So I Married a Rockstar

Chapter Five

Ch.5: The Best Friend

Jude's loft was on St. Edmund's Terrace, at the top of what had once been an old red brick factory, now converted into eight luxury apartments. A black BMW dropped us off outside the building, and then Jude held open the great wooden door that led inside.

Behind the door was a small lobby, with a stone-flagged floor and white walls. Potted plants brought a touch of colour to the space, and a black-suited doorman stood behind a desk at the far end.

"Welcome home, Mr Scott," he said.

He smiled blandly at me, but didn't ask who I was. I wondered if that was because Jude brought a lot of girls back here.

A polished lift occupied one wall – no sign of stairs anywhere – and on our journey to the top floor, I kept fighting the urge to pinch myself again.

A few days ago, I'd been living in a shitty little flat outside London, with a guy that I hadn't managed to fall in love with, and now I was about to move into a swanky London loft with a world-famous rockstar.

The lift opened onto a short stretch of hallway, with a bare-board floor and walls that were a softer shade of white than the lobby. Carrying our luggage, Jude led me to the only door, at the end of the hall, unlocked it, and then stood to one side so I could go in first.

Tentatively I stepped into the loft.

I'd known it would be bigger than the flat I'd shared with Jake, but I wasn't prepared for how much space there was. The kitchen, dining, and living room were all open plan, with exposed brick walls and a polished board floor like the one in the hallway.

On my left was the kitchen, a neat arrangement of copper-handled navy-blue cabinets, and an island unit topped with a slab of grey marble, that had a sink on one side and a breakfast bar on the other. Padded suede barstools were lined up in front of the bar. Track lighting was set in the ceiling, and to the left of the stools was an oak table with built-in benches. An empty beer bottle still stood on the table, and for some reason that made me relax a bit. It made the place feel more lived in, more like a home than just another property in a millionaire's collection.

Next to the sink was a glass vase of fresh flowers, and the feminine touch seemed strangely out of place. Jude didn't strike me as a flowers kind of guy.

The living area was to my right; a dark blue sectional sofa faced a wall-mounted TV that was almost the size of a small cinema screen. Industrial tripod lamps stood here and there, and three electric guitars were displayed on the wall alongside the sofa. Blown glass lights hung from chains of alternating lengths above the coffee table.

The space appeared to continue around a corner beside the TV, which I assumed led to the bedroom and bathroom.

Directly in between the kitchen and living area was a set of wooden steps with glass-panelled sides, leading up to what looked like a rooftop terrace – above the displayed guitars, the brick wall gave way to an enormous window, but I couldn't see much through it, thanks to all the potted trees, plants, and shrubs.

"It's huge," I said.

Jude smirked. "That's what all the girls say."

"You're hilarious. Is that a terrace on the roof?"

"Yeah. Do you want to see it?"

I hesitated. "Can I see it tomorrow? Sorry, I'm feeling really tired again."

I'd slept for so long on the plane, but did that mean I couldn't get jet lag? I had no idea. Before Vegas, I'd never ventured further than Europe, and even then it had only been family holidays to Spain or Italy.