Harley appears uncomfortable, but attempts to maintain composed. He is a man of few words: dark, broody, your Charlie-Sheen-in-Ferris-Bueller’s-day-off type.
“I kinda figured that.” He rubs his hand on the back of his neck. “Not my place to comment. I just wanted to go for a drink and maybe pick up a British bird. That’s what Pop told me to call them.”
It was his attempt to break the ice. I make the effort to smile at his gesture, unlike Wesley who continues to stand guarded, ice-cold.
“Maybe I should do the same, huh? Score some British bird that wants to be around me. American women are so over-the-top.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you,” I fire back, angry at his heartless comment. “You go have your fun and I’ll have mine.”
That comment leaves him speechless, baring down his teeth with a clenched jaw. I walk away from them and head to my room, longing for peace and quiet.
The room is dead silent; the kind of silence I longed for. I lay flat on the bed, my stomach against the fancy sheets, and close my eyes. When did my life become this drama-filled soap opera? Like most couples, Wesley and I had a pretty normal relationship. A few fights, only a handful of massive blow-ups but for most of the part—we had gotten along.
Now, it was a giant mess. If the cameras filmed our actual real lives and not the ones we pretend to portray—the fans would go nuts. This is reality. Caught in this messy love triangle with two men who rivaled each other for different reasons.
Boredom found me soon after. I posted some pictures online, replied to the thousands of comments that followed instantly. Pictures from our Victoria Secret show to our tour of London. It’s been a busy couple of days with no end in sight.
Finally, I scroll through my phone and find an old picture of me, Ash, and Logan that Mom sent me recently. It was taken when we were eleven. A school carnival where the three of us were in charge of the cotton-candy stand. Mom snapped Ash with cotton candy all over his head from when me and Logan dared him to put his head inside the machine.
I type a comment beneath the photo, telling everyone how proud I am of these boys winning tonight’s game. I hold onto my smile, remembering this time with happiness. These two boys were my life, and every part of me is terrified that my relationship with Logan would break us if things didn’t work out.
I shut down my Instagram and call Mom. She had texted me yesterday to say she would fly in for a day to watch the game. As much as she would have loved to stay longer, she had a pressing deadline and Tayla back home.
“Hey kid!” There’s a large commotion in the background. I can barely hear her over the sound of Queen blaring through the speakers.
“Where are you, Mom?”
“I can’t hear you, hold on, okay?”
Waiting for the connection to become clearer, there’s a muffled sound then her voice feeds over the speaker again. “Okay I’m back . . . phew.”
“What on Earth are you doing, Mother?”
“We’re out at this pub celebrating the win. I forgot how much I loved pub crawling.”
“When did you ever pub crawl?”
“When I was a loose cannon and didn’t have three kids busting my chops.”
“I’ve never busted your chops.” My smile turns into laughter; my body relaxing on the bed. “Are you with Ash and Logan?”
“Yeah, I think they’re around here somewhere. I lost count of things after the second pint,” she follows with a hiccup.
“And Dad?”
“I think he got tattooed by a Scotsman.”
“Mom, shut up. Dad? The two of you shouldn’t be allowed out.”
“Come join us! We’re in the city.”
I look at the time. It’s only half-past ten and even though I’m exhausted, I wanted a chance to see Logan. Tell him how happy and proud I am of him. Yeah right, your damn kitty is itching to get some.
“You know what Mom? I’ll be there.”
I jot down the pub she was currently at and hang up immediately. I’m still in the same outfit as today but decided to change. I put on a black jumpsuit with long sleeves and a plunging neckline, pairing it with some high-waisted jeans and my knee-high boots. I ditch the coat, and throw on a scarf to keep the cool air away.
I leave the room and spontaneously decide to knock on Poppy’s door.