If Ever(71)

"Breakfast of champions is it?" She smirks.

"Only way to start the day after a night of debauchery. You are an excellent shag, my dear." I flash my eyebrows at her.

Her face pinks up. Chelsea is sexy as hell and the way she blushes makes me want to toss her back into the pillows and start again.

I pour a bowl and hand it to her, but she shakes her head regretfully. "I'd love to stay, but I've got to get back to my hotel."

"Why? It's not going anywhere."

"The show only paid for one night. They also gave me a one-way airline ticket home. For today." She looks away, avoiding my eyes.

I set the bowl on my nightstand. "You’re not using it." She can’t leave yet, but she’s quiet and doesn’t immediately respond. I wish I could read her mind and know how to play this.

“No. I’m not using it today, but I’m moving to a cheaper hotel. Four hundred dollars a night is ridiculous. I found an Airbnb that’s a lot less.”

I relax. “Why don’t you bring your stuff here instead?” Breakfast forgotten, I stand and pull on my jeans.

"And stay with you?"

"That's the general idea." This is a snap decision, but the easiest I've made in a long time.

"You barely know me, we've hardly spent any time together, and I don't want to ruin it." She sits on my bed, hugging her shapely legs.

I grin. "You're kidding, right? We've been doing this long distance thing for well over a month. Now that I've got you here, in my city, and in my flat, I don't exactly plan on letting you go." And then I back pedal. "Unless, of course, you don't want to stay."

She's flustered for a moment, but recovers. "Of course, I want to be with you, but I don't want to impose. Plus, you have a roommate."

"Who's rarely here," I add, pulling a shirt on.

"But what if you get sick of me and change your mind? Which, as far as I'm concerned, is likely."

"Bollocks. Not going to happen." I stand my ground with arms crossed.

"You don't know that." She's stubbornly trying to win this battle of wills, but she won't.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I do, but that's a conversation for another time. Would you feel better if we call this a trial basis?"

She hesitates. "That would be better, but I really don't want you to feel obligated."

"Trust me, I won't." I lean over and kiss her. She tastes minty.

"What if we try it for a couple days and then regroup."

I shake my head. "Nothing less than a week. That's my final offer." I can tell she wants to stay, but she hesitates.

"What'll I do while you're at your show?"

"Whatever you'd be doing if you were staying somewhere else. Sightsee, hang out, read."

She bites her lip. "You're really sure?"

"Do I look like I'm sure?" I raise an eyebrow.

She swallows and nods.

"Good. Let's get your stuff."

The rest of the day is a whirlwind. Over her objections, I clear out two dresser drawers and a section of my closet. I once spent three months on tour and came to loathe living out of a suitcase. We're moving fast, but it feels right.

I'm tempted to take her straight back to bed, but resist her alluring smile long enough to do more respectable things like walking with her through Central Park, feeding the birds, and catching a late lunch. I've blown off my workout, but it was well worth it.

Only as I'm leaving for the show, when I look at the dead plant in the living room, do I doubt my sanity at inviting her to stay, but I push the thought aside, and trust my gut. Chelsea is different. She's the kind of girl who makes me fly across country on my one day off so I can spend a couple of hours with her. She’s never asked me for a thing, and she's the first girl I haven't jumped in the sack with at the earliest possible moment. I want to be a better person when she's around.

Chelsea insists on seeing my show again tonight, despite seeing it twice already. It's flattering as hell that she loves it so much.

Max walks into my dressing room at intermission as I'm laughing about a text from Chelsea. He sprawls into a chair with his leg hanging over the armrest. "I take it things are going well with Chelsea."

I grin. "Why do you say that?"

"Because you've been grinning like a fool every time I see you backstage. She must be excellent in bed."

I raise an eyebrow and say nothing.

He waits for my response and then laughs when I say nothing. "Well, I'll be damned? So that's how it is?"

"Yes, Max. That's how it is."

After the show Chelsea meets me in my dressing room. She waits patiently on the love seat while I go through my post show routine, removing my mic packs, wiping off my makeup, and arranging my dressing table for tomorrow.

When we step outside, there's a small crowd of fans. I explain to her that it'll be a good twenty minutes before I can get to everyone. She's a total trooper and waits under a street lamp out of the way, while I complete my last obligation of the night.

"You're so good with everyone," Chelsea says later as we're walking home. The night is mild with no wind. We head up Ninth Avenue, away from the theatre district.