Somebody to Like

16 - Stanned Out

**Gray**

It was official. I was baffled. Befuddled. Flummoxed. Perplexed. Really fucking confused was what I was. How the fuck had I not noticed Amelie at Lucy and Bas's wedding? If I'd had a time machine, probably a DeLorean since it was easier to program than a Bill and Ted phone box or the TARDIS, I'd have gone back in time and slapped myself.

It was a conundrum that had me wishing that my focus hadn't been quite so singularly on Kim for all those months. Sure upon occasion I'd dipped my toe into the near constant seething pool pf groupies but nowhere near as frequently as my bandmates, friends and even social media would have had you believe. It's quite amazing how many women can turn a smile and conversation into a tale of frenzied bonking on social media. If I'd shagged as many women as had claimed they'd shagged me I'd have been in a constant state of dehydration and in need of vitamin supplements.

Ordinarily my slut-like reputation was something I chose to ignore, unlike Ace and Josh who positively revelled in the implication that they had Bond-like prowess. However the situation was now a little different. Rather than being one of those random ideas that people have when they're drunk that are rapidly forgotten about, Kim and Lucy's idea to set Amelie up with the 'love of her life' – Kim's words not mine – had firmly taken root. They'd kindly, but firmly, advised Josh, Ace and me that as much as they loved and respected us we were considered non-starters. Our love 'em and leave 'em reputations preceded us.

When I asked Kim why, if I was so ineligible, she'd set me up with her sister her blunt reply was, "Her last boyfriend was Tricky Williams. Anyone's better than that." If I hadn't known she was joking – at least I sincerely hoped she was – I'd have been offended. I tried to tell her my ineligibility aside, Amelie didn't want a boyfriend. She scoffed, "No one ever wants a boyfriend or a girlfriend Gray, that would just make us insecure saddos, but I've never heard anyone complain when the right one comes along."

Van's reasoning when Ace and Josh objected loudly about 'his woman's' high handed ways made more sense. Van had pointed out that unless you were all in, starting up something up with someone you'd be in regular close contact with was a bad idea. If things went to shit you'd be stuck seeing that person on an almost daily basis. In other words – don't screw the crew. He had a point. I was enjoying getting to know Amelie but was I all in? Not even close. But if I'd pulled my head out of my own arse enough to notice her at the wedding I could have enjoyed getting to know her better with no more commitment than an idea of maybe.

Still the fact that I understood the reason I was better off not getting involved with her didn't mean I didn't think about her to an almost unhealthy degree. The image of her emerging from the water like Venus in see through lace was emblazoned on my mind. I'd felt like an overbred pug. Panting, wheezing and with eyes in danger of popping out of their sockets. Nor was I able to forgo our early morning chats.

Which was where I was now. Making an obnoxiously loud rustling outside her bunk. Josh and Ace typically slept like the dead and I could have dropped a boot on their heads and they'd have slept on but Amelie was an early riser. Like me. Early training had taught me that I was capable of combining late nights with early mornings. Following my dreams had always involved a combination of late nights and early mornings. My road to being a guitarist in a hard rock band was unconventional to say the least and although I might look the part I didn't exactly fit the stereotypes.

Although I'd done a bang up job of living up to the arrogant egomaniac stereotype when I'd first met Amelie. Sometimes my confidence took on a mind of its own. This wasn't always a bad thing, at least most of the time I had the confidence to go after what I wanted.

And what I wanted was to spend time with Amelie, so each morning when we'd slept on the bus I was awake, listening for any sounds of wakefulness that came from behind her curtain. A sniffle and a faint cough was my cue to tap softly on the side of her bunk before easing the curtain back. "Coming in. Shove over."