Unfortunately, the cross-over with Beneaththelandslide hasn't worked out the way we wanted it to, so its been put on hold. We're both pretty bummed about this, but its for the best for both of our stories! Sorry everyone!
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Staring at the dress, I realized that a movie premiere seemed oddly surreal after the past day in London. I'd had a golden epiphany set against an indigo sky, I'd broken down on a shabby stage and then experienced the terror that comes with waking in a strangers' bed and not remembering the night.
And as for the trip back to the studio, well, that had been a dream, equal parts nightmare. It had been terrifying, yet I'd never been happier. Until I woke up on the floor of the studio, cold, alone and very naked.
But rockstardom called for its front-girl, apparently, and Elliot had the band in demand. I was relieved it was a movie premiere that we were needed for - yes I'd have to smile and pretend that we were the perfect group, but at least theatres were dark and there was a chance Nate wouldn't turn up. This was in his best interests, as I had never felt so angry and used. I hadn't hesitated the previous night; I wanted it to happen. I wasn't stupid enough to think all our problems would go away afterwards, but I had felt happy with him, it had been like sleepwalking. For once, we'd been there when we needed each other.
To wake up like that had felt humiliating and reality had me in a chokehold.
There was every chance he'd left because we couldn't be found together like that, and he was being sensible. But there was a nagging suspicion in my head that that wasn't the case - whenever Nate got as caught up in emotion and passion as he had then, being sensible was the last thing on his mind.
I refused to cry, though. Maybe I had used all of my Nate-allocated tears up. Maybe I just didn't know how to react anymore. I would get Elliot's stupid publicity-stunt premiere over and done with for the time being.
In an attempt to distract myself, I was playing You Me At Six from my iPod, focusing on someone else's words, someone else's voice, someone else's relationship. It was a welcome retreat from my own.
My hotel room had a huge vanity table already stocked with cosmetic products that Jessy had deemed 'right for the occasion' and I sat down on the stool with a huff.
"It can be a game of dress-up," I told myself. "I can look classy for one night. It'll be fun."
My reflection was pale and drawn, but I had refused Jessy's offer of her personally styling me. I just wanted to be alone. I didn't even know if Nate was back at the hotel yet, due to the fact that my door was locked and the music was loud enough for me to feel it in the thick carpets.
I set about transforming my tired face into one suitable for a celebrity event. Instead of piling on the smoky eyeshadow I usually went for, I immediately pushed myself out of my comfort zone and used my fingers to blend blue and green on my lids, swiping on dark eyeliner over the top.
It was good to see some colour, it was a clever way to trick people into thinking I was happy.
After forty five minutes, I stopped with the make-up. I'd managed to conceal the dark circles under my eyes and the weary expression had been masked with the professional composure of a celebrity at work. My eyes looked incredible, and I doubted that Jessy herself would have produced a better look.
My hair already fell in waves as opposed to the straight locks I'd had yesterday. Deciding to just leave it, I wondered it anyone would notice that I was attending a classy premiere with only slightly toned down sex-hair. Nate would notice, I realised, feeling my stomach twist in a way that wasn't unpleasant. He knew what it had looked like, afterwards. I smirked in the mirror, fluffing my hair with my fingertips at the roots before spinning around and unzipping the dress bag.
Relieved that Jessy had given up on anything pink and puffy, I smoothed my hands over the soft fabric. It was beautiful, there was no doubting that, the shimmering pale gold skirt sitting on my lap. I slid it over my head carefully, feeling it settle in all the right places.
The dress was floorlength, and had long sleeves that were skin tight along my arms. The neck was high and I couldn't help but feel regal as I arranged my very windswept looking hair around my shoulders. It clung to my skin all the way down my body until my knees, where it flared out gently to the ground.
Grimacing when I realised that the swishy hem meant that my feet would be revealed whenever I walked and therefore couldn't wear my Docs, I slid my feet into the nude heels by the door. I breathed out deeply, walking a few steps to ensure that I could walk without breaking my neck.
I met my eyes in the mirror and saw that I did not look like Lyra Watson. I looked like a proud, confident warrior. With an amazing figure. I felt dangerous, until I remembered that I was going to be spending the next few hours pretending I didn't just have sex on the floor of a sound booth with a guy that didn't even stick around to say "That was fun," or anything of the like. Turning slightly to see how the dress clings to my figure everywhere, I smiled. I may be hurt, but at least I look hot.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The camera flashes didn''t burn my eyes the same way they did a few months ago, at my birthday party. I managed to glide effortlessly in the heels, only letting Freddie hold my arm to remind myself that he was here, my best friend was here for me.
"There's an actual red carpet!" He whispered excitedly. "Can we get one for Number Four when we go home?"
I laughed at him, ignoring the cameras that catch the moment. "Sure we can. A really expensive one that we'll charge to Aware." My focus switched constantly from Freddie to the row of limousines that were pulling up. Nate and Chris would be arriving in one of them.
Sure enough, they step out to applause and cheers. They beelined their way over to us and I find my hands shaking as Nate strolled over without a care in the world, hands in the pockets of his tuxedo trousers.
I'm on the verge of showing the reporters - and therefore the whole world - just how insane I had become by slapping him for looking so goddamn calm, as though nothing had happened, when he falters in his steps just a few feet away, his gaze meeting mine.
His eyes sweep over the bold make-up, the hair which I'd left in the state it'd been in after he'd run his hands through it as he hovered over me a few short hours ago, the tight dress, the heels I'd succumbed to. I felt as though I were being x-rayed, and simply raised an eyebrow. After a shake of his head, he reached us and said, "What a scene."
It was then that I realized he didn't look as calm and collected as he'd seemed a few metres away - his tuxedo was a little wrinkled, there was a dusting of stubble across his jaw, and when he moved next to me, I could smell alcohol.
When Chris headed off to talk to reporters and Freddie wandered off to find Jasmine, who was apparently supposed to be here, Nate offered me his arm without looking at me. I took it after a moment, refusing to look at him either.
Instead I look out over the sea of gathering celebrities, each face as unremarkable as the next. And then my eyes fell upon a young woman in the crowd who looks a little lost, as though she can't quite understand what she's doing at a premiere, despite the beautiful gown she's wearing.
I know who she is even before her eyes meet mine. Beneath the posh exterior that I'm sure is every bit as inconvinient to her as it is to me, I can see the simmering emotion, almost hear the snarling voice that is Lacey D'Angelo.
Her eyes sweep through the crowd impatiently and land on me. I don't look away, instead seeing the surprise and then recognition as she stares. In her presence I can't help smirking a little, thinking that this premiere might have just got a little interesting.
And then I hear Nate's sigh, which I don't think was meant for my ears and glance up at him. I hadn't noticed how hard he was clutching my arm until that moment, or how he was clenching his jaw.
I can't help the distress that I know shows on my face as I realize that once again, I know nothing about what's going on in his head, how he's feeling. I want to say something, anything, but before I can think of the words, he pulls me towards the theatre doors as though he can't stand to be in the spotlight for another minute.
I look back as we head inside, but I can't see Lacey D'Angelo.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I tried to pay attention to the movie. I really, truly did. But despite being in a dark theatre full of celebrities, the only thing I could focus on was Nate.
Something was wrong with him.
His fingers constantly drummed against his thigh, the other hand continuously raked through his hair until it looked as messy and, well, sex-like as mine did. I could hear his feet tapping, and out of the corner of my eye I saw the way his head looked everywhere except for me.
"Stop it," I hissed at him, ignoring the few people who turned to glare. "You're making me feel claustrophobic."
Still he didn't meet my eyes. "Sorry," He mumured quickly, pretending to be intently focused on the movie.
I bit my lip, unable to stop the pounding of my heart. This was not the time or place to be having a crisis. Making assumptions would only make my head hurt more than it already did. All I could glean from his strange behaviour was that either he severely regretted sleeping with me, or he wished we were still caught up in each others arms on the floor of that sound booth. And even though I hoped for the latter, everything within me was alert of the fact that he was sitting as far away from me as the theatre seats would allow.
I was oblivious to the movie reaching it's climax, mind only on the way my life had taken a drive down the 'seriously messed-up' route.
Finally, I could take it no longer. Reaching over, I rested my hand on his leg, getting his attention. "Nate-"
He immediately shifted further back and whispered. "Not here."
I snatched my hand back and withdrew into my own seat, shaking with hurt and confusion. It was almost ironic, really, that at an event so grand as a movie premiere, somewhere that really epitomized the extent our success as a band had reached - at a place supposed to embody everything we'd ever wanted - the two of us were more unhappy than ever.
It was almost laughable.
The second the credits started to roll, I was on my feet and hurrying down the aisle towards the doors. Everyone else stood and applauded, but I couldn't stay for another second. I catch a glimpse of Chris and Freddie clapping along with everyone else, eyes restless, and I know that they paid the proper amount of attention to the movie - they were the real celebrities of the band.
Without pausing to even attempt to be polite, I shove my way through the doors and am greeted by hundreds of reporters wielding cameras. The flashes made me dizzy, and I pushed my way through the throng to receive thousands of questions pelted at me.
"How's the LP going, Lyra?"
"Has Kick the Crown recovered from the events at the end of your first tour?"
"Are the rumours of you and Nate remaining alone at a recording studio after hours true?"
"Who are you wearing?"
"Any new material to be expected any time soon?"
I ignored each and every one of them, too busy cursing everyone and everything in my mind. When I eventually reached the limosuine that had driven me to the premiere, I yanked the door open and climbed into the back seat as quickly as my dress and heels would allow.
Timothy, my designated driver, glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Are you OK, ma'am?" He asked, cautiously.
I sighed heavily and glared. "Lyra, Tim. Call me Lyra."
"Right. Lyra. Is everything alright? You look flustered."
I looked out at the chain of celebrities now leaving the theatre, albeit in a much calmer manner than I had. "I'm fine. Just a little tired, that's all."
Timothy smiled sympathetically. "Do you still wish to go to the after-party? Or would you prefer I drive you back to the hotel?"
I shook my head quickly. "I still want to go to the party. It might take my mind away from certain things."
"Then you'll be OK with waiting for the rest of you're band mates? Elliot has requested you all arrive in the same car."
I couldn't help rolling my eyes. "OK."
"Miss Jessy has dropped off the dress you are required to wear to the party tonight. I shall put the screen up." He stabbed at a button next to the wheel and a black divider shielded me from his view.
I didn't pay attention to what I was putting on, I just hoped that Freddie or Chris didn't open the car door and reveal my half-dressed self to the photographers. Eventually I had slithered out of the gold dress and pulled on whatever it was that Jessy had provided.
As I glanced down to see, I thanked God for Jessy having taken so well to not having a pop-star to dress. She had gotten used to me wearing darker colours, baggier clothes and the like. However, she also knew how I liked to look when attending a party, and she knew that I refused to adhere to social norms of what was 'suitable' for young ladies to wear. This dress was the greatest thing she'd ever given me.
It was made entirely out of mesh, fish-net material. Entirely. Its round neck was higher up on my neck that I usually go for, and the sleeves reached the very edge of my wrists. The hem, however, barely grazed mid-thigh. The fact that the dress is completely see through means that there is underwear attatched to it. Basically, I'm wearing a black fish-net dress over a black bra and panties. Everything that should be covered is covered - just.
I don't feel the gut-wrenching nervousness and self-consciousness that would normally come with wearing such a controversial dress as this. Instead, the way I'm dressed matches the way I feel. I look edgy, dangerous, afraid of nothing. Confident. And that's the only way I've ever wanted myself to look in front of the public.
I grin at the ridiculously tall, black heels and am just slipping them on as the guys clamber into the back with me.
"Whoa..." Chris exclaimed, stopping mid-sit.
Freddie ogled me, and then laughs. "You look freaking fantastic."
They take the seats opposite me, meaning that Nate has to take the one next to me. I wonder briefly how he can stand to be in such close proximity without snarling.
As the car rumbles into life, Chris and Freddie both put in their headphones and close their eyes. Nate takes this opportunity to whisper in my ear, "Why are you doing this?"
I lean back sharply. "Oh! You actually want to talk to me now?" I feign surprise, sarcasm heavily lacing my tone.
He rests his head back against his seat, frowning at the roof of the limo. "Ly-"
"Don't. Call. Me. That,"
He sighs almost sadly. "Lyra... I'm sorry."
"We are not doing this now. Here." I spit.
"But its OK for us to talk in the middle of a crowded theatre? That makes sense." He mocks, glaring at me. I shiver, remembering a similar kind of intensity to his gaze from the night before. It takes everything I have to remember I'm mad at him.
"You asked me why I'm doing this." I said, sharply. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm wearing this dress because Jessy gave it me, and I want to."
"I don't mean the dress. I like the dress, you knew I would." He admits.
I allow a smile at that. "Yeah. I did."
"What I meant was, why are you charging around like the world is attacking you? Out of the theatre, the way you look at people - its like you're getting ready to go to battle with the entire universe." He said, keeping his voice quiet as he glanced at Freddie and Chris.
"You don't get it, do you?" I said, feeling my throat close up a little. "I am at battle. The world is attacking me - because you were my world, Nathaniel Jones. And, as my world, you've done nothing but attack me." My hushed voice fills the car.
I look down, pretending to make sure my feet are in my heels properly. I will not cry, I tell myself. I will not cry.
I feel his hand under my chin and my skin becomes hyper-sensitive as he pulls me up to look at him. "I'm not trying to attack you," He mumured slowly, voice deeper than usual. "I need to talk to you. Lets blow off this crappy party and go somewhere."
I laugh loudly. "What? Now you need to talk? I don't think so. I'm going to this party, I'm going to get as drunk as I possibly can and I am going to dance by myself because I want to. And you take whatever conversation you wanted to have and shove it up-"
"Ly, please. Calm down and hear me out." He pleaded, reaching for my hand.
I close my eyes slowly. "Do you know what happened in that sound booth last night? Truly? Do you know what I gave you?"
"Yes." His voice is low, uneven.
"But what you don't know is what it felt like to wake up like that." I open my eyes again, watching him turn away in shame. "I was cold, alone and I needed you there... after."
"I wanted to be," is all he can offer in way of explanation.
"But you weren't." I hear my voice crack and work to regain my stony composure. "Now, I am going to this party and I am going to be every bit the rock star I am. You can't stop me. It's your turn to be abandoned."
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We're late to arrive at the club, but I'm so full of adrenaline and rage that I don't care. I march ahead of the others, storming into the club like I own the place. Heroes is playing over a thumping dance floor, and I remember singing it at my first Kick The Crown gig. That doesn't calm me down.
I make a beeline over to the bar, barely noticing the huge crowd dancing or the other people nursing drinks along the bar.
Grabbing a cocktail, I drain it in one and slam down my glass angrily. I take another, but before I can so much as sip at it, Nate appears by my side. Without looking at him, I say, "I think I made it pretty clear that I don't want to talk to you."
I hear him remove the tux jacket, before he says, "Do we not owe ourselves a few minutes to think what happens now?"
This time I can't help raising my voice. "Owe ourselves?! We don't 'owe ourselves' anything! We made a mistake, can we not move on seperately?!"
"Stop brushing it off like that!" He yells, forcing me to finally look at him. His face is drawn and mad, eyes blazing. "It wasn't a fucking mistake, Lyra!"
People along the bar are beginning to look at us, but we're so caught up in our anger that nothing else registers with us.
"If it wasn't a mistake, you would have been there! You wouldn't have crept away in the middle of the night like some criminal!" I throw my hands up in the air, spilling my drink over whoever was standing behind me.
"So what, you're trying to prove you don't care anymore? You think you can put on a front, wear revealing dresses and dye your hair and you won't be the same person who got hurt?" He kicks the stool closest to him slightly as his voice raises to match his temper.
"I'm being me, Nate! I am me! I'm not proving anything, I'm not making a point! I'm getting by, you self-concerned twat!"
I can tell we've pushed things way too far - in a club full of people waiting to whisper to the first reporter they see about everything we've said - but at that moment, Nate and I were too far gone to even think about calming down.
"Ly," He breathed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. "I'm asking you to give me a chance to explain myself."
Taking a moment to compose myself, to lower my voice, I turn back to the bar and brace my hands against the smooth wooden counter. "I want you to explain. I want to, I really do." I murmur, keeping my back to him.
His voice is much closer and I can feel him pressed along my back. Goosebumps raise along my arms, taking me back to that sound booth again. "Then come with me." He whispers. "We don't need to be here, Chris and Freddie are representing the band and Aware. Come with me, anywhere you like. Please."
I close my eyes and lean my head back against his chest. "I'm mad at you," I mumble.
His chuckle is nothing more than a whisper against my neck. "You're always mad at me."
I turn sideways, my cheek now pressed against the front of his shirt, and slide an arm around his waist. "Elliot will be so mad if he finds out we ditched the party together."
His hand glides across the back of my leg. "Stop making excuses, Ly."
Feeling drunk from his touch, his words and the grin that has managed to replace his frown, I grab his hand and pull him towards the exit. As we fight our way through the throng of bodies, I shout, "We're going to get thrown out of the band for this!"
"When are you going to realise-" His voice is barely audible over the heavy bass and screaming, "-that if he really believed in that threat, we'd have been thrown out already?"
Eventually, we found ourselves by the door. The bouncer that had previosuly witnessed us storming into the club with murder in our eyes simply shakes his head as he fends off the paparazzi waiting outside for us.
And the stupid thing was that I knew it was a bad idea, I knew Elliot would go mad and I knew the photos the reporters did manage to take would make the rumours of our relationship virtually impossible to explain away. But in that moment, I just wanted him to explain. I wanted to know why he left.
So I didn't let go of his hand as we made our way back to the car.
With a little bit of encouragement and the promise of a Christmas bonus, Tim vacated the vehicle and went off to call a cab for himself.
Nate slid into the drivers' seat and grinned as I buckled in the passenger side, making sure to slam the door. "Where to?" He said.
I glanced at him, noting the childlike glee in his eyes. "I feel like I'm sixteen again, doing stupid stuff for no reason."
"Hey." His hand found my cheek, and I had never seen his eyes look so sincere. "We have a reason. I have something I need to tell you."
"Will it explain why you weren't there last night?" For the first time, I felt the emotion I'd been repressing since waking up alone clog my throat. Embarrassment. I blinked away the tears forming and tried a light-hearted grin.
I couldn't hide anything from Nate, though. Not any more. He quickly unbuckled my seatbelt and within a heartbeat had pulled me from the passenger seat to his lap, my back uncomfortably pressed against the steering wheel as he wrapped his arms around me.
"I'm sorry," He whispered into my hair as I let a few tears slide down my cheeks. "Ly, believe me, I'm so sorry."
I pulled back and looked at him. There was no point wiping tears away now. "Did you not... like it?" It sounded ridiculous even to me, but worry had been plaguing me for hours. "Did it not mean the same thing to you?" After the jokes about being sixteen, I suddenly felt much younger. Small, vulnerable.
Nate's thumbs brushed tears from my jaw. "Lyra, last night meant everything to me. It.... I can't begin to tell you how much I wanted it, how much I needed you then. So yes, I liked it. And I don't know exactly what it meant to you, but I do know that it was the best night of my life."
I was stunned. "Nate..."
"And I also know," He interupted, removing his hands and bracing them on the steering wheel behind me, "That I have never loved you as much as I did last night. As I do right now."
I hiccupped slightly as the last of my tears trailed down my face. "Then why weren't you there?" I whispered, not meeting his gaze.
He deflated, looking out of the window. "It's not simple. What I'm about to tell you, I need you to not go mad, OK? I know the consequences, I've thought about it and I know I did the right thing."
"What are you-"
"I woke up before you did. You were curled up to my side, hair all over the place and clothes still thrown all about the booth." He chuckled slightly. "And I looked at you, I ran my fingers over your tattoo... And I knew I couldn't keep playing this game we'd set up any more." He broke off and played absent-mindedly with a strand of my hair.
"Carry on," I said, my voice clear.
His eyes darted up to mine. "I knew I couldn't pretend to Elliot or the press or Chris and Freddie anymore. The whole forwards and backwards part of us had broken us beyond repair, and to continue down that path... That path of stolen moments together amidst arguments and hating each others guts, it would break us completely. There'd be nothing left of us to salvage."
"What did you do, Nate?" I was growing wary.
He played with the hem of my dress. "I went to the Aware representatives staying at the hotel and demanded they put me in touch with Elliot. They reluctantly gave me his London address - remember he flew out so he could watch the show? - and I went there. To his house."
"Nate, what did you do?"
It was a long moment before he met my eyes again. "I quit the band."
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I'm sorry this took so long, but I'm pretty sure its longer than usual to make up for it. We're maybe halfway through the book now, so do what you can with that information.
Love you all, especially for putting up with such a unreliable author!
Meg