No Strings Attached

Chapter Ten

 “Probably,” he sighed, giving in and looking out of the window wistfully, “I live a hard life...”

Although the rest of the long drive had tired her out, Shannon couldn’t sleep that night. All of her old life was laid out in the apartment, as she’d basically just got up and left after the incident, and she’d only been back to pick up a few essentials, so she really had loads to sort through.

It was strange, looking back like this. She almost couldn’t remember who she’d been before Nate had reappeared in her life, before she’d gone running to Tori and all of the lies and secrets had fallen apart around them like cobwebs off an old dresser that’s been left to rot in an attic for years and years on end.

Her life had been sterile; looking around quietly, she could see that. She had no pictures here, no ornaments or anything – just candles in fancy dishes, and canvas photographs of woods and forests that had reminded her of home – without reminding her of everyone in her life at home.

There were imitation plants and flowers – but there was no life in this place. It looked like a show home – completely fucking anonymous – and she realised she’d sort of always felt that way anyway. She’d been a good model, fantastic actually, and incredibly successful despite the fact that she’d stayed with her small time agent.

She’d been good, because it never felt any different to her, she’d been playing a role in her own life without really being inside it at all.

Rory’s words might well be true, it probably was emotional torture being around Nate at all right now, but at least she was feeling something.

She’d set her phone to silent when Rory went to bed an hour ago, fearing Tori would call, panicking that she’d never made it there.

But when the phone vibrated against her sleek glass coffee table, she was surprised to hear from her friend. With it being almost four in the morning, she’d imagined her to be tucked up safely.

Evidently, she must have been, as Nate’s name flashed up in the caller display instead.

“How are you?” he asked softly, once she answered.

“I’m uh, I’m okay I think,” she sighed, throwing a blanket over her legs as she curled up on the dark leather couch, her eyes playing across the screen as she watched an old rerun of Walking Dead with the sound turned to mute, “Tired after the drive.”

“Then you should sleep more,” he teased, sounding as though he was making himself comfortable, before his voice came out terse and strained, as though he was holding himself back, “So are you going to tell me about Sebastienne?”

“It sounds like you know already?”

“Well, of course I fucking know,” he grated, “You think Jay’s going to sit about and listen quietly while some psycho threatens my woman? Of course he told me! What I want to know is why you never told me!”

“Two reasons probably,” she drawled, “The first being the fact that it’s none of your business, and the second being – oh yeah, it’s none of your fucking business!”