Chapter 2

Audrey’s P.O.V

My new assistant was awesome. Elle was her name. She was middle-aged, probably around my mom’s age, but her experience was exactly what I needed to get on track with this new job. I’d worked as a campaign manager before, but never on anything this major. Working for N.T.L. was the opportunity of a lifetime. Running six campaigns for one of the biggest movie platforms in the world wasn’t something to take lightly.

For the past two days, I’d locked myself at home, studying the documents Elle gave me to understand the lay of the land — what had been done before, how things worked, who the key players were.

Oh, not again!

The loud music from upstairs was driving me insane — two days in a row now. I loved rock, don’t get me wrong, but not when it was sabotaging my career. I couldn’t concentrate on anything with head-banging music and people screaming above my head.

I’d finally had enough.

Throwing on a hoodie, I marched upstairs, fury in my steps. The apartment above mine — he’d said. I stormed in that direction and knocked. Then rang the bell. Then knocked again — hard. Finally, the door creaked open.

A girl with pink and purple hair leaned lazily against the frame. She looked wasted. Her eyes raked over me from head to toe, making me self-conscious. Beneath my unzipped hoodie, I was only wearing shorts and a tank top. Not exactly confrontation attire.

“Is Drew here?” I asked, ignoring her stare.

“Why do you ask? And who are you?” she replied with an attitude that immediately rubbed me the wrong way.

I opened my mouth to clap back when a familiar voice interrupted.

“Audrey!” Damien’s cheerful tone cut through the tension as he appeared beside her, eyeing me with amusement.

I pulled my hoodie tighter and tried to smile. “Can I talk to Drew for a sec? Or is this your place too?”

He caught the edge in my voice and turned to the girl. “Go get Drew, will ya?”

“He’s passed out on the couch,” she shrugged. “Poor baby couldn’t even make it to round two.” She winked at me, clearly trying to provoke something.

I rolled my eyes and stepped inside. The place was trashed. People were either passed out or too drunk to notice me. Bottles everywhere. Cigarette smoke. Dim lighting. Chaos.

Then I saw him.

Drew was lying sprawled on the couch like a corpse. Two girls were hovering over him, trying to wake him up — rubbing on him, casually kissing his face. I cringed. The whole thing made my stomach turn, but for some reason, my feet moved toward him anyway.

Damien followed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” came Drew’s raspy voice as I got closer.

Now he wakes up? Great.

“I think she was just about to take you to bed,” Damien said with a laugh, not helping at all.

“I’m… I…,” I stammered.

“My, my, neighbor! Didn’t think you had it in you…” Drew slurred, grinning as he threw an arm around my shoulders. His bare skin was warm against mine.

“Take me to bed then, neighbor!” he smirked, eyes drifting shamelessly down to my legs.

“Don’t get your hopes up, buddy.” I shoved his arm off, resisting the strange comfort it offered. This was not the time.

“I came to talk about the music,” I said slowly, regaining focus.

“What about it?” he asked.

“Can you turn it down? Or maybe just… I don’t know, lower the volume? It’s been two days and—”

His laughter cut me off.

Was he seriously laughing at me?

“Thank fuck someone finally said it,” he grinned.

Wait—what?

Before I could respond, he surprised me further by planting a sloppy kiss on my cheek.

“Watch this.” He winked and wobbled his way across the room, stepping over cables and glass shards like a drunken pirate. When he finally reached the corner, he yanked out a plug.

The music died.

Cue the booing.

“Listen up, people!” Drew shouted, swaying as he spoke.

“My lovely neighbor over there says this party’s over.” He pointed directly at me.

Wow. Thanks, Drew. Now everyone was glaring.

“Thanks, love, for reminding these people — and especially me — that this is not a club, but a home. So that’s a wrap, everybody. Grab your shit and get out. I’d like to take a piss in peace without strangers walking in and out.”

…Well. That was… tactful. I actually laughed.

But hey, it worked. People groaned, but they started packing up and filing out. Within a few minutes, I was standing there alone with Drew.

“Happy?” he asked, amused.

Now that the lights were on, he looked worse — dark circles under his eyes, pupils unfocused. He scratched his head and wandered over.

“How about you take me to bed now?” he grinned.

That grin quickly vanished when I pushed him back and he flopped onto the couch with a surprised thud.

“I meant what I said. Don’t get your hopes up,” I huffed, heading for the door. “Thanks.”

He blew kisses as I walked away.

****

A knock on the door broke my train of thought. I glanced at my phone. 9 PM. No wonder I felt dizzy — I hadn’t eaten all day.

I dragged myself to the door, unsure who it could be. I didn’t really know anyone here, except Elle — and she wouldn’t show up unannounced this late.

When I opened the door, I was surprised to see two now-familiar black-haired boys standing there. Damien was grinning and holding something that resembled a casserole dish. Drew stood beside him, looking… nervous? But smiling, nonetheless.

It had been over a week since the party incident, and I’d done a decent job avoiding him.

“Uh, um, hi guys,” I managed, clearly caught off guard.

“Hello, love!” Damien chirped, handing me the dish.

Drew gave a soft, awkward, “Hi.”

“Oh. Um. Thanks, I guess!” I laughed, still unsure. “Please, come in.”

They stepped inside slowly, eyes scanning the place.

“This is nice,” Drew muttered under his breath, like he hadn’t meant for me to hear.

He lingered a beat longer, taking in the space — the clean counters, the soft lighting, everything in its place. It was basically the same layout as his own apartment, just one floor apart, yet it felt like stepping into a different world. No empty bottles. No passed-out strangers. No half-sliced limes stuck to the floor.

For a second, he looked like he was trying to remember what it felt like to live like this — without chaos trailing behind every footstep.

“Thanks,” I said, placing the casserole on the counter.

“Would you guys like to stay for dinner? I was just about to throw something together.”

“Sure!” Damien replied cheerfully.

“Yeah… okay,” Drew added, quieter.

“We already brought dinner, so don’t worry about it,” Damien said, gesturing to the casserole.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t eat that,” Drew said, laughing as he flopped onto the couch.

“Why not? I poured my heart into it!” Damien whined.

I eyed the casserole. Honestly, Drew might have a point. It did look suspicious. And I was a picky eater. Drew got up and wandered over to the fridge.

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” he said, peering inside. “I’m not a great cook, but I’m not hopeless either.”

“Yeah, he makes sandwiches,” Damien said, deadpan. “That counts, right?”

“Please, sit down, you’re guests,” I said, laughing as I gently nudged Drew away from the fridge — he was holding a single mushroom like it was alien life.

“How do you eat this thing? Raw?” he asked, making a face.

“Ew. No. I cook it,” I chuckled. “Want me to make something with it? I promise it’ll be good.”

“Sure,” he shrugged, diving back into the fridge. “D.D., beer?”

“Hell yeah!” Damien grinned, catching the can Drew tossed him. “Where’s the opener, love?”

“Um… I don’t think I have one.” I grabbed the nearest thing — a lighter — and popped the caps off like a pro.

They both looked at me like I’d just performed a magic trick.

Drew put a hand over his heart, smiling. “A woman after my own heart.”

“And she can cook from scratch,” Damien added.

“And she smokes,” Drew said, flicking the lighter once before placing it on the counter.

“That, I sadly do,” I admitted, tossing him the pack. “Help yourself.”

“What makes you think I do?” he asked, already pulling one out.

I know you’re a chain smoker, Drew. I remember when you video-called me after a concert and tried to light a cigarette while holding a gasoline-soaked rag — and I screamed at you to stop.

But I couldn’t say that now. So I settled with:

“I can smell a smoker. Smoker here, remember?” I pointed at myself.

“And he’s the worst of us,” Damien added. “Chain smoker, 100%.”

I laughed and got back to cooking, slicing the mushrooms, seasoning them, and tossing them in the oven. Then I filled a pot with water and set it to boil. Drew and Damien had moved to the balcony, cigarettes in hand.

“Any preferences, guys?” I asked, stepping out with my own smoke. “Dietary restrictions?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Damien raised a brow.

“You saw what D.D. cooked for you,” Drew said, grinning. “If we can eat that, we can eat anything.”

“Good,” I smiled, exhaling a puff of smoke. “Then you’re in for a treat.”