Page 28 of After Felix (Close Proximity #3)

“Just a bit tired,” I say. “I haven’t been sleeping well,” I confide in Paula, who immediately looks like she wishes I hadn’t.

“Oh dear,” Max says dryly. “How difficult it must have been in your expensive suite with the sprung mattress and fifty-million-count Egyptian cotton sheets. My single at the back of the hotel with a view of the bins was the same.”

I nod graciously. “I’m glad you understand. I know. I’ll take one of these.” I reach out and pluck one of his books off the pile. “And I’ll have a read. That’ll do the trick. Better than a Sleepeaze tablet,” I say to Paula, who is looking utterly scandalised. Connor laughs loudly.

“I’ll make sure they put that on the blurb,” Max says wryly.

The staff starts to bustle about, opening the doors. People flood in, talking loudly, and there’s an excited air about them. I can see a huge queue spooling out past the shop and round the square. All here to see Max. I’m amazed that he isn’t an arrogant twat.

I glance at him—he’s smiling at something one of the staff has said to him. I don’t think he ever could be conceited. He’s not really interested in himself, only in the world and other people. Yes, he’s confident, but he isn’t big-headed at all.

Paula appears, interrupting my thoughts. “Can you summon his audience?” she whispers dramatically.

I do a double-take. “I’m sorry. His audience?”

She nods. “He has a great many fans.”

“And you want me to summon them?” I clarify.

She nods seriously .

When I look over, Max is grinning at me. “Yes, summon the fans please, Felix,” he says happily.

“Well, okay then.” I stand and step up to the balcony that looks over the shop’s ground floor.

I put two fingers in my mouth and give a shrill whistle.

Everyone in the vicinity looks up, and I wave my hands in a come-hither gesture.

“Roll up, roll up. Come see the miracle of the Western world. Star of stage and screen. A legend in his own lunchtime. Blah blah blah.”

When I turn back, Paula is staring at me in horror, while Max looks like he’s suppressing laughter.

After I settle into the chair next to the desk, Max crooks his elbow and makes a drinking gesture at me.

Paula says, “Oh,” in a tone of realisation, and I glare at Max. Game on.

His fans are enthusiastic, to put it mildly.

They descend on him like a horde of locusts.

I marvel at them from my chair as Max smiles and charms everyone.

There’s a lot of laughter and a febrile air of excitement.

I’m not being judgemental because I’ve been giggly myself when meeting a celebrity.

But that was at Comic-Con, and I was meeting Chris Hemsworth. And I repeat, that was Chris Hemsworth.

A voice interrupts my thoughts. “Excuse me. Could you take a photo?”

I smile at the man standing in front of me. He’s holding a copy of Max’s book and his phone. “You want a picture? With me? How lovely.”

“Oh, no.” He wavers.

“With him?” I say, taking pity on him and gesturing at Max.

“Oh yes,” he says, nodding enthusiastically.

“Well, I can try,” I say doubtfully. “Has your phone got a wide-angled lens on it?” He stares at me, and I lean closer in a confiding way. “I mean his head is quite large. Not to mention his ears. Abnormally large. He’s like Dumbo in a certain light.”

Max senses my attention and looks up. I’m glad to see the wariness in his expression.

I smile at him brightly. “Max, let’s have a photo.”

He quickly obliges, putting his arm over the man’s shoulder and listening to something he’s saying with a focused expression and responding in a way that makes the young man relax and laugh loudly.

“Isn’t he marvellous?”

I turn and find a beautiful lady standing next to me. She’s watching Max with a very predatory expression on her face.

I bite my lip. “In a spirit of total honesty, I would have to say no.”

She looks stunned. “What?”

“He never puts his clothes away. He’s an unrepentant tart.” I pause, considering. “Well, slightly repentant,” I say grudgingly.

“But he’s so handsome. And he escaped the hostage situation. That was brave.”

“Did he escape, or had they been subjected to his personality for over three hours?” I seesaw my hands. “Who really knows the truth?”

There’s a choked snort from behind me, and when I look round, Max is grinning at me. It’s a truly wonderful sight, and the woman seems suitably awed. I meanwhile try to dismiss my increased heart rate as being due to my allergy medication.

The morning passes quickly, and I find myself pressed into taking hundreds of pictures.

It’s certainly given me a knowledge of phone cameras.

Just in case I ever go into phone photography as a career.

The queue slowly dwindles as we approach lunch, and I sit beside Max, having been given control of the sticky notes by Paula.

I’m trying not to let the power go to my head while attempting to look important and knowledgeable when Max suddenly stiffens as though he’s had an electric shock.

“What’s up with you?” I ask. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Nothing,” he says in a slightly panicked voice.

My gaze falls on the man waiting next in the queue. He’s absolutely gorgeous. Tall and willowy with long blond hair and a stunning face.

“Shit,” Max mutters.

“Do you know him?” I whisper.

“Oh, erm no, I—” His flinch is visible as Paula moves the queue along and the man slinks up to the table.

“Hello,” I say, smiling at the man. “What would you like written in your book? ”

He grins at me. His eyes are a clear green, and his skin is a warm golden colour. He extends his smile to Max. Max has gone pale and looks like he’s a second away from bolting.

“Hello, Max,” the man drawls. “How extraordinarily precious to see you again. But unfortunately with your clothes on this time.” He presents his book with a dramatic flourish.

“Please could the dedication in my book read, ‘The time spent between your legs, Xavier, was the most sublime moment of my life’.” He pauses as I gape at him.

“Oh, and sign it ‘Love, snookums’.” He turns to me with a very charming smile. “It’s Xavier with an ‘X’.”

I look down at my pen as if it’s a foreign object.

“Oh,” I say faintly. “Well, it certainly sounds like Max should know how to spell your name.” I signal to Paula. “I’m going to take a smoking break.”

“You don’t smoke,” Max says urgently. He grabs my arm as I stand up. “Felix, please let me?—”

“You must have things to discuss,” I say, smiling at him and Xavier. “I can’t contribute much unless it’s a discussion about how you like to stick your finger in along with your cock.”

“Oh my God,” Xavier says. “Has he always done that?”

I shrug. “He’s a creature of habit. Old dogs never learn new tricks.”

Then I leave them to it, making my way out of the shop, aware of a slight disturbance behind me. When I get outside, I exhale a long, deliberate breath. “Shit,” I mutter. “That was so stupid, Felix.”

After seeing Xavier, and then Max’s reaction to Xavier, my mind was swamped with images of them in bed together, and I’d felt sick. And it had been impossible not to notice that Xavier looks a little bit like Ivo. My reaction to walk out had been stupid, and now everyone likely assumes I’m jealous.

But the worst bit is that I’d abruptly realised how much I’d been enjoying the flirty banter with Max over the last few weeks.

When he’d watched me with that old look of intense fascination, I’d felt special somehow.

Meeting Xavier reminded me that I am not at all special.

Nothing like the presence of a pretty blond man to remind me of the fact.

I stare at the street with unseeing eyes. Maybe this is just a hangover. The blond hair threw me. But it’s not like I didn’t know Max had fucked lots of men since we’d split. And I’ve had men of my own. Neither of us took vows of celibacy.

“So, you’re Felix?”

I spin around to find Xavier leaning against the shop door and watching me, his bag swinging from his arm.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think we’ve met,” I say politely. It isn’t this man’s fault that I’d behaved stupidly.

“No, we’ve never met, but I do feel like I know you.” He lights a cigarette as he moves away from the door and offers me the packet.

I shake my head. “I don’t smoke.”

“You said you were going for a smoke break?”

“After knowing Max for so long, I’m afraid I only smoke crack,” I say smoothly.

He laughs, his eyes glinting in the sunlight. “He said you were clever.”

“Who said that?”

He shrugs. “Max, of course.”

“When did he say that?” I ask, bewildered.

“Oh, about five hundred times during the weekend I spent in bed with him.”

“Well, that must have been very lovely for you,” I say in a thankfully steady voice.

He watches me with those pellucid eyes. Clever eyes. “Well, it was nice,” he says in a lazy voice. “He’s a terrific shag as you’d know.”

“Hard to remember,” I say dismissively. “It was such a long time ago. Water under a thousand bridges.”

He chuckles, and I can’t even get angry because he has a lazy charm about him that’s very appealing. “Not really. Not for Max.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, suddenly uneasy.

He scans my face. “I mean that Max is still in love with you. It’s quite sweet, really, that level of devotion. He’s like a slightly untamed puppy.”

“What?” If he’d hit me in the face with a kipper, I’d be less surprised.

He smiles calmly. “Didn’t you know? You must know. ”

“I mustn’t because it’s just not true.”

“But it is. He spent most of the weekend when he wasn’t dick deep in me talking about you.

On and on and on, he went. And then on and on some more.

I heard your name mentioned more in bed than God’s, which is not the usual situation for me when I’m shagging someone.

” He pauses as if to consider that. “Come to think of it, he even mentioned you once while he was actually fucking me.”

“What the hell?” I breathe. “You’ve got me mixed up with Max’s real love. He’s in love with his best friend, Ivo. Always has been. Probably always will be.”

He raises his eyebrows, once again carefully scanning my features. He shrugs. “Maybe you’re right.”

“ I am ,” I say loudly and then moderate my tone. “I’m right, and after all, I should know.”

“Of course you should. I probably just got it all mixed up. I’m such a nitwit.”

“You did get it mixed up. Max must have been talking about Ivo.”

He grins. “Yes, it’s so easy to get the names Felix and Ivo mixed up. They sound so very familiar.” He hefts his bag. “Well, I must be off. This book is far too heavy and probably filled with many extremely boring words, but it’s just the right size.”

“For what?” I say faintly.

“Oh, for propping my window open. The catch has gone on the bloody thing.”

He smiles again, and then he’s gone, his hair swinging behind him, leaving me on a dusty London street with a brain whirling with questions.