No, you're not hallucinating...this is actually an update! I'm so sorry its taken too long, as crappy as an excuse at it is, life kind of got in the way as did Christmas etc so 2 months later than promised, here I am!
Now, this chapter isn't exactly action central but it does introduce two WCHB and Intervals characters who God help me, I have sorely missed writing. Part two WILL be up tomorrow night without fail, thank you in the meantime to all those of you wonderful people who have been kind enough to leave reviews and send PM's, I really am sorry I've kept you waiting.
Enjoy and make a gals day and leave a review. :) Love always, El xx
1.07am.
Allie Harding stared at the vintage clock on her bedside table and continued gnawing at her bottom lip just as she had the past four hours since Pete had left her bedroom with the promise of returning later. She had no idea for what or why but she knew it was the reason she had kept on some of her make up instead of washing it off and chosen to sleep in a peachy coloured silk nightgown as opposed to her usual pj's. Just in case, as she had told herself over and over. Just in case Pete came back and they were alone, with the moonlight streaming through the blinds so all he would have to do is lean in and kiss her. Really bloody kiss her. Like a black and white movie, hair grabbing, breath stopping kind of kiss.
Lifting the covers, she glanced down at herself and chuckled quietly, rolling her eyes as she flung her legs off the side of the ginormous bed and upright.
"Ridiculous," she muttered, gesturing to her attire before ambling over to her dresser and reaching for a baby wipe which she promptly used to scrub her face until all traces of makeup were gone and she was left rosy cheeked.
Sighing deeply, she leaned back against the marble table top and cast her eyes to the balcony doors, seeking any sign of a figure in the darkness. Shaking her head and feeling more than a little stupid, Allie turned and headed towards her wardrobe, determined to pull on the fuzziest, frumpiest pyjamas she could find and possibly even going downstairs to retrieve one of the 5 pints of Ben and Jerry's Lara had 'stashed' away in the freezer for monthly emergencies.
Just as she reached her closet, a noise from the balcony made her heart stop; she knew that noise. It was someone climbing the trellises.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" she hissed, rushing back to her bed and trying to work out how to look both alluring and unsuspecting at the same time. How did women in films make it look so god damn easy? Pulling the covers up her thigh and not much further, Allie lowered her head to the pillow, stopping only when a great thud –the unmistakable sound of one of her plants being knocked over- sounded through the room, breaking the peace around her.
Squinting into the distance, she caught sight of the intruder and her jaw dropped along with the covers and all femininity as she gawked openly at her visitor.
"You fuckin' rich people never cease to amaze me. House bigger than my entire fuckin' block of flats and you go leaving doors wide open at 1am. You never know who might come in…"
The figure slurred before taking a step forward and crumpling to the ground, a small bottle of vodka dropping from its thin fingers and rolling towards Allie's bed.
"Be a babe and grab me some orange juice, would ya? My mouth feels like I've eaten nothin' but cotton wool for four days. And skip the fuckin' lecture," the figure lifted a finger in warning. "It ain't nothin' I ain't heard before,"
Allie closed her eyes, forcing herself to remain calm as on queue as always, the figure went limp, falling into a neat heap on her bedroom floor. Hair askew, one shoe off and not to be seen, the sleeping sprite let out a small whistling sound with every breath not budging even when Allie grabbed its feet and began dragging it towards the bed. Hoisting them both onto the mattress, the blonde let out a grunt as she crashed down on top of what may as well have been a corpse, pulling back and raising both eyebrows when she met the all too familiar set of eyes.
"What the fuck are you wearing?" Natalie Dunham snorted, gesturing to Allie's nightgown before her jaw went slack and she passed out again leaving Allie sitting almost astride her in the darkness wondering what the hell she was supposed to do now.
"'Ave you ever seen Billy Elliot?"
Kylie Geller huffed, gritting her teeth as for the tenth time in as many minutes, Pete Dunham inadvertently crashed into the side of her, his feet carrying him in every direction but a straight line.
"No, I ain't," she snapped, digging in her purse for her flat keys. Ok, so this wasn't how she had planned on this scenario panning out; after they had drunk their way through twelve cans of cider in the park, she was certain that he would make a move. But he hadn't. All he had done was ramble on about the most pointless shit she had ever heard in her life.
"We should watch it," Pete told her, leaning forward and tapping her nose drunkenly until she batted his hand away. "It's fuckin' blinding. That little fucker can properly dance."
Rolling her eyes and not willing to get into another film orientated conversation like the one in the park where Pete had spent an hour explaining to her everything historically wrong with Braveheart, Kylie grabbed his hand and pulled him up the steps towards her flat. Turning, she leaned into him, pushing his back against the door across the hall and sending him her best 'come hither' look.
"What if I said I didn't want to watch a film?" she asked him, biting her lip.
"What, you wanna order pizza or somethin' because I'd be down for that," Pete slurred, trying to get his hand into his pocket to check for money but finding it difficult with her draped all over him. "Or PlayStation...please tell me you've got a PS2..."
"Mm-mm," Kylie shook her head, drumming her fingertips on his chest. "What I've got in mind is much more fun,"
"X-Box?" Pete frowned.
"Think more…active," she teased, standing on her tiptoes to get her lips closer to his. "Think less clothing,"
Pete blinked, staring down at this girl who was nothing but acid pink lip gloss, stale perfume and let's face it, probably a few STD's. He had no idea what the hell he was thinking coming here; truth be told he just wanted to be around someone who didn't know him, who didn't know Allie. Someone who could take his mind off everything.
But now as he stared down at Kylie, all he could think about was that if this was Allie with her hands on his chest, looking up into his eyes like that, he would be kissing her senseless right now, he'd be running his hands through his hair, whispering her name against her skin. With Kylie, he didn't even feel the urge. Worse than that, he actually found himself feeling sorry for her.
"I uh…" he laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck before gently removing her arms from around him. "I don't think that's the best idea either of us has ever had,"
"Well why don't you let me have a go at convincing you otherwise?" she licked her lips and pressed her hand against his stomach, letting it slide that little bit lower. "You won't be able to say no once I get my mouth on your-…"
"Sweetheart," Pete shook his head and met her eyes, the sadness in them making her seethe with anger.
The blonde stepped back as though he had slapped her, her mouth setting in a hard line and eyes turning to pure stone as she stared him down.
"You think you're too good for me, is that it?" she barked.
"Nah, nah of course not," Pete held up a finger, hating the fact the hallway was suddenly spinning. "Look, if you want the truth…there's someone…I just ain't looking for someone else,"
Kylie stared at him for a long moment, debating if her manicure was worth ruining for the sake of ripping his eyes out when suddenly it hit her and she found herself laughing mirthlessly.
"Hang about," she jutted her hip to one side. "You're telling me you came at me for some rebound action and now we're back here at my flat with me offering to do whatever the hell you want, you're not game?" she scoffed. "You queer or something?"
"I fuckin' wish," Pete slurred, banging his head back against the door behind him, not particularly thinking about the fact it was way past one in the morning and chances were the occupants were asleep. "I think I'm in love with my best mate,"
Kylie gawked at him, unable to believe that after a whole evening of texting the girls telling them she was going to get to shag Pete Dunham that he was knocking her back mere feet from her bed because he apparently had a heart.
"Bovver?" she spat.
Pete dropped his head down to his chest and let out something resembling a laugh whilst he flipped her the finger.
"Not that blonde bird who's always hanging off you?" Kylie bared her teeth in disgust. "The posh one with tits bigger than her IQ?"
"Hang on a fuckin' second," Pete narrowed his eyes. "Ain't no need for that, is there?"
"So what happened?" Kylie shot at him, ignoring the stern look he sent her way. "She finally realise that slumming it with the East London lot ain't as fun as My Fair Lady made it look and tell you to do one, did she?"
"She ain't like that," Pete snapped, getting more and more annoyed. Granted, he may have led her on but that hadn't been his intention. Kylie Geller was a borderline urban legend around this town, if you hadn't had a go then someone you knew likely had, not to mention she spent most of her youth mugging old people and spaced out of her mind on whatever pills were going in the Abbey that particular evening. She and Allie weren't even in the same stratosphere, let alone league.
"Well if you really think that," she goaded him. "Why are you stood here with me and not off riding into the sunset with her?"
Because she doesn't want me, Pete answered her silently. Because I love her more than anything else in my life and she sees me as her mate. And it's fucking killing me.
"Look," Pete pinched the bridge of his nose and hiccupped, grimacing at the taste and trying to recall when it was he had drunk Sambuca. "I know this situation ain't ideal for either of us but is there any chance I could crash on your sofa? I'll be gone before you get up in the morning,"
"Why don't you sleep in my bed?" she sent him that same grin again and he tried to smile back.
"Sofa's fine," he told her, trying to be gentle.
"Right, so we're not going to fuck then?" she asked pointedly.
"It don't look like it, nah," Pete shrugged, not bothering with pleasantries if she wasn't going to either.
"Arrogant prick," she snarled, reaching out and shoving his shoulder as hard as she could.
"You don't want to do that again," Pete warned her, holding up a finger. "Really…for both our sakes," he gulped. "Don't shove me,"
"Why?" Kylie cocked her head, painting a puppy like expression on her overly made up features. "Awww, poor little Petey. Didn't realise you were so fuckin' delicate. Are you sure it's another girl? I'm starting to get the impression maybe you just can't get it up,"
She shoved him hard again and his head smacked against the door, creating a louder crack than it had done previously. Pete's eyes widened as time around him seemed to slow completely, too many things occurring at once.
"What the fuck is goin' on out here?"
The voice boomed from behind him at the very same moment Kylie let out an ear piercing scream, not that Pete could see anything as he found himself falling backwards into the now open doorway, the light above him piercing his retinas and creating a blur around the two figures above him.
"You fucking bastard!" Kylie cried, her hands up in front of her face, shaking uncontrollably as she stared down in horror at the layer of vomit coating her jeans. "You know what? Get fucked. I ain't that desperate. My mate slept with your brother and if the gene pool is anything to go by, it'll be the size of my fuckin' pinkie finger anyway,"
Kylie scowled at him once more, turning on her heel and shouting "fucking queer" under her breath one last time before she yanked her own front door open and slammed it hard enough for Pete to feel the floor vibrate under his head.
Remembering where he was, he squinted up into the light and swallowed hard; whoever's doorway he was in was bound to be more than a little pissed off and if it came down to it, there was no way Pete would be able to square up against the bloke. He doubted he'd be able to wipe his own arse right at this second.
Opening his mouth and preparing to fire out the first of many apologies, Pete stopped when he heard the unmistakable sound of laughter coming from above him.
"Fuck me," the figure shook its head. "I've seen some shit in my time, but I've never seen a fella chunder his dinner up over a girl and shoot her down at the same time,"
Pete smirked, shaking his head and covering his eyes with his arm, unable to believe what had just happened. The boys would have a field day with this.
"I've 'ad better nights," he mumbled. "And I'll pay you for your carpet cleaning or whatever,"
"Wouldn't worry," the voice answered, the smirk still evident in it. "Ole' Zsa Zsa Gabour across the hallway took the brunt of it. You probably did her a favour…seeing most of the guys she brings back to that flat on a nightly basis, I'd say she's in dire need of a shower,"
Pete laughed harder ignoring the throbbing pain in the back of his head as he did so. Forcing himself into a sitting position, he opened his eyes slowly, jumping when he came face to face with a dark haired man, his eyes a piercing blue, slightly lighter than his own. His mouth was curled up into a genuine smirk, the Stone Roses t-shirt he was wearing letting Pete know if nothing else, he was in decent company.
"Benjamin," the man stuck his hand out, allowing Pete to shake it. "I'm guessing you have a name other than 'pinkie dick'?"
"Pete," he laughed heartily. "Dunham,"
"Yeeeeeah, I'm going to have to stick with pinkie dick," Benjamin deadpanned, grasping the blonde's hand and yanking him to his feet. "And to think people give us Scots shit about our life choices." He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "I thought London was going to be all sophisticated coffee houses and indie bands."
Pete grinned back at him, for some unknown reason already liking the guy; his flat unlike the rest of the building seemed clean cut, very metropolitan, the kind of place Allie would have a field day with.
"I'm really sorry, mate," he laughed. "Trust me to be the one to break the illusion of London's magic,"
"It had to happen sooner or later," Benjamin chuckled, shoving Pete back into the flat and closing the door, ignoring the other man's questioning gaze. "Look, you need somewhere to sleep and I have Chinese food in the kitchen and I'm mid-way through a FIFA tournament on the PS2 so you can either stand there in your own vomit or you can grab a beer and join me. I'm Chelsea so if you're not…"
"I'm a Hammers man," Pete shook his head, returning the Scots' look of disgust. "And just for that, I'd rather sleep on the fuckin' street,"
"Aye, watch it now, Pinkie Dick," Benjamin laughed, leading him to the kitchen and handing him a carton of noodles along with a beer. "You've just narrowly escaped death by chlamydia, you don't really want to spoil that victory by getting shanked with a chopstick by a Scotsman, do you?"
"Fuck off," Pete laughed, digging into the noodles with gusto. "Aw mate, you're a fuckin' hero for this."
"That I am, brother, that I am," he winked, walking down the hallway towards the living room and gesturing for Pete to follow. "Now how's about a little story time while I kick your sorry arse, because personally, I am dying to know the backstory behind the train wreck that is apparently your love life…"
"Fuck me," Pete called after him. "You sure?"
"Absolutely, brother," Benjamin laughed. "How bad can it be?"
"May God have mercy on your soul," Benjamin whistled, staring down at the photo Pete had handed him. It had taken nearly two hours of FIFA and some dicey re-heated shredded duck before they had finally sat down and begun talking. The move from Edinburgh had brought with it a lot of worries for him, he'd left his friends, his family and the joy of deep friend mars bars to come to university in London but for someone so outgoing, he'd felt strangely alone since he arrived.
Truth be told, Pete Dunham was the first person he'd actually felt a connection with; maybe it was just their age or the same obsession with the beautiful game and inability to hold their beer but they were kindred spirits.
Right down to their taste in women because the blonde staring back at him was probably the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen.
"Fuckin' tell me about it," Pete shook his head, draining the last of his beer and throwing it to one side before reaching for another. "Try growing up with that around you,"
"Puberty is a wonderful thing, Petey pie," Benjamin breathed, handing the photo back to him and leaning back against the sofa where they sat on the floor. "So clarify for me again why you haven't made a move?"
"I did," Pete muttered. "I told you,"
"No, you told me you almost, kind of, nearly went in for some lip action," the dark haired man frowned. "That's fuckin' miles away from making a move,"
"Well what would you have done?" Pete burst out, exasperatedly.
"To her?" Benjamin pointed at the photo on Pete's lap. "Things I'm not certain are legal,"
The blonde shook his head and flipped him off, reaching for another spring roll and crunching down on it noisily.
"She doesn't see me that way," he shrugged, trying to play it as though it wasn't crushing his insides to say the words out loud. "I heard her say it,"
"And you're sure about that?" Benjamin narrowed his eyes.
"She didn't know I was there," he sighed, rubbing the back of his head tiredly. "So she wasn't exactly sugar coating it,"
Pete threw his head back, staring up at the ceiling and taking a deep breath; he knew how pathetic this all was. They'd been friends for years and for whatever reason out of the blue, a few months ago something had changed. It wasn't that he'd suddenly noticed how beautiful she was, he'd always known that. It was that suddenly he couldn't go a day without seeing her, her touch started doing different things to him, he wanted to be around her all the time, to hear her stories, to listen to her rant about some article she'd read in Vogue. Anything. As long as he was with her.
"What was the moment?"
Benjamin's voice jerked him back to reality and he lifted his head, meeting the man's steady gaze and frowning in confusion.
"There's always a moment, Petey," he smiled. "When you knew…"
Pete blinked, knowing exactly what he was referring to and more worryingly, knowing exactly which moment he was talking about.
"Her thirteenth birthday party…she had a joint party with her best mate," he smirked. "Lara loves 'er swanky parties and shit but Allie….she's never been about that. And true to form, Lara throws this fuckin' massive shindig. Hired some manor house outside of the city, at least 100 kids at this thing all in fuckin' black tie." He laughed, remembering how ridiculous they had all felt, him, Bovver, Dave and Swill crammed into the back of Steve's ford cabriolet in their tuxes. "And its shit; when you're 13 all you want is some domino's pizza, some legend to rock up with a bottle of their dad's best vodka and maybe some tunes. Anyway, Allie walks in in this…fuckin' dress."
He smiled to himself, remembering how nervous she had been about wearing it given her body had advanced slightly more than some of the other girls. "And she looked amazing. Like nothin' I'd ever seen. And midway through the night she comes over and grabs me, begs me to go outside, she's goin' mad in this place. Everyone's bored as fuck and she's 'ad enough." He laughed. "So I followed 'er and we walked the whole way around this place, fuckin' miles. And we come across this swimming pool, cordoned off and just beggin' for it,"
Benjamin laughed, catching the glow in his newfound friends' eyes and feeling almost envious that someone could be so in love.
"She kicks 'er shoes off and just jumps in. Doesn't give a shit about her hair or her makeup, just dives in. And of course I fuckin' end up in there with her about a second later when she swims to the edge and grabs my foot. Now 'er birthday might be in June but this water was fuckin' arctic. I mean I screamed like a right little bitch when I went in. But we must've spent an hour in it, pissing about and looking up at the sky. Until one of the guards starts running up, shouting at us to get out, so I grab her and get out and start running. Scared shitless, we end up hiding in a fuckin' woodshed, both of us on the verge of getting hypothermia and dyin' but I couldn't give a shit. Because she's sat there with this blanket around 'er, head against my shoulder while we yap on about everything and anything and there's this moment where in the middle of talking, she reaches out and pulls some a leaf or some shit out of my hair and I honest to fuck thought my heart stopped." Pete shook his head. "She was looking at me, only light in the whole fuckin' place comin' from some poxy lantern we'd found but I could see 'er. I could see every little fleck of gold in 'er eyes and I knew in that one fuckin' second." He breathed.
"I was in love with 'er,"
Benjamin let out a long, deep breath and leaned forward, shaking his head gently.
"You, brother, are well and truly fucked," he pointed at him, laughing when the blonde dropped his head into his hands and groaned.
"Mate, I know," Pete half laughed, half sobbed. "But what the fuck do I do about it?"
Holding up a finger, Benjamin stumbled to his feet, grabbing his as of yet unopened bottle of scotch from the mantle and holding it up like a trophy.
"What we do, Petey pie, is we drink," he grinned, uncapping it and pouring a tumbler half full before handing it to Pete who eyed it warily. "To loneliness and narrowly escaping herpes," he cheered.
"I've 'ad worse reasons to drink," Pete toasted him, taking a huge gulp and feeling the amber liquid set a slow fire to his throat as it travelled down to his gut.
Shuddering at the bitterness, he leaned back, frowning when his phone began buzzing once more in his back pocket. He had been ignoring it all night, knowing damn well it was Bovver trying to get him down the Abbey, or worse it was Steve.
Groaning loudly when he noted the name on the screen was that of the latter, Pete knocked back the rest of the whiskey and flipped the phone open, bracing himself for the onslaught.
Benjamin watched the blonde as he rolled his eyes and mouthed 'brother' to him before lifting his hand and making a yapping motion; remembering what a pain in the arse Chris could be, Benjamin laughed and nodded. It was just as he was reaching down to refill Pete's glass that he saw the young man's face change completely, his eyes taking on a clarity that had been absent at least the last two hours.
Pete swallowed hard, looking up at Benjamin as he closed the phone and clambered to his feet.
"You ok, brother?" Benjamin frowned.
"Fancy getting a cab and coming on a cheeky joy ride with me?" he gritted his teeth, his stomach torn between worry and fury.
"Whatever you need," the Scot nodded, trying not to think about the fact it was going on 4am and his body was craving sleep.
"Good lad," Pete clapped him on the shoulder as they made their way towards the door. "I owe ya,"
"This have something to do with your lady?" Benjamin quipped, trying to break the newfound tension.
"Not exactly," Pete snorted. "Wrong girl."
He yanked the front door open and stepped out into the foyer, grimacing as the stench of what he knew was his own vomit hit him and he made a mental note to send Kylie some flowers or at least £20.00 to cover her dry cleaning bill. Stepping out into the chilly night air, he chatted idly with Benjamin, both of them keeping an eye out for any taxi's that drove past though none of them seemed keen to stop, his hands shaking as he shoved them into his pockets for warmth and the words 'Natalie is missing' still echoing through his brain.
TBC in 24 hours...