You Know I'm No Good

Nick and I had gotten closer since I moved in, which was something that I was beyond happy about. It was something that our large age gap had sort of prevented us from doing at any other point in our lives, so it was nice to feel like we were finally getting quality sibling time, as cheesy as that sounded.

It was difficult for us to find a substantial amount of time to hang out on a regular basis, with Nick working all the time, but we made it work as best we could. This usually meant lunch on the weekends and the occasional night out on Fridays or Saturdays. Dinner on weekdays was rare, but I took what I could get.

It was Saturday afternoon, and while I was browsing the internet for a part-time job to occupy my lonely hours at home, Nick flew through the door, waxing on about how he was starving and we should grab lunch. My stomach growled, as if on cue, and I stood from bed and rummaged around for something to wear. As much as I wanted to stay in my sweats, the thought of being papped in my pajamas wasn’t exactly appealing.

We hopped in his car and he took me to a small bistro in Covent Garden where we were seated immediately. I had been looking forward to a laid back lunch with my brother, but between the photographers on the other side of the small gate and the look on Nick’s face, I knew I probably wasn’t going to experience anything even remotely laid back.

He had never been one for subtlety, so I wasn’t the least bit surprised when he interrupted my menu browsing by clearing his throat.

“Harry asked about you,” he told me, not even glancing up from his menu.

“Fascinating,” I said, still perusing myself. The last thing I wanted to do was get in a public argument with my brother about his friend who had hit on me at a party, but apparently Nick had other plans.

“What’s that about?”

I looked up, my face blank. “He tried to get me a drink at an open bar,” I shrugged. “A bit daft if you ask me.”

“Camden…” he warned.

I watched his face, and despite his eyes being hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, I could tell what he was getting at. I rolled my eyes and turned away from him.

“I know him,” he told me.

I sighed in frustration, dropping the menu on the table in front of me and slumping back into the cast iron chair. “You know him,” I began, a slight edge to my voice, “or you know me?”

He didn’t reply, which was just the answer I was expecting.

“For Christ’s sake, Nicholas,” I hissed, lowering my voice when the elderly women at the table beside us shot me a look, “I’m not shagging him. Perhaps it wasn’t clear, but he approached me.”

Nick shrugged.

“I’m not interested in becoming a permanent tabloid fixture,” I told him. “Surely you were aware of that.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

I knew that wasn’t what he meant, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing what he was talking about.

“Then what do you mean?” I asked. “Because I can’t imagine any other reason that I would date an eighteen-year-old boy band member.”

Okay, so I had googled him. One, because I wanted to know what I would be up against when Nick and I inevitably had this conversation. And two… well, because he was proper fit. So sue me.

He didn’t answer. I raised my eyebrows, prodding him.

“Who’s Ben?” he shot.

I leaned back, surprised. I was getting back into the habit of telling Nick everything, but I hadn’t exactly been one hundred percent honest with him about all of the worst parts of New York. I figured it wouldn’t do either of us any good anyway. I was happy to be close to my brother again, I didn’t want to ruin it by telling him about my shitty pseudo-boyfriend and our drug-fueled antics.

“Sorry?”

Sure, Nick had been around his fair share of narcotics; he lived in Primrose Hill for fuck’s sake. But I know that just because he was around him didn’t mean he condoned them, and he sure as shit didn’t want his younger sister doing them. And I wasn’t currently, so I didn’t exactly feel the need to be lectured at some posh restaurant in Convent Garden while the ladies who lunch glared at me condescendingly.

“Ben,” he said slowly. “You must know him, he calls you day and bloody night.”

I glared at him and shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Nick smirked slightly and suddenly I felt like was seven again, being bullied by my big brother. I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest, only adding to the undesirable scenario. I didn’t like being wrong, but I knew Nick was right. I wasn't the kind of girl that a successful young guy should be getting involved with. If he wanted to remain successful, that is.

"Ben is- was my boyfriend," I muttered. "It's a long story."

Nick still looked smug, but I could tell that he wasn't going to push the subject. Not in public, at least. We spent the remainder of our lunch avoiding all topics that had anything to do with Harry, Ben, or New York in general, which made sense because if there is one thing I’m ace at it’s avoiding uncomfortable situations. I knew Nick wasn’t even close to finished lecturing me about my downward spiral of a life, and I was grateful. I suppose I should’ve been a bit more concerned about when and how he’d inevitably bring it up, but I brushed it off.

I figured I’d just burn that bridge when I came to it.