have one room booked under this name.’

‘I remember booking two rooms, though. It said “Twin suite” when I booked it, and it suggested the rooms were adjoining.’

‘Ah.’ The young woman smiled. ‘I see. Twin means two beds, not two rooms. Some of them do have a door to an adjoining room, but you still need to book two rooms.’

Tom frowned, and Chelsea stepped up to the desk. Tom had made an honest mistake, and Chelsea didn’t want him to feel any worse than he already did.

‘That’s alright,’ Chelsea said. ‘These things happen. Do you have another room available, please?’

The woman matched Tom’s frown while she brought up what must have been the booking system on the screen facing her. Tom and Chelsea waited awkwardly while she stared intently at it for at least a minute.

The young woman, who Chelsea noted was called Sara according to her name badge, smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m terribly sorry. But we’re completely booked. This often happens when we have a big concert in the area.’

‘That’s alright,’ Chelsea said. It wasn’t the end of the world. ‘Maybe one of the other hotels has a room vacant tonight. We can go and ask.’

The woman picked up a phone that had been out of view beneath the desk. ‘Let me. I can make a few calls, but I must warn you that if we’re booked out, the other hotels may be as well.’

‘That would be helpful,’ Chelsea replied, doing her best to sound cheerful.

Poor Tom. He’d gone to such lengths to make this the perfect night for her, and now a simple mistake was putting a spanner in the works.

He shot her an “I’m sorry” look, and she touched his arm.

“It’s OK”, she mouthed as Sara made some calls. They moved away while Sara spoke on the phone, not wanting to stand over her.

Five minutes later, Sara beckoned them back and her expression was still sympathetic.

‘I’m sorry, but I had no luck.’

Tom sighed, and Chelsea was quick to try to smooth things over.

‘Really, it’s OK. We’ll manage. You said the room was a Twin room, didn’t you? With two beds?’

Sara nodded and referred to the computer screen once more. ‘Yes, that’s right. Oh, hang on.’ She shot them a worried look, and Chelsea didn’t feel quite so positive anymore. ‘We appear to have upgraded you to a King suite.’

‘Oh, that won’t be necessary,’ Chelsea said, relieved. ‘The Twin will be fine.’

‘Except the Twin room is no longer available,’ Sara said slowly, then hurried to add, ‘I’d like to offer you both a complimentary breakfast to make up for the miscommunication. The King suite also comes with a spa bath, if that’s any consolation.’

Tom stepped forward. ‘While that’s a kind gesture, I think maybe we should just drive home.’

Chelsea grabbed his arm. ‘Are you sure, Tom? It’s been a really long day. You’ve already driven two hours here tonight after you worked an early shift.’

Tom leaned in close and lowered his voice. ‘What do you suggest? We can’t share a bed.’

A shiver of something tickled Chelsea’s spine. A warning? Expectation?

She didn’t try to put her finger on exactly what it had been, and instead looked into his green eyes. As well as being indescribably lovely, they were completely genuine. Chelsea realised two things in that moment about this week’s nice guy agreement. It had proven what she had known all along about Tom—that she could trust him—and it had also highlighted something else.

That the idea of sharing a bed with him was surprisingly tempting.

But that train of thought was dangerous and absolutely no way to repay Tom’s kindness or thoughtfulness this week, especially after his wonderful surprise tonight. So instead, she would pretend as if everything was completely normal between them, exactly the same as it always had been. Tom was her housemate and friend, nothing more.

Although maybe she had developed a new liking for nice guy fantasies . . .

‘Chelsea?’

Tom was waiting, and Chelsea forced a smile onto her face.

‘It’s no big deal,’ she said. ‘I trust you. You usually sleep in the next room, anyway, and it’s a king bed. We’ll manage.’

‘You could drive my car home?’ he suggested.

Chelsea released a tight sigh. That might be the safest option for her emotionally, but not necessarily when it came to their physical safety.

‘Honestly? I’m pretty tired, and driving at night in an unfamiliar car doesn’t seem like a great idea if we’ve both had a long day.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s almost twelve thirty.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Of course. If it gets awkward, I’ll just make you sleep in the spa,’ she joked to lighten the mood.

Chelsea looked up to find Sara smiling at them.

‘We’ll take the room, thanks,’ Chelsea told her, sounding way more confident than she felt.