"Dating?" Dave asked, his eyebrows shooting up, a mix of surprise and curiosity in his voice, his gaze fixed on Rhys's slightly flushed face.
"Who are you dating?" Henry chimed in, his gaze fixed on Rhys, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, his voice laced with playful curiosity.
They both asked at the same time, their voices echoing in the otherwise quiet training room, the sound bouncing off the mirrored walls.
"Hey, you wouldn't believe what I saw on his phone," Emmett said, his eyes wide with excitement, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It was from… someone interesting."
"Why? Who was the message from? What did it say?" Dave asked, his curiosity piqued, leaning forward in his seat, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
Before Emmett could answer, Rhys interjected, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice, his cheeks still warm.
"I'm not dating anyone," he said firmly, his gaze sweeping across his bandmates, his expression serious. "We're not even allowed to, remember?"
The contract, a constant reminder of their professional obligations, loomed in their minds, a silent specter in the room.
Five years after their debut, the clause stipulated, no romantic entanglements. It was a rule designed to keep them focused, to protect their image, and to ensure their undivided attention to their music.
Rhys, ever the dutiful member, intended to adhere to it, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him.
Just then, the door swung open, and Tony's voice boomed through the room, cutting through the lingering tension, his voice resonating with authority. "Are you guys done with warm-ups? We'll start in five minutes."
"Yes," they responded in unison, their voices laced with a mix of relief and anticipation, the tension dissipating like smoke.
The next few hours were a blur of synchronized movements, sweat-soaked routines, and the rhythmic thump of their music, the beat pounding in their ears. They practiced with a focused intensity, their bodies moving in perfect harmony, their minds locked on the intricate choreography, the dance steps ingrained in their muscles.
As the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the training room, painting the mirrored walls in hues of orange and gold, Tony announced that they were done for the day.
They were allowed to go home early, a rare treat, a welcome reprieve. But before Rhys could slip out the door, Tony called him back, his voice cutting through the lingering echoes of the music.
"Are you going back to the hotel?" Tony asked, his gaze fixed on Rhys, his expression thoughtful.
"Yes," Rhys replied, glancing at his watch, the cool metal against his skin. It was now 5 o'clock in the afternoon, the city lights beginning to twinkle outside the window. "But I plan to stop by at Auntie's café to buy some snacks for Heather."
Tony nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding. "Okay. Why don't you go to the café first? I'll drive you to the hotel."
Rhys shook his head and waved his hand dismissively, a polite refusal. "No need. I can just take a cab."
"It's better this way," Tony insisted, his voice firm, his eyes filled with a quiet determination. "You might get photographed if you take a cab to the hotel. What if a scandal breaks out before the next release of the album?"
"Ah… You're right," Rhys conceded, realizing the potential consequences, the weight of their public image pressing down on him. "Then I'll have to trouble you, Uncle."
At the café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air, a comforting scent that enveloped them like a warm embrace. Rhys ended up not paying for anything, as Heather's aunt, Marjorie, insisted on treating him, her eyes filled with a warm affection. But before they left, Marjorie gave Tony a surprisingly heavy box, its cardboard sides bulging with contents.
"What's inside the box?" Rhys asked, lifting the box, surprised by its weight, the cardboard digging into his fingers.
"What else, Heather's books," Tony replied, a hint of amusement in his voice, his eyes twinkling. "She asked me to send her a few of her books as she has already read the ones at the hotel."
"How many books are inside for it to be this heavy?" Rhys asked, his eyebrows raised, his voice laced with disbelief.
"I don't know, really. I just filled the box with books," Marjorie said, kissing Tony on the lips, a tender gesture of affection. "Thank you, honey. I'll see you at home later."
With that, they went straight to the hotel, the city lights blurring past the car window, a kaleidoscope of colors against the darkening sky.
When they got inside the suite, they found Heather curled up on the sofa, fast asleep, the book she had been reading resting on her chest like a slumbering cat, its pages slightly crumpled. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated her peaceful face, her lashes resting against her cheeks, her breath soft and even.
Rhys placed the snacks on the coffee table, the paper bag rustling softly, and gently lifted the book from her chest, his movements slow and deliberate.
He was about to fold the corner of the page but decided against it, remembering Heather's near-meltdown the last time he had dog-eared a page, her eyes blazing with mock fury. The girl really treasured her books, he thought, a soft smile playing on his lips.
He instead retrieved the bookmark that had fallen to the floor, its delicate ribbon slightly frayed, and placed it on the page she was reading, closed the book, and placed it on the coffee table, its cover smooth against the polished surface.
"Hey, I'm back. I brought some snacks from the café," he said, lightly shaking Heather to wake her up, his voice soft and gentle.
Heather groaned, pushing his hand away and turning her back to him, her body curling into a tighter ball. This girl… Rhys sighed, placing his hands on his waist, a mixture of exasperation and affection swirling within him.
"Let her rest," Tony chuckled, watching the scene unfold, his eyes filled with amusement. "Where are the books that she finished reading? I'll take them home now."
"Oh, right. I'll get it," Rhys said, lifting the box of unread books and carrying it to the bedroom, the cardboard heavy in his arms. He placed the box on the bed, then gathered the read books, their spines worn and well-loved, and placed them inside the box, the pages rustling softly.
When he was done, he returned to the living room and, before handing the box to Tony, asked, "Shall I accompany you to the parking lot?"
"No need," Tony replied, taking the box from Rhys, his grip firm. "This is much lighter compared to the one I brought in. Then, I'll be going. I have to return to the agency."
"Thank you for the ride, Uncle. Please be careful on your way back," Rhys said, opening the door for Tony, the cool air from the hallway rushing in.
Once Tony entered the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a soft whoosh, Rhys closed the door, the sound echoing in the quiet suite. He went to the bedroom and moved the books from the bed to the closet, creating more space, the closet door sliding smoothly on its track.
Then he gently lifted Heather from the couch, carrying her to the bed and tucking her in, his movements tender and careful, the soft fabric of the blanket a comforting weight.
Instead of resting beside Heather on the bed, Rhys went to the living room and lay on the couch, the soft cushions yielding beneath him. He turned on the television, finding a movie already in progress, the flickering images on the screen a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds.
He didn't know when he fell asleep, but when he woke up, he saw Heather watching him, her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin resting on her knees, her eyes filled with a playful curiosity.
"Hey," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his eyes heavy.
Heather smiled, her eyes sparkling with amusement, a mischievous glint in her gaze. "Hey."
Surprised, he turned around, checking if he had any sleep in his eyes, the remnants of slumber clinging to his lashes, and removed them, wiping his face with his hand. God, so embarrassing…
When he was sure he had removed all signs of sleep, he turned back to her and asked, "Why are you watching me sleep like a creeper?"
He stood up and went to the bathroom sink to splash water on his face, the cool liquid a welcome jolt, then wiped it with a towel, the soft fabric rough against his skin.
"You know that feeling that someone's staring at you but when you look back or around there's no one around? I just wanted to test and see if you'll feel uncomfortable enough to wake up if someone's staring right at your face," Heather replied, a playful smile on her lips, her eyes dancing with mischief.
"Seriously? Maybe I'll do that to you, too," Rhys retorted, grabbing the paper bag with the snacks from the coffee table, its contents rustling softly, and reheating them in the oven, the warm air filling the kitchen.
Once they were warm, he placed the snacks on a plate, the golden-brown pastries arranged neatly, and brought them to the living room, the aroma of warm bread and sweet fillings filling the air.
Heather grabbed the plate and placed it on the coffee table, the ceramic cool against her skin. "Waaahhh~ I could get used to this. You always taking care of me," she teased, her voice light and playful, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Huh, savor it while you can. Once you return home, I won't be looking after you anymore," Rhys said, taking a bite of the french toast, the sweet flavor lingering on his tongue.
"Let's just stay here, then," Heather said, moving closer to Rhys, her shoulder brushing against his, the warmth of her body a comforting presence.
"No way. I'm not even getting paid to look after you. What kind of babysitter does not get paid, huh?" Rhys asked, raising an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
"What babysitter? I am your future wife!" Heather playfully pinched Rhys's hip, her fingers digging into his side, a playful jab.
"What future wife? We are not even lovers," Rhys retorted, raising an eyebrow, his voice laced with playful skepticism. "Besides, you might find some other guy you'll want to marry during college."
"Hhmmm… You're right. But if I can't find that guy, then I'll marry you for sure," Heather said, a sly smile playing on her lips, her eyes dancing with mischief.
Rhys looked at her, unable to believe what she just said, his eyes widening slightly. "Wahhh… What am I, your backup guy?" he asked, his voice laced with mock indignation.
"No. You're my number one guy. You will be the basis of my standard when it comes to guys!" Heather declared, her voice filled with playful conviction, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Rhys laughed, shaking his head, a warm chuckle escaping his lips. "What the hell are you even saying. Just eat your food," he said, ruffling Heather's hair affectionately, his fingers tangling in the soft strands, his touch light and playful.