“Any time.”

We danced out the rest of the song before I asked, “So, you and Callum seem to be getting along better?”

She made a non-committal gesture. “We realised we needed to let it go. Neither one of us can be what the other wants, but we’ve been through a lot together. I’d rather be friends than nothing at all.”

I pondered her words and wondered, if I’d come to the same conclusion about Trev two years ago, would it have worked out? Could we have forgotten the whole lovers thing and just gone back to being friends?

Probably not. There had been too many years of build up.

Anyway, I had to live in the present instead of wallowing in what ifs. He was back in my life now, acting like he wanted to start something up again. The only difference was he wasn’t disappearing on me this time, flickering on and off like a cheap candle. Now he was with me every day, always on hand if I needed him. Was this his way of showing me how it could be between us if I gave him another shot?

It just felt like a massive step backwards. Sure, I’d never really gotten over him, but would I recover if I let myself fall for him again and he let me down? After we spent our three weeks together, what then?

A group of guys slowly sidled up to us. One of them started dancing with Leanne while another moved closer to me. I wasn’t interested in dancing with him, which was fucked up in itself because he was attractive and probably had a sexy French accent to boot. I was far too pre-occupied with the blue-eyed Londoner sitting in the VIP section to even notice anyone else. I knew he was watching me, even though I couldn’t see him. I could just feel it.

Speaking of being watched. I’d almost forgotten that the film crew were scattered around the club, capturing footage, though I suspected they were focused on Paul and Callum’s antics more than anything else.

I startled when two arms came around my waist. Thinking it was one of the men who’d started dancing with us, I twisted around to tell him I wasn’t interested only to find Trev staring down at me. His eyes shone in the dark club, the flashing lights turning them into a spectrum of every colour.

I opened my mouth to say something when his arms tightened around my waist and pulled me closer. My chest pressed into his when he bent low to murmur, “Just dance with me for a minute.”

There was something about his tone that made me give in without a single protest. The crowded club and the music and his closeness all combined to overload my senses. My throat ran dry when his thumb moved back and forth over the base of my spine. We moved to the beat, not once breaking eye contact. Like many times before, I was caught up in his web.

I was the suicidal fly that wanted to be eaten.

My nipples hardened. I could feel them brushing sensitively against the fabric of my bra. I just hoped the padding prevented Trev from feeling them, too. The song changed to something with a heavier bass line. Sound waves hit me right in the pit of my stomach.

His hands started to move, exploring the curves of my hips before coming to rest on my backside. He gave a soft squeeze and my arousal shot sky high. This wasn’t dancing. This was claiming.

He lowered his mouth to my neck and whispered in my ear, “I miss how you come.”

Those words made me tremble. So confidently seductive. Trev had always been in control in the bedroom. He liked to give orders, and there was a rebellious side to me that liked to protest. I think he enjoyed that even more than if I just did as he asked.

His mouth found my earlobe, his tongue dipping out in a feather-light lick. I practically turned to liquid in his arms, closing my eyes.

“You should stop doing that if you don’t want everyone to see me come on this dance floor,” I shot back, feeling a little unstable.

“Wouldn’t want that.” I could feel his smirk.

I couldn’t help the smile that curled my lips in return. He just had this way of pulling it out of me. Trying to be brave, I asked, “What else do you miss?”

He nuzzled my neck and started to hum. “Hmm, let me see. I miss your laugh. I miss how you used to give me shit for being an arsehole. I miss when you used to stay over in my room and all we did was sleep. I miss hanging out with you in your tiny flat. I miss hearing you sing for me.”

His words were like a declaration. They overwhelmed me, bringing on a memory. I was staying the night at his house, because we were watching movies and it had gotten too late for me to go home. We’d lain on his narrow bed, fully clothed because back then we were still just friends. Trev surprised me by asking me to sing him a lullaby. I initially thought he was joking, but then I saw the serious look on his face, so I sang to him. It was one of the most intimate moments we’d ever shared. There’d just always been this feeling of closeness between us. I could get off on as little as a shared look or a touch of his hand. I fell headfirst into the past.

His hand brushed up and down my spine as I sang the chorus to “Galileo” by Declan O’Rourke. It was overly sweet and romantic and I felt weird and self-conscious by the time I finished. Maybe it had been the wrong choice, but then Trev looked at me with such a fierce intensity I thought he might kiss me.

Instead he asked, “Why don’t you ever talk about your family, Reya?”

My heart sank. He’d never asked me this question before. “Because nobody likes sad stories.”

“I don’t care if it’s sad. I just want to know.”

“Karla’s the only one I’ve ever told.”

“Now I’m insulted. She’s only your second-best friend. Everybody knows I’m your first,” he quietly teased.

I gave him a small smile and wondered if he was right. He was my best friend. Maybe he did deserve to know the truth, where I came from, what I’d been through. I was speaking before I even realised words were coming out of my mouth.

“I was raised very firmly within the Catholic church,” I began. Trev didn’t let up stroking my back and it helped to soothe my tension. We lay side by side on the bed, facing each another. “My dad owns a restaurant where I grew up in Enfield, so my parents have always been involved in the community, especially the church. I was actually taught to play piano by a nun, believe it or not. Anyway, my childhood was very regimented. I was the youngest of four children and my parents ran a tight ship. I always had to conduct myself in a respectable manner. Like, if I wore a neckline that was too low or a top that was too tight, my father would literally ground me for a week. Not exactly easy when you’ve got a body like mine. My boobs make everything look too tight.”