'Something's wrong. We shouldn't still be here.'
He was going to have a panic attack, he just knew it. He'd been having those more often lately, particularly when he was sober. Hell, he knew the drugs and drink were probably the cause of it, but they stopped him having them too. And he'd rather be a drunk than a shaking, pathetic mess who was going to end up pissing himself in front of someone the next time he had an attack. The dull ache in his bladder increased as soon as he thought about taking a piss.
'God I need to pee,' he groaned.
'Don't let me stop you. I won't look, promise.' Except she said pwomise and twirled a long curled lock around her finger.
'I'm not worried about that,' he said, staring at her and wondering why the hell she thought that little girl routine was seductive. 'It's just pretty disgusting having to urinate in a lift when we don't know now long we'll be in here.'
'Well what's the alternative?'
There wasn't one.
He stood up and shuffled over to the corner opposite the control panel, aware of how loud his zipper sounded and even worse, how loud his piss sounded as it hit the floor in a heavy stream. But it felt good, really fucking good despite the strong smell of urine that made his nose wrinkle up.
Kyle whirled around, splashing piss on his shoes in the process and cursing hard as he desperately tried to zip up his jeans. 'Did you just take a fucking picture of me?' he gasped as the girl gazed back at him, her eyelashes fluttering innocently and that stupid bloody grin on her face.
'What? No of course not.'
'Give me your phone.'
'I didn't take your picture,' she said, the smile now wavering a little. 'Why would I do that?'
'I don't know,' snapped Kyle. 'Maybe you want to show Becka or plaster it all over twitter or Face-fucking-book? You think I don't know how many followers that will earn you? How people will want to know all about the girl stuck in a lift with Kyle Donovan?'
He towered over her, his fists clenched and head pounding. She didn't shrink away from him but her eyes filled immediately and a solitary tear slid down her blush-stained cheek.
'I wouldn't do that,' she said again and shook her head. The tear dropped to her chest and slid down her left breast. 'I wouldn't. I hate the fans who do stuff like that. I wasn't taking your picture, the casing has cracked, see?' She brandished the phone at him, showing where the plastic cover had indeed cracked and she pulled it open, before snapping it back into place with an audible click.
It could have been the broken casing. Maybe.
Kyle run a shaky hand through his long hair and concentrated on exhaling slowly and deeply as he looked down at the girl's tear-stained face. Crouching in front of her, he patted her on the knee, feeling a stab of guilt for accusing her.
'Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. Come on, stop okay?' He pulled out a tissue from his shirt pocket, he always carried one for the nose bleeds but luckily this one was clean. He hadn't cut a line yet today. And wasn't going to get the chance at this rate.
The girl took the tissue and her fingers touched his as she did so. Kyle briefly thought about screwing her, hammering her against the lift wall as he watched that tramp-stamp jiggle on her butt but then he remembered the click and he backed away, sliding himself over to his side of the lift again.
If she was disappointed, she didn't show it.
'You're so wonderful,' she sighed wistfully, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.
She held the tissue tightly in the other.
YOU ARE READING
Things have changed since Kyle Donovan was a kid. When you happen to be a famous rockstar, what you ate for breakfast has already been broadcast to the world before you've even had a chance to digest it. The hashtag gangs own Twitter and the fans h...