Winning Nia

“Oh, that’s a great idea! Block half the road, why don’t you!” I shouted at the taxi who had stopped in front of me without warning. His passengers merrily climbed out of the car, not a care in the damn world for how slowly they moved. “It’s not like the rest of us have places to be.”

Turning on my indicator, I dragged in a deep breath and tried to relax. The clock said I had thirty minutes, but thirty minutes in Cardiff city centre rush hour traffic meant very little. It’s fine. The studio was ten minutes away in normal traffic. I moved into the other lane and raced away from the asshole taxi driver, willing myself to leave the stress in the middle of the road with him.

I’d been looking forward to this audition for a month. At this point, I didn’t want it, I needed it. Wedding photography was a great filler, and I had my regular gig nights at two local music venues, but it wasn’t enough. I didn’t quit finance and piss my father off just to scrape by each month.

In the last few years, I’d held tight to my camera, even as my father demanded I follow the plan and grow up. When I finished uni, I retired my camera skills to part time to appease him. I followed his plan and hated every single moment of it. Without the filter of a lens, the world seemed so stark. I didn’t want to live like that, trapped in shades of grey, bored out of my mind, waiting for death.

Six months ago, I’d decided enough was enough. I couldn’t live with a part of me missing any longer.

I parked outside the studio and stared up at the building with a furrowed brow. This couldn’t be it. On the outside, it looked like any ordinary industrial estate, complete with a metal garage door and a red steel door. Only the sign gave away the fact a music studio lay beyond the brick facade.

I rechecked my equipment before approaching the building. Partly because I was paranoid something would go wrong, but it also gave me something to focus on. Auditions always made me nervous — not because I didn’t think I was good at my job, but mistakes happened.

This particular audition was worse. It meant too much. My hands shook as I let myself in, and I had to give myself a pretty stern talking to. The instructions said I was meant to meet the band’s manager in the reception area, but I didn’t even know his name. It was all so cloak and dagger and I couldn’t understand why.

I stopped dead in my tracks in the lobby. The interior did not match the industrial estate exterior. Huge metal doors didn’t scream chic modern with marble floors, mood lighting and a polished, smiling receptionist. No way was I still in the industrial estate.

“Prynhawn da. How can I help you?” The pretty receptionist asked from behind her massive glass welcome desk.

Fixing a confident smile on my face and gripping my equipment bag tight enough to hopefully hide the tremor, I approached her desk. “I’m here for the band photography audition.”

She turned to her computer and started tapping at her keyboard. “Nia Thomas?”

I nodded, struggling to keep my eyes on her. There was a wall of framed records behind her. Every major Welsh band had a place up there. I itched to study them closer.

Was Rhiannon up there?

I squashed the thought.

“You can take a seat in the waiting area, while I call to see if they’re ready for you.” She pointed to a corner with a white leather sofa and a coffee table to the right of the desk.

I did as I was told, picking up a music magazine as I went. Mindless reading, exactly what I needed to forget how important the next hour would be for my career.

When I finally bit the bullet at the start of the year, I’d been full of dreams and optimism. Despite my years of plugging away in the music scene in my free time, I naively thought landing contracts with music mags would be easy.

Now, my savings were dwindling, and if I didn’t make some kind of progress soon, I’d not only be faced with asking my father for help, but I’d lose a part of myself.

I’d barely flipped through half the magazine when someone cleared their throat. A woman smiled down at me. Her red hair flowed over her shoulders in waves that I would have been envious of, if I could actually stand having long hair. Mine was cut into a short blonde bob. My hairdresser almost cried every time I returned for a trim because it kept getting shorter.

“Nia?” she asked. Kindness radiated from her, putting me at ease without effort. “Hey, I’m Alys. If you follow me, we can get you set up.” She gestured to the hallway leading off reception.

I blew out a breath as I stood. Time to win the dream job. Do not fuck this up, Thomas.

Multiple doors led off the hallway. All of them had red light boxes above the doors indicating there were at least six studios in this building. Impressive. Only two of them were currently active.

“You can set up now. The guys will be here soon,” Alys said as I followed her into a room.

The recording studio stretched further back than I’d expected. In the control room, a couple of black sofas were lined up against the walls while a sound desk and wall of glass divided the room from the wood panelled studio. Bright colourful rugs broke up the wooden floor and musical instruments were lined up around the edges. You could fit an orchestra in the room and still have room to dance around.

I stopped ogling the space and turned back to Alys. “I was led to believe their manager was a guy?”

Alys nodded. “Oh he is, but Matt’s been a little distracted lately. He tapped me in for meet-and-greets while I’m free.” Alys leaned against the desk, studying me like she might crack all my secrets without a word. “Sorry he didn’t update you.”

“It’s fine. Have you been with the band long?” I asked, distracted but curious. Setting my bag down, I started setting up, laying out my equipment on a free stretch of counter to the side of the sound desk.

“Not that long,” Alys said. I glanced up at the odd note in her voice. She grinned. “It’s complicated.”

My brows rose. “You’re seeing one of them?”

She chuckled as I continued laying out my prime lenses. You never know when you need to switch things up for a narrower 50mm shot.

“Guilty as charged. I spent a couple of months as Matt’s assistant, too. Hence complicated.”

“You don’t work for them anymore?”

“Technically, no. My TV career calls too loudly.” She pulled a face. “Plus, it’s a tad weird to be working for your boyfriend.”

Nodding, I plucked up my camera body and attached my 35mm. “Knowing I earned every opportunity I receive is important to me, too. I get it.” With the strap safely secured around my neck, I held it up to Alys. “Do you mind if I snap some test shots while we wait?”

“Of me?” She blushed when I confirmed but agreed all the same. “Go ahead.”

I snapped some test images to check the light levels. Fiddling with the settings to adjust them to the darkened space, I frowned at the light sources. I could have done with some extra lighting, but every single light was switched on, and all of them were ambient, chill-out lighting. Was this meant to be inspiring?

I lined the shot up, focusing on Alys while blowing out the background. She’d positioned herself perfectly next to one of the spotlights. It illuminated her, while everything else faded to black with subtle hints of gold and lifted the whole image to another level. We chatted about inconsequential things like the fact the studio was surprisingly well hidden as I moved around the room.

Time ticked by unnoticed. I captured her smile and the way it lit her blue eyes. She had a wonderfully expressive face, and I couldn’t help but sink into the process, shaking off my nerves and just enjoying it.

“Red, looking for a new career already?” Someone asked behind me, amusement dripping from their tone.

I lowered my camera and turned to the source of the voice. Craning my neck, I took him in. The guy was over six foot, built, with shoulder length blond hair. Sharp blue eyes laughed at me, and I frowned at the newcomer. Something about those eyes tickled my memories.

And then Dan walked into the room.

My heart hit the floor along with my stomach. I should have known somehow that I was auditioning for Rhiannon.

How many up-and-coming bands did Wales have?

I should have fucking known. It would have gutted me, but I wouldn’t have hung my hopes on this job. I wouldn’t have sent my portfolio in the first place.

“Dammit, Nia,” Dan muttered. His green eyes creased with amusement. “I was all prepared to rub it in. Thanks for ruining my fun.” His lips pursed with an exaggerated pout, drawing a chuckle from my tight throat. He still towered over me, and his auburn hair hadn’t lost any of its shine. The beard was new.

“You’re still shit at betting I take it?” I asked, forcing the words through the lump in my throat. Somehow I managed to keep my face and voice deadpan despite the unpleasant surprise slapping me in the face.

I peeked at the blond again as the pieces clicked into place. Ryan. He pulled Alys into his arms and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. I’d known of Ryan in school, but it was secondary school and everyone knew of everyone in our small Valley’s town.

“Uhm Dan,” I cleared my throat while I searched desperately for the badass who could handle this situation. “He’s not — James isn’t…”

Dan pressed his lips together, his uncertainty clear for me to read. The man’s eyes had always been too expressive.

Backing up a step towards the door, I said, “I think I —”

“Nia!” A familiar lilting voice interrupted me.

I stiffened. My heart pounded with a mixture of excitement and dread. I couldn’t explain the excitement; it shouldn’t have been a factor.

Yes, the reason I would have turned this job down was a man. I never thought I’d be one of those women who avoided her exes with passion, but it had merit. No stress, no reminders of the way he threw you away without a second thought, or how he then strung you along on a sham of a long-distance relationship for a year before ghosting.

Irritation bit through me, and I gritted my teeth against it. I needed to be polite for an hour, and then I never had to see him again. Except you want the job…

Shit.

I hadn’t seen James in years, but I’d done enough internet stalking in that time. I knew what waited for me if I turned around. He’d been a lanky, clean-skinned boy the last time we’d seen each other. Now he was ripped, with black ink flowing down his left arm and his short dark blond hair neatly swept back. He’d well and truly changed.

Unlike me. Aside from quitting my safe job for freelance life, I had done nothing daring. My hair was still the same shoulder-length, light blonde. I’d toyed with dying it brown, but Sophie had talked me out of that disaster waiting to happen. I couldn’t imagine my icy-blue eyes paired with any other colour. My dress sense hadn’t even changed — sometimes I’d throw in a pop of colour here and there, but I was happy with my neutrals. They matched best with my trusty ankle boots.

One minute, we’d had a standing phone date, every night at nine on the dot, and he spent his days distracting me with an endless stream of texts. The next, he vanished. At first, I’d assumed balancing university work and the band was too much for him. So I waited, expecting him to surface eventually. That didn’t happen.

Instead, when he came home for Christmas, he meticulously avoided me. I’d go in the front door of his family home with his sister—my best friend, Sophie—and he’d slip out the back with some made-up story or another. By then, I’d assumed he’d changed his mind about making things work between us. Neither of us had needed to tell his family we’d broken up. The tense atmosphere spoke volumes. I used to love going to their house for Christmas; it was fun and festive there, unlike mine.

I never went back after that. I never wanted to see the pity on his mother's face again. Instead, the girls and I had met anywhere but our houses. We continued the tradition to this day.

Turning around might have been the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. Forget fighting fourteen-year-olds for front row shots at a gig. Gathering the courage to face James Tyler was worse. I forced myself to do it.

Studying his newly filled out, muscular frame as he grinned at me from the doorway, those resentments reared their head. They put a bitter tang in my mouth. So maybe I’d been lying to myself the last few years; I wasn’t over it. And I was definitely not ready to deal with him and the soft, appraising gleam in his gaze.

My eyes lingered for far too long, memorising the new shape of the only man who had ever had a grip on my heart.

“It is you! I was hoping I’d run into you at some point.” James stopped in front of me. His eyes dipped in a lazy perusal of my very basic jeans and Fleetwood Mac t-shirt. My body heated with the ghost of passion past.

I willed the awareness away. “Matt didn’t give you a list of names for these auditions?”

James scratched the side of his neck, a guilty glint shining in his eyes. “Okay, you caught me.”

With the full force of his mischievous eyes on me, I was almost transported back to easier times. Before The Brightside had taken off and taken his cousin with them, leaving him behind, before he’d followed Dan to Glasgow because why not, before he’d crushed me with his silence.

Even after all these years, he had a devastating effect on my body. There was a light in his brown eyes that scared me. Okay, scared wasn’t the right word, more like unnerved. He was looking at me the way he used to look at his guitar: with endless hope.

“When the label asked if we knew any local photographers, we couldn’t not give them your name.” He glanced at Ryan. “Right, guys?”

They all nodded dutifully while their drummer, Jared, wandered into the room with another guy. This one, I definitely didn’t recognise. He tipped his chin to the guys and went straight to the sound desk.

“Did it blow up in your face yet?” Jared asked, pushing past James and heading for the sofa at the back of the room. He dropped onto it, phone in hand and a scowl on his face.

James eyed me. “Not yet.” His focus fell to my T-shirt again. “Does the t-shirt win her any points, Ry?”

Everyone focused on me and I glanced down at the dancing penguin plastered across my chest. “Why? Are you a big Fleetwood Mac fan?”

“Where do you think we got our name?” James asked.

I searched my memory for the information and came up blank. “The Welsh Goddess?”

“Inadvertently,” Dan said as Ryan muttered, “Not quite.”

“Ryan had a thing for Stevie Nicks’s voice,” James explained. “The song Rhiannon helped him find his way back to music.”

Understanding widened my eyes. “So you’re also a fan of Fleetwood Mac.”

Ryan nodded. “Just a little.”

“Shall we start with you in the booth, Ryan?” The sound engineer asked, mercifully diverting everyone’s attention from me. “We still need to lay down the vocals before we can move on.”

Ryan agreed before his eyes fell on Dan. “You’re in charge. Get Nia started.”

James spluttered. “Why can’t I get Nia started?”

Ryan cut him a hard look that cowed James into silence. He walked into the recording room and stepped into a smaller booth which butted up onto the glass of the control room.

I gripped my camera as I turned to Dan. “How do you want to play this?”

“You still want to audition?” James asked, surprise dripping from his tone.

“I’m here, so why not?” At least, right now I still wanted it. Who knew how I’d feel once the shock had worn off and I had time to weigh up the cons.

Dan collapsed onto a sofa, sprawling out on the cushion. “Just start taking photos. I think Ryan wants to review them all afterwards and pick the best ones to send to the label.”

“Jesus, Dan, way to make her comfortable.”

Dan’s brows rose but he didn’t comment. James turned back to me with a harried look in his eyes. If it wasn’t for the uncomfortable situation and the fact it was him, I might have laughed.

“Do you know everyone?” James gestured around the room, not waiting for me to respond. “You already know Dan, of course.” He rolled his eyes at the bassist. “Jared.” He pointed at the thin drummer, who was steadfastly ignoring everyone around him and typing furiously at his phone.

“Stop bugging her! She is not going to answer you,” Alys muttered. Jared’s eyes flicked up at her, but his attention went back to his phone. She shook her head and turned her back to him.

“The redhead giving Jared a run for his money is Alys, the reason we’re all here.”

“We’ve already met, James. I let her in, remember?” Alys smirked at James before taking a seat on a swivel chair. She spun to face the clear glass dividing us from Ryan. He wore headphones and was singing into the microphone. The sound played low over the suite’s speakers but it couldn’t dull the effect of Ryan’s voice. It turned gravely as he worked through an emotional verse, scraping my nerve endings and giving me chills.

“Rob, here, is the magician who makes us sound incredible.” The sound engineer, who’d entered with Jared, glanced away from a desk of complicated dials and nodded at me with a welcoming smile.

“And this completes our tour.” James opened his arms.

I unclipped my bag. “Shall I get started?”

James frowned. “You want to work already?”

“Isn’t that why I’m here?”

I ignored his puppy dog eyes and picked up my camera, focusing on switching out the lenses.

His gaze burned against my skin as he tracked me around the room. It had been a long time since I’d been caught in the grips of his intense attention. If I’d known I would run into him, I might have been prepared. One could dream, at least.

Instead of giving him attention, I got to work. Alys stared at Ryan behind the glass with a singular focus, the love in her eyes clear to see, and I immortalised it in one shot. Ryan’s eyes were open now and fixed on Alys. With the background fading out, it almost looked like they were two lovers separated in the dark.

If his voice hadn’t moved me, the expression of pain on his face would have. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he sang about losing the love of his life. Still, he didn’t miss a single note. It was both heartbreaking and beautiful.

The song ended, and Ryan wiped his eyes. The sound engineer pressed one of many buttons and leaned into a microphone.

“That sounded great, Ryan. I think we can wrap this one up,” Rob said, his cheerful voice lifting the sombre air which had quickly invaded the room.

Ryan nodded and removed the headphones. As he pushed open the door connecting the studio to the suite, Alys sprung out of her chair, threw her arms around his neck, and clung to him. They whispered to each other, their heads pressed close together and their faces wet. I couldn’t resist snapping one last picture before I turned my back to give them privacy.

James watched me with an intense stare. The moisture in his eyes gave me pause. Had he put us in their place in his head? The song certainly had some minor correlations, but it didn’t sound like Ryan had lost Alys on purpose.

James cleared his throat and smiled over my shoulder. A heavy hand landed on my shoulder, and I turned to face the smiling frontman, the nervous energy reigniting in my gut.

“Can I see what you’ve shot so far?” Ryan asked, his eyes on my camera.

The photos felt like an invasion of their privacy. I pulled up the last shot of them. After wrapping the strap around my wrist, I handed the camera to Ryan. His eyebrows rose but he didn’t comment.

I chewed my lips as he and Alys flicked through the pictures. I watched their expressions like a hawk. What I was searching for, I have no clue.

“These are incredible,” Alys whispered, her wide-eyed gaze latching on to mine. “I can’t believe we look like this. I mean, I know we do, but the emotion and — I have no words.” She threw her arms around me in a startling hug.

“Can you send me these?” Ryan asked, his voice soft.

I nodded while I awkwardly patted Alys’s back. Surely she had to let go soon?

James must have sensed my unease, because before I knew it, his hand was burrowing between our bodies and pulling me out of Alys’s grip.

“Alright, Al, let’s not asphyxiate her before she’s finished her audition or taken me back,” James said, his tone teasing. His hand spread against my stomach, pulling me back against his front. I frowned at his words, even as a shiver raced through me at the intimate press of him against me. My body almost sighed, tricked with the memories of happier times. His other arm wrapped around my waist, and he rested his chin on my head, exactly like he used to when we were between classes in school. My breath hitched at the reminder.

I had no clue what to do about it, and it showed, apparently. Ryan chuckled at my pained expression, and Alys gifted me a sympathetic smile, but neither did anything to help.

My brain took its sweet time coming online. Anger rippled through me, but it had nowhere to go.

That’s a lie.

I could have directed it all at the culprit. He deserved it, after all. Yet, something stopped me. It couldn’t have been the job. I was too logical to believe James and I could work comfortably side by side. Hell, I flat out didn’t want that. No, my hesitation had nothing to do with the job, and that was concerning. It meant I actually cared about James’s feelings.

“I can’t work with you wrapped around me, James,” I muttered, the smallest bite of anger coiling around the words.

“I’m pretty sure you’re finished, anyway. Right, Ry?”

Ryan nodded, but the certainty didn’t reach his eyes. “These are brilliant,” Ryan said, a note of understanding in his voice. “But they might not be enough for the label. We should run a couple of tracks and give Nia something to photograph, to be extra sure.”

James slowly released me. His hands dragged across my stomach, retreating, but eliciting another shiver. I needed to get control of my damn body before he developed more ideas. He only stepped away from me once the rest of the guys had set themselves up in the studio.

“Your guitar isn’t going to plug itself in, James,” Dan shouted from the other room, his amusement ringing loud and clear across the space.

Grumbling to himself, he left me and walked into the studio to a round of jeering laughter. Oh yeah, avoiding that pesky box of feelings was going to be so easy. Not.

“If he ever gets to be too much for you, let me know,” Alys said, squeezing my shoulder and dragging my attention from James. There was a serious quality to her voice I hadn’t noticed before. “They can get uber focused. It works for some people.” She grimaced, shaking her head. “It worked for Ryan. I think they forget some women don’t like being chased.”

My eyes returned to the studio and the waiting band. James watched me like a starving man would look at a piece of bread and I had to wonder if it would ever go away.

Did I want it to go away?

Yes, of course I did. It was too complicated to share this city otherwise. And in any case, he hadn’t stuck around before, there was no reason he would now…. All he’d talked about when we were growing up was getting out of our small Valleys town.

I could resist James Tyler.

For half an hour, the band played, racing through their top hits. Thankfully, the lighting in the recording space was much brighter than the control room, and I didn’t have to worry about making do.

For most of it, I ignored James. Or I tried to. It felt like he went out of his way to pull focus from everyone else, and I couldn’t pinpoint how he was doing it. Whenever I’d give him my attention, he was playing his guitar, nothing out of the ordinary. And yet, I could almost guarantee that fifty percent of the photos I snapped featured him heavily.

I had to force my attention back to a smirking Ryan or Dan far too many times to count, but they all kept their lips sealed, which I was grateful for. More for my pride than a need to hide it from James. He knew he was winning. The confident grin lighting up his face said it all.

Once I’d captured enough wide angles of the band, I switched back to the 50mm and focused on them as individuals. It went smoothly until I moved back to James. Something about the closer view made every glint in his eyes and every lift of his lips more intimate. Whether he tugged his lower lip between his lips and fixed me with that smouldering look or let his eyes fall shut, enjoying the music with a small smile curling his lips, it had a devastating effect on my ability to concentrate.

When he opened his eyes, the heat there caught my breath and froze me to the spot. For a couple of moments, we were still lovers, still each other’s confidante. Desire clenched deep inside me, the ache a sharp reminder of what used to be. It also served to break the spell James cast over me with his gorgeous hazel eyes.

By the time we wrapped it up, I was ridiculously exhausted.

“I think that went pretty well,” Ryan said, stepping away from the mic with a reassuring smile. “How do you feel about it?”

I pressed the button to display the shots, recalling an image of Jared in full swing and studied it. I’d caught some light rebounding from the cymbals. It highlighted a melancholic light in his eyes I’d missed back in the control room.

I shrugged. “Pretty good.”

And it was true. I’d been working with bands since I was old enough to enter a venue. I knew my way around a stage. My abilities weren’t in question. But that didn’t mean I could convince a record label to pay me. Didn’t mean I wanted to convince them, either.

Ryan held out his hand for the camera, and I surrendered it with far less hesitation this time. James and Dan gathered to study the shots over his shoulder. Jared hadn’t moved from his kit. He sat typing furiously at his screen again.

Ryan took in the first shot, and his eyes widened. He glanced towards Jared with pinched lips. Something was clearly up with their drummer, but I shrugged it off. I wanted a job, not drama.

“I can see why you’re confident.” Ryan chuckled a few moments later. I didn’t miss the sagging of James’s shoulders. “Email me with your best picks, and I’ll get them sent over. I don’t think we’ll have to do any persuading.” He handed the camera back with a smile.

Ryan left us, muttering about needing food. There was a chorus of positive replies, but I was too distracted by the six-foot one guitarist tackling me in a bear hug. My feet left the ground as he spun me around.

“I knew you’d ace it, Shutterbug.”

That one word struck a match inside me and my body went up in flames. Not the good kind. Memories rattled at their chains.

I hadn’t heard the nickname since he’d cut me out of his life. My dad hated it. It still sent a thrill through me, even if it was accompanied by choking dread now. The last time he’d said it, he vanished the next day.

I pressed my face into his shoulder, his fresh linen scent tickling my nose. For a moment, I relished it and breathed him in. When my feet met the floor once again, he gripped my hand and tugged me towards the studio door, a determined light in his eyes. “C’mon, we need to celebrate.”

“I’m sorry, I have plans.” I shook him off and took a guarded step back.

“Okay, what are you doing tomorrow?” Eagerness vibrated from him, and at any other time in my life, I might have struggled to say no. Once upon a time, I craved his attention. Now that I had it, my feet itched to run.

“Busy, sorry.”

I started packing up my gear, resolutely focused on placing each item safely back into my bag. My skin wasn’t flushed at the feel of James’s gaze on me. He mercifully stayed silent while I finished packing. When I shouldered my bag and said my goodbyes, I didn’t look at him.

Was it cowardly to run? Maybe. Did I care? Hell no.

Strains of music faded away, my breath stilled, and my finger hovered above the shutter. I focused on the shifting lights, watching Tommy’s tense body for tells, as I lined up the shot and waited for him to pull one of his stunts.

He stood poised on top of the drummer’s raised platform, his voice rising over the captivated crowd, his brown locks damp with sweat and plastered to his neck. He met my gaze through the lens and tipped his chin. It was subtle, but I’d been photographing Lovers Knot since their fledgling start almost five years ago. Tommy liked to surprise me with wild shit.

A few years ago, he backflipped on stage. He didn’t plan it as well as he’d thought and ended up falling into the crowd. It was a miracle he didn’t knock either of his guitarists over.

I still got the shot.

Tonight, he was wire-free and enjoying his freedom, prancing across the stage. I would relish showing him those goofy pictures later.

With the flash of a strobe and a swell in the music, he jumped off the platform, kicking his legs out into a flying box split.

While I checked I’d caught the perfect shot, the music rushed in, and I let the crowd’s energy invade my bloodstream. My idea of a perfect night and a perfect job. Incredible music, challenging subjects, and gorgeous pictures.

For a couple of hours, I forgot about James and the job I wished I could accept. There was just me, my camera, and the subject. The guys on stage did their best to hold my attention, shifting against the lights until I had to get inventive, and bantering back and forth until I itched for a tighter lens. But as the night wore on, I struggled to stay absorbed in the moment for the first time in forever.

Sod’s law the band would have to be Rhiannon.

The Cardiff music scene wasn’t huge. Something like one of the few BRIT-award winning bands moving home should have been big news. Why did I not know?

By the time the music wound down, I ached from head to toe, and my mind was a jumbled mess. I needed the job. My pride screamed at me not to turn it down, but how could I accept and remain sane? Working with him day in and day out would hurt too much. There would be no hiding from the past, and I knew myself, there was no way I could avoid reliving the agony of our breakup. It wouldn’t make for a healthy work environment.

While the crowd cleared out, I snagged a stool at one of the small cocktail tables scattered around the edge of the room. It was a modest space, with a narrow stage taking up the bulk of the front wall. Black walls and burgundy curtains were the only decorations, unless you considered a time-scarred wooden floor decoration. A sound booth took up one side wall with a merch stand opposite. Black-painted steel pillars held up the second level, framing the bar at the back of the room.

Maybe I wished my shoes didn’t stick to the floor at the end of the night, but I still loved it. Even if I struggled to connect tonight.

“Alright, show me the goods.” Tommy bounced towards me some time later, on a sweaty cloud of endorphins. His energy, on and off stage, never failed to make me smile.

I hadn’t fared much better on the sweat front. My light blonde hair stuck to my neck, reminding me I was still overdue for a haircut. Thankfully, my fringe was side parting and easy to scrape out of my eyes when it got this unruly.

“This one’s my new favourite.” I held out the camera to him, careful to keep the strap around my wrist.

The image of him sticking his tongue out at a girl in the front row stood out in glorious Technicolour. She sported the best multicoloured pastel fade I’d ever seen, and despite his silly face, she looked stunning against the stage lights. It wasn’t a flattering photo of him, but I relished these moments, winding up Tommy.

“How did you get that from this face?” With wide eyes he pointed at his chiselled, pretty-boy features. I resisted rolling mine, just barely.

“I’ve got far worse of you.”

“Lies!” he shouted. “You would have used it for blackmail years ago.”

“Why would I blackmail you?”

He pushed his damp hair back off his forehead. “Fair point. You would have sold it to Jake for him to blackmail me.” He nodded to the stage where his guitarist tucked his favourite electric into its case.

I shrugged, smiling,

“You didn’t!” His hands clutched at his heart, and this time, I did roll my eyes.

“No, I didn’t, but thanks for the idea.”

“Shit.” He puffed out his chest and summoned a charming smile. “You know you like me better. We might as well buy each other friendship bracelets at this point.”

I ignored his attempt to butter me up and pressed the button to scan through the images, chuckling all the while. They would look better on my laptop, but I would never bring my precious computer into a bar. I’d seen one too many photographers burned by a wayward drink.

“This one’s pretty good.”

Tommy whistled. “Look at that handsome devil.”

I shook my head and skipped to a new image: Jake, grinning at Tommy shit-talking to the crowd.

“What? You don’t think I look fuckable in this one?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Not a thought I want to have about my friend.”

When we first met, there’d been some glimmers of interest, but by the time either of us realised, we’d become pretty good friends. Plus, I learnt how much of a dog he was, flitting through women like a typical rock star in waiting. It fizzled out fast.

“Yeah, but this is me. I’ve seen you projectile vomit after a bottle of schnapps. You can say anything to me.”

I put the camera down with a sigh and glared at my soon-to-be ex-friend. Whenever he wanted something, he reminded me of that moment. My demands for him to wipe the memory continued to fall on deaf ears.

“I’m good.”

“But I’m a struggling artist. I need all the love I can get.” He pouted, going full force with the puppy dog eyes. It was a comical look for such a handsome man. Well, comical to me. Most women would be on their knees by now.

I lined up the lens and snapped the shot.

“Your ego barely fits in this room. I won’t be held responsible for your head exploding.”

“Thank you!” Jake shouted from the small stage where he wound up cables.

“Fine, but I want the photo.” He tapped my camera with the tip of his finger. I pulled it into my body and fixed him with the universal ‘keep your hands off my shit’ look. He held his hands up in apology, but I didn’t ease my grip on the camera. I wasn’t stupid enough to trust he’d never do it again. “It’s going straight to the top of my Tinder profile.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I did not need to know that.”

“Me either. Dude, have some class.” Jake approached us, his cables forgotten in coiled piles at the edge of the stage. “She’s the best in Cardiff. We don’t need you scaring her off.”

“The best? Really?” My voice might have risen a couple of pitches. Best compliment ever.

“As if it were ever a question, Nia.” Tommy fixed me with a reproachful look.

I might have had a few wobbles going freelance. Tommy had borne the brunt of my imposter syndrome on a multitude of occasions.

“Aw guys. Thank you.”

I placed my precious cargo on the table and slid off my stool. Wrapping my arms around their waists, I pulled them both in for a hug. It was a sweet moment. For me, at least. The guys tapped my back awkwardly, their bodies stiff. It reminded me of hugging my brother. After six months of chasing leads and burning through my savings, though, I needed some love from my friends.

“Did you hear the rumour Rhiannon moved back?” Jake disentangled himself from my hug.

As mood-killers went, those words were more than effective. My entire body stiffened, and I stepped back so fast you’d have thought they’d given me an electric shock.

“Can you believe how fast they blew up?” Jake asked, his voice high and his eyes shining. “If four local guys can pull that off, we can too.”

In an overly exaggerated gesture, Tommy slashed his fingers across his throat, his eyes promising pain if Jake said another word.

“Wasn’t I meant to mention that?” Jake’s gaze shifted between me and Tommy.

I sighed. “It’s alright, guys. I know.”

Tommy glanced at me with outrage in his eyes. “How do you know?”

“You weren’t keeping their return a secret, were you?” I eyed him.

“Who? Me? Of course not.” His eyes widened, and his hand fluttered to his chest in a perfect depiction of innocence. Too bad I knew him too well to believe his act. My brows rose. “Alright, I’m sorry. I was concerned about you and I didn’t know how you’d react.”

Would it have helped if I knew? I dragged a hand across my face. I couldn’t say for certain. I wouldn’t hold it against him, though. Misguided as it may have been, he’d only been trying to look out for me.

“Are you going to be alright?”

Would I? It wasn’t like Rhiannon’s guitarist had dumped me before moving to Glasgow and then strung me along for another year before ghosting me. Oh wait, that had happened. We hadn’t argued; he didn’t give me the opportunity.

Sometimes, I liked to let myself believe we’d drifted apart due to the miles between us.

It wasn’t true, and sometimes the lie wasn’t a comfort. It all happened a long time ago. I was an adult now, and over it. I didn’t need an explanation and there was absolutely no reason I should dread running into him.

Yet my gut said I couldn’t accept the job. My bloody dream job.

“I’ll be fine!”

“Why do I feel like I’m missing something?” Jake asked, his head swinging between us.

Tommy shook his head. “Go help the guys load the van, man.”

With an apologetic smile, Jake wandered to the back of the bar. He didn’t look back. I opened my mouth to stop him from leaving, but what would I say? I felt bad he thought he’d upset me; which he had, but he’d done me a favour.

“Do you know why they moved back?”

“Ryan fell for a Cardiff girl. I guess it helps to live in the same city,” Tommy said, oblivious to the hole he punched in my heart.

I wasn’t enough for James. He had never offered to move back for me.

“Remember the band photographer audition I was up for?” I filled him in on my afternoon surprise.

“Shit. So you’re not okay.”

“Define okay. Even if they offer the job —”

“They will.”

“I can’t accept. Can you imagine it? Me trapped in a room with James Tyler for hours on end?” I shook my head. “I don’t care how much I wanted the job, I can’t inflict it on myself.”

“Plus, you’ve moved on to better things, right? You don’t need to spend every day with the guy who couldn’t be bothered to keep in touch,” Tommy said, his charming smile firmly in place. I nodded, but my smile lacked commitment. “I have a better rumour anyway. There might be a job going at the Salamander. A little birdie told me it’s yours if you want it.”

The Salamander was arguably the best indie music venue in Bristol. Housed in a historic building in the centre of town, the floors were old flagstones, the ceiling exposed wooden beams, and the entire space was dissected with steel posts. There was a vibe about the place that attracted greats like Coldplay and Oasis.

Adding them to my roster of venues would be a sweet deal. The bonus would be an additional paying music client. I currently had very few of them and gaining more lucrative contracts had been a slow process. Sloths moved faster.

Still, I hesitated.

“I know the drive can be killer, but think about it, alright?”

Killer was right. Driving across the bridge in all weather, in the middle of the night wasn’t appealing. An hour didn’t seem like much, but when I’d spent two, sometimes three of them crawling around a stage and fighting crowds, the most I was capable of was a ten-minute drive and crashing into bed.

“How long do I have?”

Tommy bit his lip. “A week at best. The manager said they’re looking to make a new hire well before October.”

I wasn’t convinced. “There’ll be loads of talented people lining up for the job who don’t have to commute an hour each way.”

“Think about it.” His hands landed on my shoulders and he shook me gently. “You’re talented. There’s no harm throwing your name in the mix.”

If some of my outstanding invoices didn’t clear soon, I’d have to go for it. The Salamander would pay better than either rock club I worked for, and they’d pay consistently, unlike the corporate photography gigs. Of course, if I really wanted to solve my money problems, I’d suck it up and accept Rhiannon’s offer if it came.

“Besides, you quit accounting because you hated it. Why would you replace it with something else you hate?” he asked, referring to the handful of wedding clients I’d taken on to replace the corporate ones. But that could also apply to Rhiannon. “It could fill the gap if you dropped the wedding jobs.”

Before I could agree, the drummer appeared, accusing Tommy of using his position to get out of manual labour. With a disgruntled frown, Tommy followed Nick into the alley, freeing me from his intense gaze.

The Salamander job had an upside that didn’t involve money. It would get me out of the city. I didn’t care how big Cardiff was, it was not big enough for me and James.

Wandering into the corner shop next door, my gaze landed on a familiar, styled head. My heart sank.

Were chocolate and wine really worth facing him?

Frozen in the aisle opposite, I debated the answer to that question like I was trying to solve world peace. I was tired, so I could skip the wine, but dammit, this was my routine. Every other Friday night, I bought red wine and dark chocolate from the corner shop as my version of a pat on the back for a job well done. I’d started it in uni when I’d landed my photography gig at Axel’s.

I could go without it, but why should I? He was the intruder.

It would set a precedent, send the wrong message. I wasn’t afraid of him; he was just some asshole who’d smashed my heart to smithereens multiple times.

Gritting my teeth, I picked up my wine and my chocolate. With my head held high and my shoulders pushed back, I joined the small queue for the checkout. I put blinders on, focusing on my phone, and acknowledging absolutely nothing around me. The dirty, scarred floor was truly fascinating.

“Nia!”

Shit.

His footsteps grew closer but I refused to turn around.

“Fancy running into you here.”

He stopped behind me in the queue and the itch of having him staring at the back of my head became too much. I turned slowly on my heel, my face set in unaffected lines. He balanced three large packs of crisps on top of a case of beer, a balancing act he hadn’t perfected. The bags started sliding, and I couldn’t help myself, I caught them.

“Thanks.” He grinned and my heart started pounding for an entirely different reason.

“It was bound to happen sometime, right?” I forced my tense face into a smile, or as close to one as I could get when all I could do was stare at him. I placed the packets back on top of the case and stepped back.

“So you knew I was back before yesterday, and you didn’t call? I’m hurt, Shutterbug.”

“You didn’t exactly put out a press release.”

If they had announced their return, I might have been suspicious of the band audition.

His eyes shone with amusement. The sight of it did funny things to my stomach, so I turned around.

James chuckled, oblivious to my gritted teeth. “Damn, Ryan’s normally on top of those things.”

“Gave up your social media mantle, did you?” There, that was better.

“Definitely not! They’ll need to pry the passwords from me on my deathbed.” Mock outrage lightened his voice, and I itched to turn around again, to catch the sly smile I knew would grace his face.

I edged forward in line, watching the person in front of me fumble through an order at a snail’s pace.

“How’s your family? All finance robots like your dad wanted?”

“They’re fine. Rebecca’s a teacher now.”

“Quite a rebellion, but good for her! It was her choice, right?”

I nodded. “Dad was fine with it.”

“Oh yeah? Because teaching’s up there on a par with accounting.” I could hear the eye roll. “He’s riding her to get a headship, right?” His tone was dry, bitter almost. Mine would be the same. My father was not a nice man.

“What else would he do with his time if not harass his children?” I shrugged. He knew it was my normal. I’d escaped it without his help. “Didn’t you hear? Rebecca’s going to be the youngest Headteacher in a generation.”

Rebecca had no interest in the politics that kind of job would involve, yet my dad still droned on and on. I rolled my eyes hard every single time he brought it up. Seeing him only a handful of times in the last six months had saved me from eye strain.

“How have family dinners been since you quit?” he asked with an edge to his voice. “They weren’t the easiest when we were together.”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been to one.”

“And your mother let you?” Shock lifted his voice.

I shrugged. “She didn’t exactly have a choice.”

“Yeah, alright, but the way I remember it, family dinner was a hard rule for Linda.”

“A lot’s changed in the Thomas household, James.” I glanced over my shoulder at him. “Time didn’t stand still while you were gone.”

He winced. “I know, it’s just strange to wrap my head around.”

Silence lapsed and I faced front. I tried not to glare at the guy in front. It wasn’t his fault my ex had a bad sense of timing and miraculously managed to pick my favourite corner shop.

“So what are you doing in this part of town?” I asked, suspicion leaking from my tone.

“I was at Axel’s,” he said, smirking like he had a secret. “They’ve pulled in some class talent, haven’t they?”

I agreed, my voice weak. I wasn’t inconspicuous at those shows. I spent half of them crawling around the stage and the other half balancing on chairs, trying to get the best crowd shots.

The cashier called me forward and I turned back around. Almost there.

“Can you believe it’s been ten years since I played on Axel’s stage? Remember the last one?” If he meant the question to be disarming, he should have picked a different one.

I’d lost my virginity that night. He left me two months later.

I stepped away from the checkout. “Well, I’ll see you another time.” I didn’t check his expression, my focus zeroed in on the exit.

“Wait! Give me a second to pay for these, and we can catch up.”

Despite myself, I turned back to him. I didn’t know what his wide smile and eager eyes meant; I didn’t want to know. Why could I never resist this man? He’d proven he was nothing but a wrecking ball for my heart. It needed to get a clue.

“We could chat about the job.” His face fell a little, noting my hesitation. “Talk smack about the competition? Even though I’m certain it’s yours if you want it.”

My heart squeezed at the thought. He dangled my dream before me with a knowing look in his eyes, and oh, I wished I could accept.

I backed away, shaking my head. “Sorry, I’ve got to get home. Early morning plans.”

The light of memory lit his eyes. I braced myself for his next curveball. “Saturdays on the beach with a camera still a thing?” At my nod, he smiled. “Some things never change,” he whispered, his expression soft, wistful.

When the shop door shut behind me, I was shaking. I’d run an emotional relay in under ten minutes. He’d dragged too many memories to the surface, too many contradictory feelings. He was playing dirty, throwing sweet and painful moments from our past into the mix.

And the timing! What were the chances he’d sought me out?

“Unlikely,” I muttered to myself, startling a woman walking past. I stomped to my car, stopping short of running outright.

It had been ten years. I’d get over the shock and lock down the memories. I might never see him again. One could hope.