Chapter Twelve

It's amazing what a bit of make-up, some hair grips, a spritz of hairspray, deodorant and perfume, and a change of top can do for a really tired girly. Looking sideways at myself, I've scrubbed up alright. What I see in the mirror, is someone so ready for a fab party. The chiffon cold shoulder top has certainly livened up my work trousers and stilettos. My brown hair is no longer up, it's now tumbling loose and long down the right side of my neck and chest. My eyes are made up of a striking blend of gold and black, with the fullest ebony lashes that a girl can flutter with and my lips are now stained with a sultry blood red matt lipstick. Yup! I am liking what I see!

Just as I'm putting away all of my things into my now very messy bag, there's a gentle couple of taps on the dressing room door. "Come in!" I loudly call out.

"Hey, you nearly ready?" Rhys hesitates to fully come into the room, but as soon as he sees me, all of his movements just seem to slow right down. He blinks, slowly. He closes the door, slowly. He lifts his chin, slowly. He comes closer, slowly. It's almost as if he doesn't want to be near me but finds it impossible to stay away. "You look..." His words seem a little lost too. "You look..." he quietly says, stopping right in front of me. "Amazing."

Enjoying seeing Rhys Ryan looking a little shy and lost for words, has me smiling down at the floor before I slowly lift my eyes back to his. "It must be contagious." I quietly reply, loving being able to say something he once so sweetly said to me.

He smirks, then laughs with his sage spheres gazing intently at me. "I think me and my lips might be breaking promises later." He then blinks with a small frown, rubbing his cheek and chin with his fingers and his smirk obviously being restrained.

I'm a grown woman, but his pleasurable threat makes me blush like a crushing teenager. But...he and his lips are something that I shouldn't be getting quietly excited about. This is just one party. Then he will go his American way and I will go my British way. England and America are a very long way away from each other. It would be insane for either of us to ever lock lips again.

Too much distance. Too complicated. Too confusing. Too much everything.

Yes, it would be fun.

Unbelievable fun.

Unbelievable, sexy fun.

But sadly, short-lived fun.

As hard as it really is, I have to curb whatever is happening between us. I just have to. Taking a little step back from him, just to put an invisible safe zone around myself, I keep my answer lighthearted. "A promise is a promise, Rhys Ryan." My scolding is said in jest but my eyes tell him I am deadly serious.

"I know." He wryly remarks, guiding me near the door with his hand warmly held against the middle of my back. As he opens it, and just as I am walking through it, he quietly adds. "Promises sometimes get broken for a worthy reason, Clara Thorn." My full name sounds so very different coming from him. Somehow, his silken American voice makes it more arousing to the ear. "Now move your British butt, you're killing me here."

Scooting past him in my heels, in the most ladylike of ways, I giggle. "Okay! Okay! I'm ready!" Knowing that me and my British butt are undoubtedly being checked out by the incredibly irresistible Rhys Ryan. And you know what? Right now, I like it.

**

Being at the after show party is both exhilarating and overwhelming. Exhilarating, because I am here. Overwhelming because there are an awful lot of A and B listers here as well. Anyone who is literally anyone on the celebrity circuit has desperately wanted to be at this party. Then there's me, at this very party. I know, if that's not a squeeeeeeeeeee moment, I honestly don't know what is. As always, I hang back and people watch—here, famous people watch.

There are a lot of faces I recognise, and a few who recognise me. Being a media journalist, we sometimes do get recognised by those that we've previously interviewed or met at some swanky do somewhere. Tonight is a little bit different for me, though. Tonight, I am not actively working. Tonight, I am letting down my hair and having some fun. Yup, I have a vodka and cranberry in my hand and have Rhys Ryan and his team diligently looking after me. I am totally feeling like a spoilt VIP. It's kind of sweet how they all feel like they should be keeping me company when I honestly am happy to just mingle all by myself. I'm used to doing things by myself. It's the confident streak in me. But I won't lie, I do like it whenever Rhys is schmoozing with his guests, how he will scan the room for my face and then throws a dazzling smile from across the room as soon as he spots me. He's being distantly attentive. Which totally works for me. I am not a girl who is all clingy and lost-looking. It's just not my style. Besides, if we are seen too much together, it would only get tongues wagging. No, I'm just soaking up the party atmosphere and enjoying a little eyeball flirtation with Mr Mega Famous himself.

"I thought that was you, do you remember me?" A perky voice suddenly asks.

With the pretty blonde soon being recognised, I smile with a wide open mouth as I enthusiastically hug the friendly soul in front of me. "Tanya, it's so great to see you! How are you?" Tanya Richie is a former reality TV show star. Blonde. Popular. Likeable.

She's now embarking on a career as a presenter, which seems to be going really well for her. Fame-Us were the first magazine to ever interview her and I distinctly remember just how nervous she was.

Eagerly hugging me back, she says. "I'm great, thanks. And you?" Her saucer-like blue eyes are shining back at me, her glossy-lipped smile still firmly in place.

With high energy, I keenly answer. "I'm doing really good, too." Then I check out what she's glamorously wearing—a figure-hugging gold bodycon dress. "Looking ultra sassy, as always." I teasingly tell her with a playful pout.

Returning the compliment, she smiles. "As are you!" Then she turns slightly to cast her bright big eyes over all of the star-studded guests. "I'm guessing that you're working, then?" She casually assumes, just as she grabs a champagne flute from off a tray that is being carried just past her by a young waiter.

"Yes." I lie. As sweet as Tanya is, I'm not about to tell her that I am here just because Rhys Ryan wanted me to be. She also doesn't need to know that I've just completed an 'Access All Areas' weekend with him and that I am very much here as a guest and not as a journalist. There are a few other media peeps here that are currently working the crowd, so I don't exactly stick out like a sore thumb or anything.

Tanya looks back at me, her face illuminated with excitement. "Have you met him?" Taking a quick sip of her champagne, she doesn't even give me a chance to reply. "Rhys Ryan, I mean?" Taking another excited sip, she starts gushing all about him. "Ding Dong! He turns me on!" She flaps her manicured fingers in front of her face, trying to show me just how hot she really thinks he is. "Have you seen him in concert?" Again, she doesn't wait. "Oh. My. God. I went with some friends last week. I swear, I think my womb actually burst with want!"

I'm laughing, thinking carefully about how I will answer. Just as I'm about to, I feel hands on my lower back and arm. "Clara, can I just have a quick word?" It's Rhys. Looking gorgeous. Sounding sweet. Being polite. And probably bursting a very nearby womb.

"Uh, sure." I say, smiling at him first and then back at Tanya. "Sorry, duty calls." My apology is genuine, although I have to admit, I wish I had a snap of her stunned and envious face—it was almost as golden as her dress.

With a small wave, I am soon following Rhys Ryan. We snake through all of the guests. Walking at a determined pace away from everyone. I have no idea where we are going, I just keep heading in the same direction that he is. He soon stops at a door, looking all around him before opening it and ushering me inside. We are in a quiet and darkened room. Only the light of the moon creeps in from the arch window, reaching only pockets of the poorly lit room. "What are we—" My words are silenced, silenced with lips so warm and so affectionately cushioned. Rhys Ryan is once again kissing me, kissing away my question and kissing away every ounce of my common sense. His lips are at the helm of me. Those delectable lips of his are making all of my thoughts a jumbled up mess.

I can't think.

I can't move.

I can't break away.

My mouth is exactly where it wants to be—with his.

As our kiss deepens, his fingertips sensuously stroke my arms. In a cherishing and lazy way, his fingers tenderly trace up and down my sensitive skin. It feels like his touch is the touch that my skin has always been waiting for. With every light and tender trail, it pleasurably comes alive. Slowly, Rhys ends our delectable kiss. Resting his head softly against mine, he whispers. "You knew I would break my promise."

Sighing with a strange fulfilment, I whisper back. "You can't keep kissing me, Rhys."

Bringing his lips heart-racingly close to mine, he smiles. "I'll have a word with my mouth, if you'll have a word with yours?" Then he kisses me again. The most softest of kisses that a guy can give. His lips move so languidly slow against mine, they make me want to forget every single one of my doubts. Reluctantly, he then pulls our pleasured lips apart again, his smile becoming cockily crooked. "Nope...they don't appear to be listening." His short laugh is deep as he tenderly brings our heads back together again.

I shouldn't be laughing with Rhys, yet I am. "Stop it!" Hitting him on the arm, I try to make my face look really serious. "This is not a good idea." My eyes now search his, searching for some sensibility within his dilated sage spheres.

I don't get sensibility, I only get his honesty. "It's the best idea I've ever had." Rubbing the tips of our noses together in a sweet and circular way, we breathe in each other's contented breaths. The silence is now only filled with 'us' as we try to make sense of what is happening.

Confusion settles heavily within me. I don't want it to be there, but it is. It sits in my soul like a ton of rocks, weighing down every single thought that comes into my mind, weighing down every feeling in my heart. Although it feels good being in Rhys's arms and although his lips feel oh so good on mine, this can't ever work. He's leaving soon. I will be here in London. He will be in America. I must be absolutely insane to be doing this. Feeling overwhelmed and emotionally out of my depth, I recoil in his arms. The very arms that I want to be held by, but they are the ones that will soon no longer be around. No, I just can't do this. "I mean it, Rhys. This is a really bad idea." I plead for him to listen, needing to get safely away from his lips and his arms. "I think I had better go." I'm now free of his hold around me and I already have the door handle in my hand. "I'm so sorry." Then I'm gone. I am nearly running down the hallway. I daren't look back, I just keep making my way towards the noisy guests. It's only once I am in the thick of them, that I finally feel safe. It's only then that I am finally able to gather my scattered thoughts. Such stupid, stupid thoughts that they are.

What was I thinking?

How could I be so irresponsible?

Irresponsible and foolish.

I knew that flirting with Rhys Ryan would be dangerous, but the truth is, I liked flirting with him. It felt good having some flirty fun. But I stupidly let it go too far. Now, that fun must end. And so must my crush on him end, too. This isn't me. Crushing over some American pop star. It's just not something I would ordinarily do. Nor is locking lips with said American pop star something I would ordinarily do, either. Seriously, what has Rhys Ryan done to me?

"You okay?" Cameron has his arm right around me, sensing that something is up.

Feeling uneasy, my reply is stilted. "Um, I have a banging headache, actually. Just heading home." I hastily explain, knowing that I really need to leave now.

Protectively, Cam holds me tighter. "I'll walk out with you, then." He sweetly begins to turn me and it's then that I see Rhys just emerging from the sea of guests that surround him. His eyes clock where Cameron's arm is upon my shoulder. His good looks become marred with anger, regret and disappointment veiling his otherwise perfect features. He stares at me until I am completely turned away by Cam and his comforting arm. Although I can no longer see Rhys's dull eyes, I can feel them upon my back. I know he is watching me and Cam leave. I know he is angry and disappointed, I know that. It was sat upon his pained face for all to see. As I put one careful foot in front of the other, the guiltier I feel. Rhys has had one hell of a day. His sister. His last show. And now me. The only thing that I can now do to honour the time that I have happily spent with him; is to deliver one hell of a ten page spread to Fame-Us. I need to collate everything I have. Every photo. Every sweet memory. To create something that will do Rhys Ryan the truest of media justice. It's the very least I can do for him. After stupidly kissing and flirting with him, I feel like I at least owe him that.