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CHAPTER NINETEEN

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CHRISSIE

A knock at my door wakes me. I stumble befuddled to the door, my hair standing on end, the crinkles from my pillow embedded into my cheek, and I open the door slightly, peeping through between the door and the doorway.

I groan. Vincent is standing in front of me, showered and dressed. I bring my hand up to my hair and try to smooth it down.

He starts laughing loudly and pushes past me into the room.

“I am glad you find me amusing,” I say insulted. “Please, if you could only see you now, you would also think it's funny.”

I walk to the bathroom, but he follows me, pulling me back into the room. “No, leave it. I like it.”

“No, you don’t,” I insist.

“Let’s order room service first and then you can go and have a shower,” he suggests.

“No, let me go shower while you order room service.”

“You must hurry though because the bus is leaving in an hour.”

I am tired, and I am not looking forward to getting on the bus to the next town, but I walk to the bathroom again, and then I lock the door behind me. I get into the shower, and I quickly wash my hair and soap my body. When I get out of the shower, I feel refreshed and much better. I feel more awake.

Chastising myself, I notice I forgot to bring clothes in with me, so I put my pyjamas back on again—boxers and a T-shirt. I go back into the room where Vincent is waiting for me, to get fresh clothes.

He has ordered breakfast, and when I open the bathroom door, I smell the bacon and eggs, realizing how hungry I am.

“I forgot to take some clothes with me,” I say apologetically.

“Come here.” He motions with his hand, tapping it on the bed next to him, for me to come closer. “Let’s eat first.”

I am more than willing to oblige. I sit with him, cross-legged on the bed, and we eat.

When I am full, I sigh contended and fall backwards onto the bed.

Vincent takes this as an invitation. Leaning across me, he kisses me.

I tentatively let my arms creep around his shoulders, and pull him closer, down into me.

He leans on his elbow, moves his other arm in under my shoulders, and lifts me closer to him.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and then I let my hand drift down his back, over his muscular upper body. I feel his lips move against mine, soft and engaging.

I desperately want to spend forever with him.

He slowly moves away from me, smiling, he clears his throat and whispers softly near my ear, “Time to go.”

I quickly squirm off the bed, suddenly feeling immensely inhibited, and I get a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and some underwear from my suitcase. I lock myself in the bathroom again, to get dressed.

When I am dressed and, in the room, again, Vincent is sitting on the bed and he smiles amused while I quickly throw the stuff I took out of my suitcase, back into it.

When I am ready to leave, Vincent helps me to carry the bag out to the bus. Not too long after, we are on our way again.

Vincent sits next to me.

A while into the journey, I lay down with my head on his lap and I put my legs up against the windows of the bus.

I look up at him. “What does Dennis, George and Simon say about us?”

“I bared my soul to them even before we came on the tour.” He laughs embarrassed. “And we agreed this will be our tour secret until you and I can sort out something between us. They had their suspicions after the day we performed The Great Divide for the first time.”

“Okay.” I smile up at him.

He leans down to me, and he pushes his lips against mine while I lift my head up to him. I part my lips slightly and I hear him groan softly.

Too soon, he lifts his head and then he drapes his arm over my waist. Leaning back, he looks out the window preoccupied. I feel a sadness surrounding us.

We arrive at the next venue, and it is as if someone had pressed the repeat button. I feel a little more relaxed though, and after the performance and the encore, everyone wants to go out again.

We are all on an incredible high, feeding off the energy and vivacity of hundreds of people in the last hour.

Vincent looks at me – doing eye-speak again—and then he says, “No. I'm tired. I'd rather stay in.”

Dennis, George, and Simon take this as their cue, and they walk off, saying bye. They are laughing and joking amongst themselves – something about going to wherever all the fans hang out.

Vincent walks with me up to my room, and then invites himself in.

He falls onto my bed and laying down on his back, he says softly, “I am so very, very tired.”

“Only after two nights, how are you going to do this for the rest of your life then?”

“Hopefully, for the rest of my life, thoughts about you won’t keep me awake at night.”

“That’s mean,” I joke.

I sit down next to him on the bed.

He leans up and then with his hands around my waist, he pulls me down until I am laying down next to him.

He takes my hand into his and I notice he also enjoys my favourite pastime – staring up at the ceiling.

I lay there for the longest time, and I can hear his deep, peaceful intakes of breath and his soft exhales. I hold tightly onto his hand, making sure when I fall asleep, I do not let go.

I wake up the next morning feeling well rested. I get up and go to the bathroom to shower, and while I am in the shower, I think back to last night. I assume Vincent woke up somewhere during the night and left.

I am dressed and ready to go, when there is a knock at my door, and I open it excited.

It is only breakfast.

Someone had ordered me room service, so I sit down and eat it by myself.

I am almost finished eating when there is another knock at the door, and I think to myself it must be him now, but once again, I am disappointed because it is only Dennis. I greet him friendly and then he tells me he is here to help me with my bags.

I have questions, like where is Vincent, but I do not ask them.

We walk down to the bus, chatting friendly and when I get on the bus, I see Vincent sitting in the back of the bus talking to Simon.

He looks up and immediately his eyes focus on mine.

I look down and then sit down in my usual seat.

Tears burn my eyes, as I put my earphones on, and I close my eyes.

The next few nights and days feel like years; they drag by extremely slowly.

There is a moment when I contemplate phoning my dad to fetch me, but that will just be juvenile, it is about time I grow up and face life as it is.