"Would you like anything to drink?"

The girl glanced at me and refocused on the pages she had on her lap, which she shuffled too many times.

"Water's fine."

Nodding, my interviewer jumped to her feet and rushed to get a bottle from the small fridge built into the mahogany desk by the window. Her fingers trembled when she gave me the drink.

"Thank you," I said. "And there's no need to be nervous. I'm an ordinary guy."

"Right," the girl said under her breath, blushing. 

"It's true. I'm an ordinary guy who came here to talk about his music. Why don't we start...I believe you didn't tell me your name."

"I'm sorry. It's Linda. So, Jim." She cleared her throat. "Your first album was a success. How do you feel knowing it's still on top of the charts?"

I unscrewed the bottle and took a long sip. "Linda. It's nice to meet you. And to answer your question, humbled. Humbled and grateful. It's heartwarming to know so many people love our songs and keep listening to them."

"You must have answered this question many times, but what inspired the lyrics of your songs?"

"Life in general, I guess. That, and my family and friends," I said, leaning back on the couch.

"No girlfriend of yours?"

"Not in our first album, no."

"Are you working on anything new?"

My gaze traveled across the hotel suite, pausing at the leather upholstery of the armchair where Linda was sitting. Then, I looked at her. The stiffness seemed to have finally disappeared from her posture, and she appeared more relaxed.

"We are. Our second album is in the making."

"When can your fans expect it?"

If I didn't know better, I would've thought the question came straight from Wyatt. Knowing how pushy he was, he could have orchestrated the whole interview.

"We will announce the release date as soon as we have one," I said, hoping Linda would drop the issue. It was hard to talk about something that existed only in our imagination. The clock was ticking, and I knew that we had to hurry better than anyone. I didn't need more pressure.

I gulped down half of my water, waiting for the next question.

"You were named The Hottest Bachelor of the Year by our magazine. I bet your female fans are wondering what kind of girl can win your heart," said Linda. 

"I'm afraid the title isn't quite accurate."

Linda's eyes widened. "How so?"

"I'm in a relationship. The word bachelor doesn't describe me anymore."

Linda lowered her eyes to the pages she was clutching and skimmed through the text on them. Then, she looked at me again. "Are you sure?"

"Sure about what? Me having a girlfriend? Yeah, I'm positive."

"Right. Sorry. So, girlfriend."

"That's right."

Linda continued staring at the papers as if she didn't know how to read the questions she'd prepared.

I sighed. Half an hour passed since I stepped into the luxurious suite. I couldn't meet Ava, whom I hadn't seen in almost a week. All for a poorly prepared interview I doubted anyone would enjoy reading. What a waste of time.

"Do you have any more questions, Linda?"

The curly-haired girl bit her lip. "Not really, but y-yeah, I guess. Tell me about your girlfriend."

"She's a wonderful girl with a bright personality. We're similar in many ways; we're both creative...I'm lucky to have met her."

Linda said nothing. The only reaction I got was an absent-minded nod of her head. 

The next couple of minutes seemed neverending. I toyed with the almost-empty plastic bottle, watching my interviewer, who seemed to find the notes she had way more fascinating than the strange exchange we were having.

I let out a relieved breath when Linda took her phone she'd used to record the conversation.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet me, Jim," she said. Without waiting for my reply or looking at me, Linda sprung to her feet.

"I'll tell them you're ready for the photoshoot."

I nodded. "Okay."

The girl darted out of the room, leaving me alone. I was about to call Ava, but a man with a camera walked into the suite.

"Are you ready, Jim?" the photographer asked.

I didn't know whether he actually cared about my answer, so I did the same thing I was used to doing — I posed and smiled and hoped it didn't look too fake.

***

The guys and I were going to meet the following morning to work on the new song. 

Time wasn't on our side. The upcoming weeks would be filled with rehearsals for our arena show and several events we needed to attend. We had to take advantage of every spare moment we had.

I made my way into the studio and saw Finlay.

"Hey," I said, unzipping my jacket and pushing it off my shoulders.

Fin smiled. "Hey, Jim. How's it going?"

I tossed my jacket onto a chair. "Good. You?"

"Same here."

"And the guys?"

"I'm here, honey," said Nick, who appeared in the room, holding a styrofoam cup full of steaming coffee.

"You could have gotten some for the two of us," I said, nodding toward Nick's drink.

"Fin said he had breakfast already. I didn't know you were here. Want some?"

"It's okay," I said. "Where's Jay?"

Nick took a sip from the cup and grimaced. "Too much sugar, jeez. What was I thinking? And I don't know, man. He's probably sleeping."

"Fucking sleeping? We need to work. Work and be productive. Our schedule is packed. I texted each of you last night. What the hell?" I said, rewarding Nick with a glare despite knowing it wasn't his fault.

Nick rolled his eyes. "Don't yell. What do you want me to do? We went out last night. I called it a night early, but Jay stayed at the club."

"Tell me it wasn't the same club where I was roofied."

Nick shook his head. "We went to a different one, and the cameras did work. I asked just in case, you know? Until we have security—"

"Don't remind me of that shit," I said, leaning against one of the walls and crossing my arms in front of my chest.

Nick looked at me. "Be reasonable, Jim. Whoever Andre will hire will only accompany us when we go out and attend events. Nobody is going to bother you and your girl when you're alone with her."

"I hope Andre keeps his word."

"He seems cool to me," said Finlay, shrugging. 

Not having anything to add, I glanced at the watch on my wrist.

"Maybe we should start without him," said Nick.

I shook my head. "His part is the one we have to work on."

The guys kept quiet. Nick was good at reading my mood, and right now, it was far from being cheerful.

I hadn't been with Ava in days. I read some chapters of her book and called her whenever I could, but she couldn't spend the night at my place and had to substitute for a workmate, doing extra shifts at the bookstore. 

I hoped she didn't take my refusal to take things further with her as a rejection because it wasn't one. We were good. At least that was what I'd been telling myself.

I needed her. I needed her at the end of the day when I was tired. I needed the calm she gave me when she slept next to me. 

I could have been with Ava right now, going for a run along the promenade and having breakfast together in a snug cafe afterward. Instead, I was doing nothing, waiting for the guy who would hopefully turn up at the studio before the time we booked was up. Who was I kidding? Even if Jay came here now, he would be hungover as fuck. 

He would sit on a chair and watch us work. He'd done it three times this week, and I was fed up with it.

"I've had enough."

I pushed off the wall and strolled to the desk. Finlay and Nick watched me rummage in the drawer with their brows bunched up. When I found what I needed, Nick stared at me.

"Hell no, Jim. He's just texted me that he's on his way."

"Awesome. He'd better not put that hungover ass of his on this chair, then," I said, squeezing some superglue onto the upholstery of the chair where Jay liked sitting, or, more accurately, napping while we worked.

"Holy shit, you did it." Nick chuckled. 

The door swung open, but it was Andre who appeared in the doorway.

"Boys, I have some exciting news," our new manager said, slightly breathless. "Damn it, what a morning."

Andre took off his suit jacket and loosened up the knot of his burgundy tie. Wiping the sweat off his forehead, he strolled toward me. Only that it wasn't me he wanted.  

"Andre!" the three of us said in unison, but it was late. Andre slumped into the chair I'd prepared for Jay.

"Fuck," Fin said and burst out laughing. Nick joined him, and despite not wanting to, I couldn't help doing the same.

Andre frowned. "What's going on?"

"Your butt is glued to the chair," I said, wiping at my eyes, still shaking. "I'll buy you a new pair of pants. Man, I'm sorry. It was for Jay."

Andre tried to get up and took the chair with him, which spurred on another round of laughter. So loud it was that we missed the moment Jay walked into the room.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Andre accidentally got your gift," said Nick.

Jay chuckled. "Peachy. Jimmy boy, I have something for you. Have you seen your pretty face on the cover?"

Only now did I notice the magazine in Jay's hands. 

"An interview?" asked Andre. The guy stopped trying to get up. It didn't mean we didn't have to help him save his pants. It was my fault, after all.

"Yeah." I looked at him. "And I'm sorry about your clothes, man."

"It's okay. Give me the magazine after you've taken a look."

Yawning, Jay handed the magazine to me.

It took one glance at the cover for me to feel the blood drain from my face.

I was there, smiling as I sat on the leather couch of the hotel suite.

But under the picture, there were words — the ones I read at least three times.

Jim O'Brien: I'm not ready to settle down. I'm still actively looking for the one.

Here we go again. Poor Jim can't catch a break.

This one is a bit short, but hopefully it was eventful.

Since I most likely won't post tomorrow, I just wanted to wish a very happy 2021 to all of you.

This year has been crazy and complicated for everyone. I genuinely hope 2021 will be much better. That being said, having you with me on the writing journey is what made a big part of 2020 amazing.

I'm grateful for each of you and the love you show my books.

Here's to a very happy new year for all of us!

Love,
Alwyn