“You walking home?” he asked. Karla and Lee had already started to leave. I felt trapped.

“Yes.”

“Let me walk you.”

I shook my head. “That’s not necessary.”

His gaze sharpened. “I want to.”

“Trev, are you coming, or what?” Lee called from a little way down the street.

“Nah, I’m walking Reya home. I’ll see you back at the house.”

Lee nodded and Karla sent me yet another apologetic look. She knew I wouldn’t want this. What she didn’t know was that a part of me did. An idiotic, masochistic part of me.

“Okay, but it’s not far,” I said and started walking. Trev fell into stride next to me.

“You still living in the same flat as before?”

“Yep.”

“But you always hated it there,” he said, studying my profile.

I stared straight ahead and let out a joyless laugh. “Yeah well, sometimes we have to take what we can get.” I paused to shoot him a wry look. “Not everyone has TV money.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He swore under his breath. “Christ, I’m fucking this all up. I’m just trying to get a fix on what your life’s like now. Karla won’t tell me anything when it comes to you.”

I was relieved to hear that, but then again, she was one of the people in my life I trusted. “Maybe that’s because there isn’t much to tell. A lot might’ve happened for you in two years, Trev, but that’s not the case for most of us. My life is pretty much the same as it was before, with just a few small adjustments here and there.”

“Such as?” he probed and I started to grow uncomfortable with how closely he regarded me. It felt like I was under a microscope.

“Well, like I said, I don’t really busk anymore. I prefer to play the clubs, less arseholes shouting insults and all that. I discovered that I’m allergic to strawberries, so I don’t eat those anymore. Oh, and I switched my phone service provider from BT to Three. So, you know, I’m basically a whole other person now.”

The edges of Trev’s mouth curved in a smile. “You’re fooling no one, Reya Cabrera. I bet you’ve had a lot more exciting things happen, you just don’t want to tell me, and that’s fair enough. You don’t trust me. How things ended between us . . . I hate myself for it every day.”

I eyed him suspiciously, because I found it a little hard to believe that. If he hated it all so much then why hadn’t he tried to make amends in the two years we’d been apart?

“Look, let’s not get into that,” I said, dismissive.

“I want to apologise.”

“There’s really no need.”

“I said I want to, Reya.”

“Trev, you really don’t have to. Please. It’s in the past. We’ve both moved on with our lives. I don’t eat strawberries anymore, and you, well, you—”

“I,” Trev started, “am in therapy like I should’ve been years ago.”

I stopped walking and turned to face him. “You are?”

He exhaled heavily. “I am.”

“How long?”

He started counting fingers. “Six months, give or take.”

I blew out a breath. “Wow.”

His expression intensified. “It’s been . . . a learning curve.”

I nodded and stared at him, my mind wandering. Two years ago, he’d confessed to me that he had ADHD and that he was going to start treatment. It had gone undiagnosed for years. My heart hurt for him at the time, and I remembered the feeling. Starting treatment didn’t exactly pan out like he’d planned, but I couldn’t blame him. He’d been handed way too many things at once, and sometimes adults could be spoiled just the same as children.

Trev’s gaze wandered from my eyes, down my nose to rest on my lips. Cold air kissed my neck and I shivered, though more from the way he was looking at me. Suddenly, I was transported back to another time when he’d looked at me that way . . .

Two.

Past.

I was drunk.

That’s what happened when there was free booze doing the rounds. I was at a party to celebrate Trev’s TV show getting the green light, and had just taken a step outside to get some air. I could barely get a moment alone with my friend . . . boyfriend? I still wasn’t too sure what exactly was going on with us.

It wasn’t like we had any time to talk, I thought bitterly.

Ever since he received that phone call a few days ago he’d been swept up in an impenetrable whirlwind. He had to cancel our lunch plans, and this party was the first time I clapped eyes on him since. Friends and industry people surrounded him, so I decided I’d entertain myself. Things would calm down soon enough.

I hoped.

I stood by a wall in the busy smoking area just as a voice whispered from behind. “Fuck, I missed you.”

Familiar arms wrapped around me and I turned to stare up at him. “Who died and made you Justin Bieber?” He chuckled as I went on, “And I missed you, too, by the way.”

Trev smirked and it did something to my downstairs. “You’re drunk.”

“That’s what happens when all I’ve got is Prosecco to keep me company,” I said and fiddled with his collar. “Everyone wants a piece of you.” I pouted. Pouting is not something I’d be seen dead doing if I weren’t intoxicated, just FYI.

“It’ll cool off,” Trev murmured as he backed me up into the wall.

I lifted a brow. “Will it though?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it?”

“You don’t see yourself like I do,” I said. “Once you’re on TV, other people are going to see it, too. You’re going to become hugely famous, Trev. It’ll be even worse.”

“It won’t. I’ll make sure of it,” he said firmly.

I wanted to believe him, really, I did. But the feverish excitement in his eyes said otherwise. He loved this, loved the attention. Being the belle of the ball was what Trev lived for, and I couldn’t tell if it was a symptom of his condition or just a part of his personality.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he whispered as his hands drifted down to cup my arse. His voice was still low as he went on. “I’m going to fuck you so hard.”