Ed led the way to the back garden via a narrow side street. From there it was easy enough to scale the wall and enter the key code to access the deserted kitchen. Four empty mugs stood next to the sink, one of them smudged with Anya’s lipstick.
Without her laughter or the boy band’s constant sniping, the house sounded empty, aside from theclickandwhirof the wall-mounted cameras following their progress through each room. Their footsteps echoed in the tiled hallway, and Pasha took the stairs two at a time behind Ed before pushing past into his bedroom.
“Pash….”
He’d only been gone for a few days, but what had seemed the height of luxury on their first day at the house now seemed ridiculously ostentatious. The flat they’d just stood outside of was probably smaller than this one room. Ed’s room in Cornwall had been small and cluttered too, and yet his head hadn’t ached half so much there. Pasha’s focus was drawn to the seating area where his phone still charged on the arm of a chair exactly where he’d left it. He strode over and detached it from its cable to scroll through message after message he’d missed.
“Pasha.”
Pasha still read while crossing to the foot of the bed. It was at least twice as wide as the sagging single he’d woken up in next to Ed that morning. Was thatreallyonly this morning? Pasha sank onto its soft mattress to read his texts rather than to deal with what had just happened.
“For fuck’s sake.” This time, Ed was right there, standing between his legs and impossible to ignore as he pulled the phone out of his grasp. “Don’t you dare block me out now!” Far from the blank face he’d worn earlier, up close Ed’s upset was visible. “Don’t even try it, Pash.Talk to me.”
“What do you want to know?”
“The truth. I thought I already did, but maybe?—”
The camera in the far corner of the room was almost silent as it zoomed in. Ed moved before Pasha even registered the mechanism’s faint sound, reaching into Pasha’s front pocket and pulling out the brick he’d carried. The camera shattered when it hit, dangling from loose wires instead of getting the chance to record them arguing for the nation’s entertainment.
“Wow.”
“Shut up.” Ed’s cheeks had colored, but he sounded deadly serious. “This is important. No cameras, and no game playing between us. This—this—is you telling me what the hell just happened.” Ed hauled in a deep breath, and knelt. He rested a hand on each of Pasha’s thighs and squeezed. “You were fine,” he said. “Wewere fine. Right up until you read that newspaper.” He looked down as if his head was suddenly too heavy for his neck. His voice was a little quieter after his initial harsh shout, now softened by confusion. “Why did you lie, Pash? Why did you lie about doing all this for your mum?”
“I didn’t lie.” Pasha placed his hands on Ed’s where they rested flat on his thighs. He felt Ed’s grip on his legs subtly tighten when he added, “Not deliberately, anyhow.”
“Not deliberately?”
The tension in Ed’s hands suggested he was about to get up. Pasha pushed his own down harder, only letting go when a slam from downstairs drew their attention. Anya’s voice was audible as she and some of the boy band argued in the hallway downstairs. The sound faded as the kitchen door closed behind them. Ed used the distraction to slip free of Pasha’s hold. He was across the room in seconds, tense, his posture rigid. He spoke before Pasha could get another word in.
“Let me know when you’re ready to tell me the whole truth.” His expression wavered from remote to bewildered beforesettling somewhere between. “After this week… after the last few days… I’ve told you so much—” He broke off and stood up straighter, a subtle shift of stance that left him sounding as withdrawn as he looked. “I told you everything about me. And about Steve and Mandy. I let you into my home.” Ed spat his next words like bullets. “I wanted you there, for fuck’s sake!” He faltered before meeting Pasha’s gaze. “Were you really only acting?”
Maybe Ed took his silence—strange in a house that had been full of song and shouting for weeks—as agreement.
When the door closed behind him, theclickof its lock sounded final.
Later,Pasha found Anya in the kitchen.
“Ed set aside some supper for you. It’s in the covered bowl in the fridge.” He delved until he found it. “You should have heard him warn the others not to touch it.” Her gaze darted in the direction of a coule of dirty dishes left on the table. “A couple of the boy band gave him hassle.”
“Tell me something new.” Pasha pulled out a covered dish and sniffed its contents. He should be hungrier than he felt. He put it in the microwave and set the timer for a couple of minutes.
“Don’t worry. Your boyfriend fished out all the olives for you.” Anya must have noticed his flinch. “What’s up? I thought you two were loved up?” The cameras followed her as she cleared the kitchen table. “Trouble in paradise?” she asked under her breath.
When he didn’t reply, looking pointedly at the cameras as an excuse, she quickly changed the subject and opened her laptop.
He stirred his steaming supper while she typed. “I keep expecting management to turn up with our marching orders.”
“You’re kidding.” She clicked a few keys. “You’ve seen your coverage, haven’t you?”
She turned her laptop so he could see its screen and then pressed Play on a YouTube video. Ed was just finishing the song he’d sung in Cornwall. Even a poor-quality recording couldn’t mask the emotion in his voice.
“He nailed it,” Pasha murmured.
The video continued with Ed recounting the story of why he wanted to win with the song his best friend had written. Pasha watched him describe the worst time in his life with heart, courage, and candor.
Why hadn’t he been able to do the same when Ed asked such simple questions?
Why had he held anything back?