Hope Begins to Fade

Float Like a Butterfly, Sting Like a Bee

Every part of me rejoiced when I was able to take the Stallyns back to the hotel and avoid the, what seemed to be, inevitable post show drinking.

I couldn't blame the guys, here they were clearly hyped up from what had been an amazing show, and their wives aka the responsible adults had stayed home. The only one who had a partner with him was Brian and it would have been a stretch to describe Steph as a responsible adult. She lived her life around the basis of not being a responsible adult. Not that I was judging her, if anyone was suited to spending half the year travelling and keeping irregular hours it was Steph.

My conversation with Michelle was still playing on my mind when he offered to come back to the hotel with me and the Stallyns. Honestly? I don't think that Matt cared either way if he went drinking with his friends or if he went back to the hotel, relaxed for a bit and then crawled into his bed or my bed as was more likely. He'd done more than his fair share of drinking since Val had passed, I don't think it was high on his list of priorities. Even as he offered though I was absurdly conscious of Brian watching us and all I could think of was that maybe Brian did feel like his friendship with Matt had been replaced. So even though my rapidly escalating crush was screaming in disapproval I insisted that the Stallyns and I were fine to head back to the hotel and that he should head out with the other guys. The fact that I wanted nothing more than to drag him back to the hotel was the best reason I could think of for putting some space between us. Steph offered to come back with me and to her eternal credit she gave a convincing performance of being excited by the idea but she couldn't hide her relief when I turned her down telling her I was tired.

So there I was watching an exceptionally boring television show having just finished an exceptionally good glass of wine in the living area of the suite because I had a cunning plan. I was going to sleep on the sofa. It wasn't like it was a hardship, the sofa must have been stuffed with angel feathers it was so soft and comfy. If I was sleeping on the sofa Matt would go sleep in his own room right? Or he could sleep in my bed. It wouldn't matter either way because I'd be...sleeping on the sofa.

That was my plan and I thought I was a genius. I couldn't see a reason why it shouldn't work. Clearly I was an idiot. The sound of a door opening and closing made me stir in my sleep and I rolled over with a sigh dropping back into sleep because...sofa made of angel feathers. I stirred again suddenly aware I was moving. My eyes popped open even though I was finding it difficult to focus. I was in Matt's arms and I seemed to be far higher from the ground than was comfortable. Things weren't exactly going to plan. He was moving. I woke up pretty quick then.

"What are you doing?" I squealed.

"Putting you to bed, you were asleep on the couch." The hint of a slur in his words told me he wasn't entirely sober. Chances were this was not going to end well.

"Put me down! You can't carry me!" I began to squirm in his arms.

"Sure I can." He kept on walking, I had no idea how he could see, he hadn't turned on any lights.

"No you can't! I'm too big!" I think I've already explained that I'd never be a tiny delicate fairy of a woman. I wasn't fat but I was tall and I had the boobs and hips to match. Tim had once described me as statuesque.

"No you're not. You're a girl, I can carry a girl." He swayed a little as if to prove the lie in his words and the way he lurched had me grabbing him around the neck.

"Be careful!" I shrieked. "Why are you manhandling me when you've been drinking? This is only going to end badly."

"No it isn't," he declared confidently seconds before I gave a yelp of outrage as he bashed my ankle in the doorway to my bedroom.