Grand Lies by JC Hawke
21
Nina
I trudgeup the studio stairs feeling awful. My back is sore—presumably from the crash, and my head pounds. Vinny stopped on the way here to get me water and paracetamol, and Mase made me promise to call if I felt off in the day.
As I reach the top step, I spot Erin in the office looking nothing less than perfect. Rolling my eyes, I walk into the room, feeling like I have been dragged through a bush backwards. “How do you look so fresh after your flight and then a late night?” I ask, falling into the seat opposite the desk.
“Nina, your head, what happened?” she worries, eyeing the bruise on my brow.
“Don’t ask,” I say, shaking my head. She doesn’t need to worry about me, and I don’t need to relive the guilt of crashing Mason’s car.
“I love what you’ve done with the place. It’s looking incredible. You never told me how big the gym was. I expected a couple of treadmills.”
“Yeah, it’s getting there. I love it here really. Sorry, I must seem like a right grumpy cow. I got my period last night, and it’s hit me hard.”
“Ugh, cue the car crash.” She laughs. “I’m a raving bitch on my period.”
I laugh at the irony in her comment. “Oh, you have no idea.”
* * *
My morning only gets worse.Both my one-on-ones were late, which now only gives me twenty minutes until my next class. I call Scarlet and tell her I can’t meet, but that the girls will be free if she still wants to do lunch.
I am wiping down the mirrors when Erin pops her head around the door. “Oh, thank god you’ve stopped. You’re one busy lady!”
“Don’t, I’m starved.”
“I have half a sandwich left if you want it? Cheese and pickle.”
“Yes! Can I? I don’t know how I will make it to five o’clock.”
“Sure, hold up.”
She disappears, returning seconds later with the sandwich.
“Thank you, Erin.” I take it from her, biting into it immediately.
She smiles, but a frown creases her brow.
“What?” I wipe at my mouth, thinking I must have pickle there, and my cheeks heat.
“Nothing,” she says. “Your mum called. I wrote down the number, it’s in the office. She said she has been trying to reach you, and the phone had like fifty-something messages on it.”
“Oh, thanks, sorry about that.”
How did she get the studio number? I haven’t answered a call from my mum in weeks, yet she rings every other day like clockwork. I promised myself I’d wait until after the showcase to deal with both my mum and my potential dad situation.
“Don’t apologise,” she says, waving me off.
Her eyes roam the studio, falling on the piano. She walks over to it, gliding her petite, pale hand over the top of it. An aching primal urge wracks through me, and I want to tell her not to touch it, which is odd, considering it’s hers.
She turns to me and smiles tight. “I better get back to it.”
“Of course. Shout if you need me.”
She leaves the studio, closing the door behind her, and I turn back to the piano and stare at it, wondering why she has it here. Leaning in, I run my pointer over the initials I’ve traced a hundred times before. EML.
* * *
Mase
I needto stop allowing my friends in my office for lunch.
And my receptionist.
Although the bastard seems to be growing on me.
“Oh, your poor girlfriend, it sounds petrifying,” George mutters around a mouthful of taco.
“Fucking hell, Lowell. How much is that costing you?” Lance asks.
I lean back in my chair, perplexed. “No idea; I don’t even want to know to be honest.”
“And Nina, she was okay?” Charlie asks.
“Yeah, she had a small bruise on her head, and she is sore, but otherwise okay.”
“Jesus, mate.” Elliot shakes his head. “Good ‘I can make your head feel better sex’ though, am I right?” He grins, and I flip him off.
“I had an accident once, Mason. I was on my way to Alton Towers and my—”
“We don’t give a shit about your accident on the way to Alton Towers, George,” Lance tells him, cutting him off.
Lance can be a proper prick sometimes, but he’s a solid friend. He knows more than the boys do about me, and the fact he hasn’t shared that information confirms that I can trust him. The boys would be pissed if they knew I kept things from them, Elliot especially, but some things are better for everyone left unsaid.
“Don’t listen to Sullivan, George. What was it you were going to say?” I tell him, shaking my head at Lance with a smirk.
“So I was on my way to Alt—”
My phone starts to ring, cutting him off again. “Sorry, Georgie.” I accept the call and raise my phone to my ear. “Vin?”
“Mason. Nina just called, she isn’t feeling well. Just a headache, but I’m going to go get her.”
She still has a headache. Is that normal? “Where are you?”
“Downstairs, about to leave.”
I pinch my lip between my fingers, contemplating whether I can blow off my afternoon. I look to Elliot and he frowns. He’s been in almost every day for the past two weeks and I don’t feel as anxious about leaving with him here like I normally would.
“Give me five, Vinny. I’m coming with you.”
I hang up, standing and buttoning my suit jacket. “Sorry, boys.”
* * *
Nina is waitingat the curb when we pull up at the studio. I hop out and take her bag from her.
“Hey, baby. You look pale.”
Her shoulders drop. “Great!”
I lean in and kiss her forehead. “You’re still the most beautiful girl in the world, Pix.”
She rolls her eyes and winces.
“We’re going to the hospital, get your head checked.”
“I agree, you’re questionable to even myself, but I don’t need my head tested,” she sasses, making me relax a little with her cheek.
I round the car and stop to put her bag in the boot before slipping into the back seat next to her. Lifting her hand to my lips, I kiss her knuckles, and she leans back in the seat, clenching her eyes shut.
“Just take me home, Mase. I need to sleep off my headache, and then I will be fine,” she says without opening her eyes.
I glance at Vinny in the mirror, and he shrugs at a loss.
Helpful. Thanks, Vin.
* * *
Nina has beenasleep for hours. I worked from her bedside, hoping she would wake up feeling better after an hour or so. She didn’t.
After the fourth hour, I decided to go down to my gym, burning off the pent-up energy I had from being sat around. It didn’t work.
I cooked us dinner, following a recipe from the cookbook Scar got me last Christmas—it was alright. I ate alone at my dining table, contemplating how long before I could wake her up without feeling bad.
On the sixth hour, I watched a documentary on Bear Grylls in the jungle. The guy’s a savage.
On the seventh hour, I Googled head injuries, and pages of information later I was adamant she was dead or dying.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I burst through the door, finding her curled on her side, sleeping peacefully.
I can’t help myself though, placing my hand on her back to check she is in fact breathing. Letting out a sigh of relief, I remind myself never to believe everything I read on Google. With nothing else left to do, I take her small hand in mine and lay with her, hoping that she will wake up soon.
* * *
Nina
When I wake,my head is clear, and I roll to my back to find it’s dark out, the moon the only lighting in the room. Mason is lying beside me in a T-shirt and shorts, his hand locked in mine.
I smile at the beautiful specimen before me, feeling lucky to have him come into my life.
“Mase,” I whisper, but he doesn’t answer.
His brow is creased. Even in sleep, he doesn’t relax. My forever brooding beast. I trace his lips with my finger—he doesn’t flinch.
“I love you too,” I tell him.
* * *
I foundleftover chicken pie in the oven and wolfed it down in a matter of minutes. It was delicious and exactly what I needed, and I wondered while I ate it who the hell made it. Can Mason cook? Why didn’t I know this about him?
I don’t feel tired, and with the unwelcome thoughts of my mother plaguing me, I decide to do what I always do when everything gets too much. I get lost in the only other world I know.
I flick through my phone, deciding on Jesse Ware “Say You Want Me,”. And the surround sound has the music blistering through me, setting me in motion.
* * *
I can feelhim watching me, and as he steps towards me, I spin, knowing it will bring us toe to toe.
“You’re feeling better?” He smiles, holding me.
“So much better.” I brush his nose with mine, leaning back when I realise I’m all sweaty.
He pulls me back to him by the shirt. “I love you,” he tells me, taking my lips in a sweet kiss.
And it’s like the first time all over again. The way my heart beats almost painfully, and the ache that seeps through my veins, and to the tips of my fingers. It’s only for a split second, but that zap of energy reminds me that I am alive. I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m in his arms.
“You like this spot?” he asks, flashing a devilishly handsome smile.
I’d been dancing in the space between the sofas and the dining table. It’s a wide-open space and looks out over the London skyline.
It’s where I danced for him the first time.
“I do. I was going to suggest putting something here, being my house now as well.” My lips pull up in a smile, and I wrap my arms around his neck as I tease him. “But I suppose I could keep it for dancing.”
“I like you dancing in this space. Makes it feel special again,” he says between kisses.
“Well then, let’s keep it for dancing.”
