Dearest Kit

Chapter Nineteen

   “What time’s Kit getting you?” Dahlia asked, as I sat back down on the couch, putting my phone away. 

   “Around ten minutes,” I explained, looking at my watch briefly. 

   “Are you excited?” Beth inquired excitedly, her eyes wide and expectant. 

   “Yeah,” I smiled, shrugging slightly, “I mean, it’s different, from the first one. I feel like I know what I’m doing more, I know what to expect?” 

   “I get it,” she agreed. 

   “But also, I am so excited to see the film, you would not believe,” I said wholeheartedly. “He knows it’s one of my favourite books ever, it’s important to me, it’s kind of amazing that my boyfriend is in the film.” I stopped talking for a while and twitched my lips, beginning to giggle. “I bet there are going to be some awkward sex scenes though.” 

   “Really?” Dahlia laughed. 

   “Well, yeah, in the book there are,” I nodded, “it’s always quite funny, because I think he gets more embarrassed than me.” 

   “That’s because it’s his naked body on the screen,” she pointed out. 

   “Fair enough,” I said in concurrence. 

   “Is it weird for you?” Beth wondered. 

   “Kind of,” I sucked on my bottom lip thoughtfully, “I mean, of course it’s strange to watch your boyfriend shag some random actress on screen, but you’ve got to remember that it’s just acting, it’s his job. If I get jealous, it means he’s doing his job, it means he’s making his role realistic.” 

   “On a more interesting note,” Sacha cut in, leaning forward eagerly, “what are you wearing?” 

   “Why should I tell you?” I tempted. 

   “Oh come on,” she begged, “please?” 

   “It could be a surprise, when you watch it later.” 

   I often worried as to whether they thought I was being pompous or arrogant, I would hate it if they thought I had changed just because I was dating someone whom was famous. On the other hand, I had to remember what Rumer had said to me, when we met up in London; of course they’re still my friends, but now there’s a rift. None of them can understand what I’m going through, simply because it’s hard to imagine unless you’ve been through it yourself. 

   “It reaches just below my knees and has a kind of wrap over top?” I indicated to my chest. 

   “More delicate than the first one,” Beth assumed. 

   “Prettier,” I nodded, “less harsh.” 

   “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get over the fact my best friend is on TV,” she confessed. “I’ve only just about come to terms with you dating Christopher Ainsworth,” her voice caught a little, “see, even that’s still a little hard to accept.” 

   “Well, I’m sure you will eventually,” I shrugged, “you’re going to have to get used to it, I think I’ll be doing it for a while yet.” My phone vibrated in my pocket, indicating that I had a new text message; it was from Kit, telling me that he was outside, but so were the paparazzi. “I’ve got to go,” I stood up and found my bag, rummaging through it and finding my small makeup bag and compact mirror. 

   I checked my reflection and applied a layer of bright pink lipstick. I made sure my green, tartan skirt was straightened out, the gold zips lined up so that the buttons of my black shirt lined up directly in the centre. I pulled my tweed overcoat on before giving my friends a hug and heading towards the front door. I swapped my regular glasses for a pair of vintage looking black shades, that I’d found in a retro store in central Brighton, before opening the door, knowing exactly what was going to be waiting for me on the other side.