Chapter 28-3

"Tell you what..." She glanced over to Hank, and noticed the other two casual girls had arrived. "Give me ten minutes, then we can go." Sparrow worked like a tornado, clearing the pub of empties and stacking the industrial dishwasher out the back at lightning speed. Racing back through the crowd, she approached Hank. "Can I have a minute?" "Yeah, sure, love. Things are actually pretty much under control." He sounded surprised at the fact, but he was even more surprised by Sparrow's next statement as she explained she was giving notice and requested to finish her shift. "Well, that's a bugger. You've been terrific, love. Best of luck to you." He shook her hand with his meaty fist, then asked, "Hey, before you take off, can you run this bucket of Corona's out to the band? They're out the back in the dressing room." "You mean the storage area?" "Hey, it has mirrors, it's a dressing room. Just leave it outside the door for them, yeah?" "Sure thing, boss." Sparrow accepted the bucket of drinks, feeling weirdly emotional. "Thank you, Hank. You gave me a chance when no one else would. I hope you never stop being that guy." "Ali, if I've learned anything from my many years of screwing up and starting again, it's that second chances can be given or earned, but they're rare. I've been given a couple; I'll always be looking to hand them out myself where I can." "You're a good man, Hank." "Nah, love. Just one who's doing his best." She hugged him quickly with one arm, trying to convey her thanks energetically. People like him are the reason there's still hope in this world. "You're not gonna stay and watch the band? This Caldwell guy has got a bit of an underground following - the indie crowd love him - and he's meant to be pretty good." "Thanks, Hank, but I've got a date." She waved and walked away, already plotting her next moves in her head. Head back to the hostel, pack up my room, head back to Thomas' place, help him pack up, fall into bed again... Sparrow smiled dreamily, picturing their movements. She threaded her way towards the dressing room. Once she made it through the swinging door to their back area, the sound of the pub was dulled. A short corridor led to Hank's office and the dressing room. Quietly, Sparrow placed the bucket outside the door and turned to go find Thomas. The door pushed in as she pulled it open and Thomas appeared. "It's been ten minutes," he said, pressing her against the corridor wall and kissing her deeply. She gasped from the rush of sensations flowing over her skin, as if Thomas' lips contained a magic substance, capable of reducing her to a whimpering mess. His mouth dipped to her neck, finding the soft spot between her collarbones that caused her to fall boneless every time. "Thomas, the band are just on the other side of that door..." "Odin Caldwell? I'm not scared of him." He crept his hands around to cup her backside, drawing her tighter against him. "You should be scared of Hank if you horrify the talent with your promiscuous ways. Oh god, that's good!" She could feel him grin against her palm which he was currently kissing. "Have you missed me?" "More than you'll ever know." She lifted his face and kissed him back, finding his mouth with hers and joining them as one. The heat had begun to build under her skin, the itch that only being with Thomas could soothe. Soon, they'd be back in bed, and tomorrow, they'd be homeward bound, wherever home was. It didn't matter as long as they were together. At some stage, she would tell him about everything, expose herself completely, and the thought didn't frighten her anymore. He loved her, she loved him. They were free-falling together in an updraft of total trust. It was exhilarating. A door clicked behind them, and Sparrow heard a voice say, "Cool beans, the beers are here. Oh, sorry guys, don't let me interrupt." She froze. That voice. It was him. Thomas was blissfully unaware, saying jovially, "Sorry, man, we're just about to leave." As his body pulled backwards, the other man came into view. Sparrow wasn't breathing. It had been five years, and he was completely different, and yet somehow the same. More lines, less laughter around his eyes. When she'd seen him last, his face was smooth and boyish; now it was covered by a thick, hipster beard. He had grown into his body, his shoulders broader, and he seemed more comfortable his skin. All of this she took in with a single glance, absorbing him in an instant. So much had changed, but as his eyes fell on her and widened, she could see they were the same glorious shade of emerald. A jolt slammed through her as their gazes connected, the weight of years and words unspoken electrifying the air around them. His mouth dropped open and he lowered the beers to the ground slowly. The world had fallen away, the years just a memory as he said, "Lexi?" From somewhere a million miles away, Thomas laughed. "Nope, sorry mate. No Lexi here." "It's you, isn't it?" The stranger took a step forward, his gaze never wavering for second as if she might vanish if he wasn't looking at her. "Lexi. My god." This time, Thomas sounded a little annoyed. "You've got her confused with someone else. Her name is Sparrow, mate. Come on, Ali. Let's go." She couldn't move. Her feet were as good as nailed to the floor as she began to shake. The other man closed the gap. "No. Her name is Lexi. Alexandra Carson." "That's not her name." Thomas' fingers closed over her hand, and his uncertainty began to seep through as he beseeched her to agree with him. "That's not your name." Shivering through her shock, she finally found the courage to speak, addressing both the men in the corridor, but looking only at Otis. "Yes. Yes, it is."