A/N: Definition of Kompromat: documents, photos etc., that may be damaging to a person's reputation, kept as a tool for blackmail. From Russian, short for komprometiruyushchiy material (compromising material).

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My ex-flatmate, Mac, had done significantly better than me since graduating, if the extortionate fees that his law firm charged were anything to go by. He still seemed as grounded as ever, though. In the same message, he'd given me details of friends at other firms who charged different amounts, so clearly he acknowledged that his own prices were at the higher end of the scale.

Reaching out to Mac sparked a longer conversation about what we'd both been up to over the past five years, and while it was nice to catch up with him, it reminded me how lonely I'd been after parting ways with Becca.

Gabby and I regularly spoke, but we now lived miles apart. Meeting up had become a less frequent occurrence that needed to be planned around her shifts, train times, and midpoint locations. At least she wasn't stuck between her two friends anymore, and that was the most important thing.

On Monday morning, a loud rap at the door interrupted my blog brainstorming session. With the rest of the house out, I trundled downstairs to answer it, expecting the postman with yet another ASOS delivery for Faye.

Instead, I was greeted by a familiar face wearing a scruffy black hoodie, baggy grey joggers, and a navy baseball cap.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I grabbed Ed's wrist and yanked him inside, my eyes darting down the street for any onlookers. "I do not want photographers and journalists stalking this house."

"Relax," he said, taking off the hat and curling it into his hoodie pocket. "I wasn't followed, and I'm in disguise."

I scoffed, my eyes travelling over his body as I folded my arms and leaned back against the door.

"Yeah. Barely recognisable."

"I come in peace, Soph. Can we talk?"

He didn't seem as tightly wound as at the weekend, so I gestured towards the sofas. Now that I had a lawyer on my side, I didn't feel quite as cornered, but I still couldn't ignore the fact that I was effectively being blackmailed into a job.

"What do you want?" I asked. "If you've come to apply pressure—"

"I haven't," he said, sinking into one of the sofas then leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees as he stared at me. "Opposite, actually."

"You're giving me a way out?" I raised an eyebrow at him to emphasise how that would be the only opposite option.

He lifted one shoulder to shrug. "I was exhausted after the concert. I wasn't in the right state of mind to have that conversation. It was the first time I'd seen you since, well, you know... Emotions got the better of me."

"I get it. It was supposed to be Helen strong-arming me. Not you."

"Well, yeah..." The corner of his mouth tugged into an adorable smile, and I immediately chastised myself for still finding him endearing.

I rolled my right wrist to gesture for him to continue and get to the point.

"I never said thank you for coming. It probably now seems like we had an ulterior motive for inviting you, but you weren't to know that at the time, and you came anyway, even though I didn't reply to your messages or wish you happy birthday or, basically, say a single word to you in six weeks..."

Sighing, he briefly closed his eyes and bowed his head, the muscles in the back of his neck straining. A ball tightened in my stomach at his honesty and awareness, his acknowledgement that he'd intentionally avoided speaking to me.

Not wanting to say anything that would derail him, I reached for my tea—barely lukewarm thanks to his impromptu visit distracting me—and cradled the mug.

Eventually, Ed looked up at me, his eyes raw with anguish. "You really hurt me, Soph. I know I wasn't blameless, but it still hurt. I tried to shut that off so I could speak to you about the job, but seeing you for the first time in six weeks... Seeing you in the front row, among the crowd, knowing how difficult that must have been for you... It threw me off. And I overcompensated by being hostile, just to disguise how I actually felt."

Despite the vulnerable expression he wore, the soft and pained edge to his voice, and the submissive body language, I still couldn't help fearing this was a different tactic to get me on board with the job offer.

I wanted to believe he was genuine—everything about him looked genuine—but even if he was, that didn't mean there wasn't an ulterior motive at play, too. I'd been burned before. I wouldn't be taken for a fool twice.

Just as I opened my mouth to call him out on it, Ed reached into his hoodie pocket again. He dropped a memory stick onto the coffee table between us.

"What's that?" I asked, my eyes flickering down to it.

"Kompromat."

Heat crawled up my skin as anger simmered within me. Nails biting into my mug, I scoffed and shook my head.

"Don't worry. A potential lawsuit is more than enough incentive—"

"It's not material on you," he said. "It's on me. And Lacey."

My stomach cartwheeled as I recoiled. "Material on you and Lacey? What kind of material?"

He shrugged. "Compromising. Very compromising. Lacey and I made it a while ago, so that if our relationship ever went south, neither of us could retaliate. And it's the reason both of our management teams hate it when we have contact with each other, whether that's sex, grabbing lunch together, or just flirting over social media."

I swallowed, my gaze dropping down to the memory stick. "Is it bad?"

"Let's just say... If the stuff on this stick got out, it would go viral within seconds. The world would see it, and both of our careers would be over."

"So why are you telling me about it? Surely I'm the last person you'd trust."

Sighing, Ed nudged the memory stick towards me, but my hands remained glued to my mug.

"I miss you, Soph." His voice cracked, eyes shining with vulnerability. My heart tightened and a lump formed in my throat. "And I'm scared that we'll never be able to forgive each other or stop resenting each other. I also can't expect to blackmail you into a job and then for everything to be great between us."

He was saying all the right things, but was it real or another trap? Had he been coached again on how to broach the subject with me, or was he flying solo on this one?

Every fibre of my being wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust that our friendship had been real enough for us to pull through this mess together. I'd hurt him, and yet I still wanted to make amends. Why shouldn't he feel the same?

"You came to my concert, and I really want to believe you did it because you care for me," he said. "So, I'm taking the next step. I'm taking a leap of faith and proving that I care for you, too. That I'm willing to trust you. That I'm willing to accept your apology, forgive you for what you did, and move forwards. Because would I do that if I didn't trust you not to distribute this?"

He jerked his head towards the memory stick, and my eyes drifted down to it again. What the hell could be on there? A sex tape? Surely he wasn't so stupid...

But then I thought back to all the things we'd done together on the tour, and suddenly a sex tape didn't seem like such a ridiculous idea, particularly if they were both young and naïve when they made it.

My gaze met his again. "You seriously trust me not to look at this?"

"Whether you look at it is up to you. What I'm saying is that I trust you not to show anyone else unless you absolutely have to."

"Unless I have to?"

His knuckles turned white as his hands tightened around his knees, eyes pinching shut for a fraction of a second before settling on mine again.

"Yes," he said. "If, for example, you feel like you are being blackmailed into a job that you really don't want to take... You could, theoretically, mention that you have Kompromat on Lacey and me. That lawsuit would magically disappear, and you can walk away from the job without worrying about repercussions."

As the weight of his words sunk in, some of the fear clamping my heart eased off. Not fear about the job, but about Ed's motives for coming here today. It sounded like his intentions were pure after all.

"So Helen doesn't know you're here with this?" I asked.

His throat rippled as he swallowed, and his words were hoarse yet sincere when he spoke.

"No. She'd have my balls for it. It goes against everything she's drilled into me, but that's why I'm hoping you'll appreciate the gesture. And maybe it will go some way towards repairing the damage that I'm responsible for, too."

The tick of the living room clock accentuated every second of silence that dragged on between us. It could be another test, but even if it were, this time I would be determined to pass.

Reaching for the memory stick, I flicked my finger against it, and it spun back towards Ed.

"Thanks, but no thanks."

He heaved out a sigh. "I'm trying to help you, Soph."

"I know. And I appreciate it, Ed. Really. But if we're serious about trusting each other, we can't have something like this hanging over us. How will I ever know if things are real when in the back of my mind I'll be worrying that you're just keeping me sweet due to this?"

I pointed at the memory stick. Such a tiny piece of plastic held so much power, like our entire relationship rested on whatever poor decision had led to the contents immortalised within it.

Nodding, he scraped a hand over his jaw. "I get it. The thing is, Soph... This isn't just about friendship. I need you to have a way out of that lawsuit. And this memory stick, it's a way out. If you want to take the job, then that's great. But please only take it if you genuinely want to. Don't do it because you're scared we'll sue you."

As I considered my options, I leaned back into the sofa cushions, not taking my eyes off Ed. I struggled with knowing whether I could trust him, but on the flip side, he wouldn't know whether to trust me, either. And wasn't that the whole point? If we both wanted to return to the friendship we'd once shared—secrets aside—we needed to trust each other.

"Fine," I said. "As long as you don't view this as me having leverage over you. If that's how Helen needs to see it, fine. But you... You need to remember this conversation, and whenever you start to have doubts about whether you can trust me, you need to think about the fact that I didn't want to take this stick. Okay?"

"Okay, but if you really have no intention of using it, don't tell Helen that. She needs to believe you'd be willing to do it, otherwise she'll call your bluff and the lawsuit won't go away."

"Then that can be our first secret. Joint secret. Between you and me." I tossed him a small smile. "But no more lies and no more secrets from each other."

Ed held out a hand, lips quirking. "Deal."

I paused before offering my own. "And, also, this doesn't flick a switch. I'm sure you'll agree that there's still work to be done if we want to repair things properly."

"Agreed. But it's a first step."

"A first step." As I reached to shake his hand, the heat from his long fingers sent a flash of warmth across my skin. Some things would never change.

Our very first encounter after my very first Teddy Stone concert had also ended with a handshake, and that did not escape me.

We'd come full circle, and maybe it truly did represent a fresh start.

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Thank you for reading :) xx

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