Code of Ethics

I woke up to the sound of Harry groaning loudly next to me, like he hated having to come back to life after a really good sleep. But with the way the sunlight poured through the cheap curtains and seared through our eyelids, there was no way we’d be able to stay asleep.

So I sat up, immediately throwing my hair back into a ponytail to hide the inevitable frizz. For a second, my mind was blank, but then I remembered the night before: how I had unbuckled Harry’s pants, only to have him stop me, reluctantly and breathlessly, because he made the revelation that he didn’t want to have sex in a shitty motel room. I hadn’t wanted to cool down, but I’d understood where he was coming from, and we’d re-dressed and fallen asleep on top of the covers.

“Hi,” Harry whispered from behind me, his curls still spanned across the white pillowcase.

I turned around and smirked at him. “Hey there, Sleeping Beauty.” Stretching my arms over my head, I climbed off the bed and padded off to the bathroom, where I could brush my teeth.

When I came back and sat on top of the comforter, Harry immediately grabbed my arm and pulled me backward on top of him as playfully as he could. One of his hands was resting on the small of my back, keeping me there, and the other was on the side of my face, the tips of his fingers brushing the couple pieces of hair that had escaped my ponytail.

“You think I’m beautiful?” he whispered softly, his green eyes scanning my face like he was reading the words on the pages of a book.

I almost made a snarky remark, but then I could see the emotion looming in his expression, like my opinion on the matter meant more to him than all the magazine covers he’d gotten, all the awards he’d ever get.

So I leaned forward and ran my hand across his chest, tracing the edge of one of his infamous bird tattoos. “Of course I do. How could I not?”

The faintest of pink blushes blossomed on his cheekbones as he leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on my lips. “I missed you, you know. I didn’t like not seeing you and pretending that our relationship was over.”

“Our relationship was over,” I reminded him with a laugh, pulling myself up a little bit so it was less awkward to talk to him. “It just…got fixed. I guess.”

His eyes widened suddenly, like he just remembered something. “Oh, fuck, what time is it?”

I glanced over at the clock and said, “Quarter of eleven. Why?”

The color drained out of his face as he grabbed my shoulders and eased me over to the side so he could pop out of bed. “I’m late to an interview,” he muttered as he raced around to find his shirt and sneakers, both of which he’d refrained from putting back on before we’d fallen asleep on the bed. “The boys are going to kill me, and if the media starts asking questions…”

His shirt was half-pulled down, his shoes slipped on haphazardly, and his hand paused on the doorknob as he turned back to face me. “I’ll just get through this, and I’ll call you later to set up the next time we can meet, okay? And just remember that whatever wonderful things I say about Meri…”

“Are just for show,” I replied, my tone neutral to keep myself from sounding hurt about how quickly he had to rush out the door.

He gave me one last smile, his expression looking like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t have the time to. So he raced to the outdoor hallway and slammed the door shut behind him.

Although I felt so incredibly grateful that I got to spend any time with Harry at all, even if we were sleeping for most of it, I couldn’t help but feel a little sad and abandoned that he had to rush out for an interview. At least he didn’t have to leave me in the middle of the night. That would have sucked way more.

Stifling a yawn, I got to my feet and took a deep breath. The first thing I had to do was look for a flat. Staying in the motel room for much longer was simply not an option, and I knew there was no way Marie would accept me back in the last flat, even if she was willing to direct Harry in my direction. Though, granted, that was probably more that she was taken by his gorgeous green eyes than she actually cared about his and my relationship.

I bought a newspaper from the front desk, earning a kind smile from the man who worked behind the front desk and a comment about how there was a story about an elementary school art show in the Local section that would be sure to warm my heart.

“Thanks,” I granted, giving him my best closed-mouth smile and slipping back out the door.

Forgetting about breakfast, I parked myself in the chair, spreading out the ads on the table, and went through each little block. I had to find the perfect place for myself, one that was in a decent neighborhood without roommates that wasn’t going to break the bank. Because while Harry’s money would take care of some rent for an expensive place, there was no way I could live with myself if I decided I would keep taking money from him to pay for my flat.

Before Marie, I wouldn’t have cared about a roommate. After all, a place that was shared between multiple people would just bring down the cost, but I couldn’t afford having someone learn about my job or my relationship with Harry and kicking me out of the house or ratting us out to the tabloids. Friendships were just too risky.

At the end of my search, I found three places that seemed to describe what I was looking for. Their rents were a little steeper than I had hoped, but there was really nothing I could do about that. Maybe a few more hours at the club would make up the difference.

I sighed and leaned forward, burying my fingers inside my wild hair. All I had to do was call the real estate agents and set up open houses, but I wasn’t sure I had the energy that day. I hadn’t slept very much, since Harry and I had gone to sleep late after our argument and snogging, and my eyelids were starting to feel heavy.

But I couldn’t waste any time. I had to get off my lazy ass, set up the appointments, and get the hell out of the motel room. Taking a nap would just delay my progress and make everything more difficult in the long run.

So snatching up the newspaper and cringing inwardly at the loud sound of crumpling paper that tore through the thick silence so I could see the small type better, I picked up my cell phone from the table next to me and dialed the first number, triple-checking the numbers I’d pressed before putting through the call.

“Hi, I’m calling about an ad you put in the London Gazette about a flat that’s available for rent?”