Chapter Eight: I’m northern, not an alien

I had the craziest dream last night. I would have classed it as a nightmare, but it took a turn for the better as it went on.

Rolling over and opening my eyes, I find myself face to face with a sleeping Troy Reeves. I lift the covers and peep underneath – yep, we’re both naked, so last night wasn’t a dream. I hold off my victory dance, not only because it will wake Troy, but also because that means Dylan really is missing.

I roll over and check my phone. Bloody hell, it’s midday. That means in just six hours time Dylan needs to be on the bus, and unless I find him that just isn’t going to happen. Claire will hang him out to dry and he’ll be in a whole mess of trouble – if you thought tracking him down was hard it’s nothing compared to what it will be like trying to handle him if the label ditch him.

‘Good morning,’ I hear a voice say from behind me as an arm creeps around my waist.

‘Morning,’ I reply, rolling over carefully so that the covers stay up to my neck. I’m suddenly very conscious of the fact that I’m naked.

‘How did you sleep?’ Troy asks me.

‘For too long,’ I reply. ‘It’s technically afternoon.’

Troy laughs at me and pulls me close for a cuddle. I can’t pretend I’m entirely comfortable right now. I just want to find my clothes – well, that random girl’s clothes – and carry on looking for Dylan before it’s too late.

‘You needed the sleep, you were knackered last night.’

‘Yes, I seem to remember you telling me that before you kept me up for another two hours.’

He laughs again. I must seem like an absolutely ridiculous person to him – losing my friends, my clothes and finally my underwear right before his eyes, and all in the space of one night.

‘You need to chill out a bit, Nicole. Dylan isn’t your problem and if he’s shagging his way around this hotel, then why shouldn’t you have some fun too? He doesn’t deserve a Tommy Tank the way he’s behaved tonight.’

‘What did you say?’ I ask, a little bulb lighting up in my head.

‘Tommy Tank? It’s Cockney rhyming slang, it means–’

‘I know what it means,’ I interrupt, ‘I’m northern, not an alien.’

‘Have I offended you?’ Troy asks me, clearly baffled.

‘No, but you might have saved the day.’