Chapter 6: Drunk

I rarely slept before midnight on Fridays. For the last few months, Mac and I had been nightclub-hopping around London, rolling into bed in the early hours of the morning. Yet it just so happened that the one Friday I turned in early was the one Friday where my phone wouldn't stop ringing.

Missed Calls: Aaron (8)

New Messages: Aaron (5)

Cancelling the latest notifications, I broke one of my longest-standing rules and switched my phone to silent. Since uni, I'd had a fear of missing a call from a friend in need during the middle of the night, so my mobile remained on vibrate even in bed.

As I reached to place the phone back onto my bedside table, the screen lit up again. Patience already thin, I answered.

"Will you knock it off?" I snapped at Aaron. "I told you to stop calling me. Go find some other girl to hassle."

"I'm with Ed." The words rushed out in a panic, and my initial irritation mellowed into concern.

"Is he okay?" I asked.

"Yes, he's fine. Just drunk—"

"Has he done something stupid? Illegal? Dangerous?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Then he's not my problem," I said. "Call Jeremy Evans if you need a hand. He's in charge tonight."

Just as I moved the phone away from my ear to cut him off, I heard Ed's very slurred voice in the background.

"Tell her favour. She then has to help. It's our thing."

For fuck's sake.

This was Mark's fault. If he hadn't undermined the power of the Favour Agreement earlier, Ed wouldn't be calling on it now for something so trivial.

"Sorry, Soph. He's not making any sense. Something about you owing him a favour?"

My spare hand clenching the covers, I pinched my eyes shut and counted to five. Ed hardly ever drank, so no doubt that had contributed to his current state of intoxication. Whatever the reason, I did not want to spend my Friday night babysitting him.

Unfortunately, though, I had no choice. He'd called Favour, and that was our agreement.

"Fine." I forced it out through gritted teeth and swung my legs over the side of the bed. "Can one of your guys give him a lift?"

"Yes, no problem. Thank you—"

I cut him off. If Aaron had blabbed to Ed out of spite for me ghosting him, I needed to pre-empt that conversation. Unless he was too drunk to remember it. But either way, he had to hear it from me first.

I slipped on a dress and jacket, then headed out through the front entrance so it looked like I was leaving for a night on the town. If I sneaked out in my pyjamas, it would be obvious what I was up to. Given that I'd already suffered through one interrogation today, I wanted to avoid another.

A black Range Rover pulled into the alley ten minutes later, and Ed was hauled out of the back by Aaron.

Fuck. It was worse than I thought: he could barely stand. With his eyes closed and legs like jelly, he slumped against Aaron—one arm slung over his friend's shoulder and the other dangling by his side.

"See why I needed help?" I didn't miss the hostile edge to Aaron's voice. "If you'd picked up earlier—"

"You've made your point," I said, holding open the side door. "Just help me get him into his room and I'll take over from there."

We dragged him into the lift, Aaron managing to keep him upright while I keyed in all the necessary codes and swiped all the relevant cards.

"Like a fucking fortress," Aaron commented under his breath.

"Clearly your people don't look after you this well, then," I muttered back.

He snorted. "Clearly."

When the lift doors opened in front of the suite, Aaron looked ready to offload him there and then. He propped Ed's tall frame up against the corner of the landing before stepping back into the metal box. His index finger immediately jabbed the ground floor button.

"I don't think so," I said, my left hand darting out to stop the doors closing. "You got him into this mess. You can at least help me get him inside."

Despite the mumbles under his breath, he complied. We lugged Ed into his suite, across the plush carpet, and into the pristine bathroom. I'd thrown up a few times when I used to drink, but I'd never been fortunate enough to do it somewhere as beautiful as this.  

"So, do I get a tip or what?" he asked after he'd settled Ed onto the marble floor by the toilet.

I raised an eyebrow and set my hands on my hips. "Short on funds? Not had many auditions recently or something?"

Chuckling, Aaron folded his arms. "You've got a sharp tongue, Sophia. I much preferred it inside my mouth. Put to good use, you know?"

My stomach tightened, nails biting into my hipbones. Aaron Holland had kissed hundreds of girls, both on- and off-screen. Nothing but his bruised ego gave him reason to hound me about one mediocre, underwhelming kiss that happened over two months ago.

"Have you told him?" I asked, jerking my head towards Ed's drooped figure.

"Nope." Aaron flashed me a smile. "Our little secret."

As I opened my mouth to reply, the sound of retching followed by liquid hitting water interrupted me.

"On that note..." Aaron unfolded his arms to curl both fists into a condescending thumbs-up. "Try not to let him die."

*

I sat next to Ed in the bathroom for what felt like hours, regularly passing him a bottle of water to sip. The more he vomited, the more he sobered up, until I eventually managed to extract a coherent sentence from him.

"I promise I didn't do anything bad." His voice hoarse, he squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his throat.

I handed him the bottle again and waited for him to swallow before taking it back.

"Where did you go? Would anyone have seen you?" I asked.

Not that being drunk was a crime, but Teddy Stone's family-friendly brand wouldn't benefit from stories around binge-drinking, and we had enough on our plate at the moment.

"Escala. Should be fine."

I nodded, running my thumb across the ridged bottle lid. At least he'd got drunk somewhere sensible. He'd only been burned once in that exclusive club, and that was via me.

"You shouldn't have to see me like this. I'm sorry."

With his arm propped up on the ceramic toilet edge, he buried his face in his hand. If he wasn't so vulnerable, I'd have taken the piss to placate him. Teddy Stone: perfect at everything apart from handling alcohol.

But we were far beyond that, and despite my concerns from a PR perspective, I sympathised with him.

"We've all been there," I said. "Before I stopped drinking, I became very familiar with the inside of a toilet bowl."

His lips twisted into an appreciative smile as he tipped his head in my direction. "That's not what I meant."

"I know. But you called Favour, and we have a deal. Although..." I stretched out my legs in front of me and crossed one ankle over the other. "Just so I know, is this going to become a regular thing? You going AWOL and me helping you out with it? Because, if so, I need a heads up. Before it happens, preferably."

He lurched towards the toilet again, and I braced myself for another round. It didn't come, and eventually he shuffled backwards to lean against the opposite wall, closing his eyes.

"It's not a regular thing," he said. "Sorry I dragged you into it. I just panicked. Didn't want Mark and Helen finding out. But it's not fair on you. Not your job."

"Well, it kind of is my job. In a roundabout way. And we have a deal. You know I'd never go back on that."

The edge of his mouth lifted into a dazed half-smile. Definitely still drunk.

"Likewise, Soph."

"So why'd you drink so much tonight? If it's not a regular thing?"

His eyes opened and darted towards me, and he managed to look sheepish even in his dishevelled state.

"Because I can't use one-night stands as a coping strategy. Thought I'd give alcohol a try instead."

I bit my lip, not responding. Neither of us was coping particularly well, despite our various strategies, and yet we'd agreed this was the way it needed to be.

"I wasn't drinking the whole day, though. Only this evening. Just have a poor tolerance apparently."

"What else were you up to, then?" I handed over the water once more and he guzzled several gulps, seeming more aware with every minute that passed.

"I was at Aaron's hotel. Playing cards. Lost a hundred grand but I'm definitely getting better."

A choked squeak of horror tore from my throat, and not from the money he'd lost—that was only a drop in the ocean for someone like him.

"You sure he wasn't hustling you?"

"Nah. I'm just really bad. Besides, he doesn't need the money. You should see how much he gets paid per film. He's richer than me."

"Doesn't need an extra hundred grand, then, does he?"

Ed wrinkled his face, one shoulder bobbing in a nonchalant shrug. "Think he likes takings things from me. Payback for screwing his sister, you know?"

Although he tossed me a quick grin to show he was joking, guilt still rolled through my stomach, churning into a ball of nausea that probably rivalled his own alcohol-induced sickness.

Not for one second did I believe that Aaron Holland had any kind of emotional attachment to me. I'd admitted I used to fantasise about him and then I'd brushed him off after just one kiss, so that had no doubt crushed his over-inflated ego.

I'd used him, thinking that if anyone could help me get over Ed, it would be the previous guy who'd dominated my fantasies. He'd disappointed me on multiple levels that night, and all I felt now whenever I looked at him was guilt and irritation.

Unfortunately I couldn't ease my guilty conscience by confessing to Ed tonight. We needed to have the conversation when he was sober, and it wasn't an easy topic to bring up when we supposedly weren't even friends anymore.

When his stomach felt completely empty, I helped him over to the bed. He insisted he was fine to be left, but I stayed on the sofa, knowing I wouldn't be able to sleep through worry about him choking to death on his own vomit.

As soon as I heard his soft snoring, I pulled out my phone and tapped out a message to Mark. Child, my arse. He needed to know I could be trusted.

Me: Ed is safe. Back in his room sleeping.

Despite it being gone three in the morning, Mark's reply was instant.

Mark: Thanks.

*

The nutty aroma of roasted coffee beans stirred me from my sleep, and I opened my eyes to see a mug sat on the table in front of me, tendrils of steam floating upwards.

Running water echoed from within the bathroom, Ed's bed now empty. As I sat up and stretched my neck, I glanced at the time on my phone.

09:10

Six hours' sleep wasn't too bad for a night on the sofa, but a muzzy grogginess still wrapped itself around my body.

At least the coffee resolved my usual dilemma: sneak out or face the music? I lifted the mug to my lips and blew on the steaming liquid while I checked my phone for messages. I had one from Helen thanking me for giving Mark the heads-up last night. Surprisingly, she hadn't pried for further information. Maybe I'd be lucky enough to get a second interrogation in person next week.

As I flicked through Twitter, I vaguely registered the shower turning off, shortly before Ed strolled out of the bathroom with a towel secured low on his hips. My eyes drifted down, roaming over the tight muscles of his chiselled stomach, then following the prominent V-lines as they disappeared beneath the fluffy fabric.

"Thanks for the coffee," I said, dragging my gaze back up to his face.

"Least I could do after last night."

So he remembered. My eyes stalked him as he pottered around by his bed, opening drawers to pull out clothes.

Then, with no hesitation whatsoever, he dropped his towel.

I was so entranced by the perfection of his naked body that I didn't stop to contemplate why he was putting on a show in front of me. Whatever he'd been thinking about in the shower had got him hard, and heat pulsed between my thighs as I recalled the magic he could do with that dick.

His smouldering eyes met mine as he eased a pair of boxers up his legs, confirming my suspicion that he'd deliberately given me an eyeful.

"How do I compare?" he asked.

A dangerous edge accompanied his question—one I recognised all too well. Only, this time, I couldn't work out where the trap was in order to avoid it.

"What do you mean?"

I asked the question, but I was only part-concentrating on the conversation. My main focus remained on the lower half of him, transfixed by his long legs stepping into a pair of jeans. As he threaded his belt through the metal buckle and tightened it, my mouth dried, and I lost all appetite for my coffee. I set it down on the table in front of me before I risked dropping it.

"My body," Ed replied, taking a few leisurely steps towards me until he stopped within touching distance.

He reached for my hand and placed it against the hard slabs of his abdomen. My fingers instinctively dipped into the deep grooves, gathering the water that had settled there from the shower. Tangs of citrus leaked from his skin, blending with a suffocating heat as it lingered in the air between us.

My fingertips traced the path of his sculpted abs downwards, the smoothness of his muscles giving way to coarse denim as I reached the waistband of his jeans.

When I began to pull the leather strap of his belt free from the buckle, he repeated his question.

"Well? How does my body compare to Aaron's?"

***

Thank you for reading :) xx

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How do you think their conversation will play out in the next chapter? Will Ed react badly or will he pretend not to care?