You Deserve Better (Book 1)

Chapter 7 - Untitled 9

" Please say you'll come alone tonight.
Please sing the words we love.
Don't say that you forgot them.
Don't keep the hand we've come to hold.
I know you want to untie this rope and let it go. "

'Untitled 9' - Brand New

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Emily awoke and found the chair across from her was now empty, the blanket tossed aside. She ran a hand through her hair trying to recall everything that had happened last night before she realised she was naked, apart from her underwear. She frowned. That was good, right? Why was she topless though?

The memory of what happened last night suddenly clicked with her and she tracked back to the nightmare she had had that Jason was angry with her for moving some of his work paperwork when she had been cleaning the house and had started yelling. Spit flying everywhere and how he had threatened to hit her if she ever touched any of his work stuff again. She remembered James rushing into the bedroom, coming to comfort her and how good it felt to be in his arms before she cringed, recalling the mess she had been in. How she had been ugly crying and that there must have been snot. Lots of snot. Crying always involved snot.

"Oh god," she groaned placing her head in both of her hands wanting to die just about now as she then remembered her Grand Finale of, stripping off his t-shirt, he had given her and propositioning him for sex.

When she finally regained her composure, she pulled herself to sit up in James's bed and looked around for the t-shirt to pull back on, finding it neatly folded on the bedside table with a cup of coffee waiting for her. There was also a note.

She picked it up and unfolded it:

"Thought you'd be looking for this when you woke up. You look pretty while you sleep by the way.

I hope I made your coffee how you like it, I'm no barista I know. Sorry.

-J X"

She smiled to herself, slipping on the shirt which was indeed covered in snot, albeit dry and crusty. Reaching across, she picked up the mug of coffee that he had made for her and the heady aroma graced her senses.

Wrapping her hands around the mug of coffee, she was suddenly drawn to the faint sound of singing and running water coming from somewhere. Turning her head in the direction of it, she tuned her ears in more closely and realised that it was James singing in the shower. She had never actually heard him sing before despite him telling her that he was a musician and songwriter and she didn't recognise the lyrics to the song, so realised it must have been one of his own.

For once in her life, she was speechless. His voice was stunning and beautifully haunting. There was so much angst and emotion behind every note, that he really made her believe every word that he was singing. It was then that she realised that he too, knew exactly what she was going through in her life.

Climbing out of bed, mug in hand, she tiptoed closer to the door to the bathroom which she found to be slightly ajar. As she made her way over to the door, she found a black, beaten-up notebook set on the hotel table. A chewed blue biro marking a page. Writing was such a personal experience, whether it be a fictional story or lyrics to a song, there were still elements within into the depths; sometimes dark depths to the inner workings of someone's mind. Emily knew she shouldn't pry, but the attraction to the book was hard to tear away from.

'Only a glance.' She told herself, 'And then put it back and pretend that never happened.'

She took a sip of the coffee that James had made her and she had to admit that despite it being instant coffee, he had done a decent job. The warmth of the coffee from that sip trickled down from her mouth and settled in her stomach, embracing her in an internal hug.