"So, I was thinking..." Ed dragged out the sentence with hope yet trepidation.
"Mm..."
We lay in bed together, my head resting on his chest and his arm draped over my back. It almost felt romantic, but we'd not yet had that conversation so for now it fell firmly into the category of too-exhausted-to-move-post-sex cuddling.
"How would you feel about joining me on my next photoshoot?"
"Berlin?"
"Yeah. They want something really sexy, and you're really sexy, so..."
I chuckled against his chest, the gentle thud of his heart lulling me into a relaxed state. "I don't think it's me they're after."
He pinched at my shoulder playfully. "I'll be there, too, obviously. I was thinking about your tattoo and how much it means to you. I want it immortalised."
"Okay, and now I'm thinking about where that tattoo is and how you're planning to immortalise it."
"Anonymously," he said, ducking to kiss my forehead. It was another romantic gesture, and perhaps that was why Ed quickly shifted gears back to sexual. "Or maybe I just want a sexy photo of you to keep me company on lonely nights."
"Hm," I said, not convinced. "I know I've not yet said no to any of your kinky suggestions, but that does not extend outside the bedroom."
"It won't be kinky," he said, completely missing the point. "It'll be tasteful. If you decide to do it. And like I said, anonymous. Unless you do want your face associated with it, but I'm guessing not."
"You guess correctly."
"Your decision anyway. I don't want to pressure you. I've only recently started stepping outside the family-friendly brand myself, so I know it's nerve-wracking. Especially if you're not used to being in front of a camera. In fact, forget I suggested it. It's a stupid idea. They'll have other models on hand who I won't need to worry about traumatising."
Whether his intention or not, I got stuck on the last sentence.
"You'd have to do it with someone else?"
"Maybe. Their photographer's vision is of me with someone else. It's always a bit awkward, though, when you're shooting with a stranger and having to get close and personal with them, holding the same uncomfortable pose for minutes on end while trying to make it look natural."
"Are you trying to make me jealous so I'll agree to it?"
Tension stiffened the muscles beneath my head. "No. God, no. Sorry, that wasn't at all what I was trying to do." He paused. "Why? Are you jealous..?"
"No."
"Okay. Good."
"But let's say, theoretically, I did agree to it..."
*
Berlin was our last stop on the tour. To commemorate it, Ed proved that the bedroom in his jet did actually exist and that he wasn't bluffing about taking my Mile High virginity. And Mark didn't disturb us, so that was a bonus.
Helen read me the riot act, though, as we travelled together to the photoshoot. Even without Mark's habit of interrupting us in compromising positions, Ed and I hadn't exactly tried to hide that we were no longer just friends. I had no doubt that he'd received the same lecture from Helen, but as he was in a different car, I got the full force of her warnings without him there for protection.
I understood her concern. After all, I hadn't signed that NDA, and she knew how hard Ed had fought for that. In her eyes, I was a bad influence. A commoner seducing the king into making poor choices. First the night in the club with Lacey, then the cock-up in Amsterdam, and now a saucy photoshoot together.
By the time we arrived at the studio, I was sick of the sound of her voice. The woman clearly had a lot of pent-up feelings about me. And the worst part? Her instincts about not trusting me were right, so I couldn't even take the moral high ground.
Luckily, the assistant who helped me to get ready for the photoshoot was much friendlier. She talked me through the process, reassuring me I was more likely to feel bored than embarrassed. To her knowledge, I was a random member of Teddy Stone's team, stepping in to help him out after his first-choice model had bailed.
"I see why he picked you, though," she said, admiring my tattoo. "It's beautiful. And what a thing to put on your CV, huh? Modelled alongside Teddy Stone? Wow."
I tossed her a polite smile. "I guess."
I had every intention of keeping this anonymous. As much as I understood her point, the harsh reality was that anything positive to come out of this photoshoot would be overshadowed by the sexuality of the photo—no matter how tasteful.
The assistant was right about one thing, though. What a long and tedious process. Ed knelt in front of me, topless, with one hand pushing up my top to reveal the tattoo, and the other hand curled around my ribcage so that his bracelet was on full show.
It probably looked great on camera, but the angles required were awkward and unnatural—so much so that I didn't feel even the slightest bit turned on when Ed's mouth rested below the tattoo.
"You doing okay up there?" he asked during a brief pause.
"Fine," I said.
"Not too horny at the sight of me on my knees in front of you?"
I chuckled. "Sorry, but not at all."
The photographer experimented with different approaches, and I changed my top a couple of times when he decided that a black and white picture would work well. Considering I'd done nothing but stand still, my body ached when we finally finished. It was all worth it when we caught a glimpse of the raw files, though.
Nothing about the photo looked awkward or unnatural. The muscles in Ed's back rippled as he knelt in front of me, his bicep huge as his arm bent to hold up my top. That famous bracelet lay flat next to my tattoo, centimetres away from the full lips that rested beneath the cursive font. Although my face was out of the frame—I'd remained adamant about that—my fingers were nestled in his hair to give the illusion of intimacy.
Knowing what I knew now about the logistics of creating the end photo, I wouldn't have had a reason to be jealous of Ed enacting it with a random model. But if I hadn't experienced the process first-hand, and I'd only seen the finished result, then I would have definitely been rattled. Not that I'd admit it to him—he didn't need his ego stroking—but without the guilt of Becca looming over me, I could at least admit it to myself.
"You look incredible," Ed murmured in my ear, fingers brushing mine. "I can't wait to take that top off you for real when we're back at the hotel."
And although I might have felt nothing during the shoot, that quickly changed.
*
Helen's warnings be damned, every second Ed wasn't working, he was in my bed. Or vice versa. I'd lost count of how many times we'd had sex—not to mention how many different ways we'd done it. Slow. Fast. Rough. Gentle. Kinky. Vanilla.
My body begged for a break, in desperate need of some recovery time, but the pleasure overruled the pain whenever I thought I'd reached my limit.
Over a short period of time, Ed had mastered my body with such a cool confidence that I felt completely at ease with everything we tried. There was a reason my one-night stands left so much to be desired—quite literally. You can't get to know a person's tastes and turn-offs in the space of one evening. Even when dating someone, it takes time to earn the trust required to admit your darkest fantasies.
But when you start off as friends, you know you're not going to be judged. And you've waited so fucking long to get in each other's pants that the burning attraction overpowers any potential hesitations.
Our return to the UK loomed over me, though. It was easy to keep up this arrangement when going from hotel to hotel together. Back in London, it would be different. We'd be outside the sexy bubble we'd created for ourselves. Would we need to define our relationship in order to legitimise it? Did I even want to do that?
Life would have to carry on. I didn't know what that would look like for either of us. I'd started this friendship to get close to a famous popstar. But the closer I got to him, the less I saw him as a celebrity. That didn't mean I forgot all about his status—that would be impossible given how many precautions he had to take every day—and it came back to me as a harsh reminder whenever I dared to think about a potential relationship.
We wouldn't be able to go on dates. Not real ones, anyway. He'd have to keep his distance in public unless I decided I didn't mind having my face splashed across every gossip site on the internet—and after seeing the way the internet treated Lacey, how they criticised her appearance or claimed she wasn't good enough, I wanted no part of that.
When it came to meeting family, that would have to be planned like all of his other activities. It wouldn't be a case of hopping on a train together. Ed would be accompanied by multiple other strangers—strangers to my family. And he'd mentioned that the team had vetted me, so would they also have to check out my parents, Steve, and Faye? Shit. Fuck knows what they'd find on Faye, courtesy of the delightful company she kept.
Not to mention I would have to be okay with millions of other girls declaring their love for him on a daily basis. Maybe I'd become immune to it, or maybe it would start to piss me off over time. Would I turn jealous or insecure whenever he went away? Would he grow bored with me once the initial novelty of dating a non-fan wore off?
The only time this relationship would feel normal would be when we were alone inside a bedroom. And would that be enough?
It had to be, because despite the unconventional journey I'd taken to get here, I wanted to try. If that meant making sacrifices, then I'd make sacrifices.
I wasn't prepared to give him up. Just like an obsessed fan, I thought about him constantly, imagining a world where Teddy Stone was mine.
*
The first hint that something was about to change happened when the car pulled up outside my flat. Ed didn't get out to walk me to the door—for obvious reasons—but he also didn't lean across to kiss me goodbye, either.
"Enjoy a sleep in your own bed," he said.
I almost made a comment about how I'd trade my own bed for another night with him, but I refrained. His smile suggested nothing was wrong, but I knew him better than that now. He couldn't trick me with his stage persona like he did with all his fans—not when I'd become so familiar with the real personality that lay beneath it.
Something was up. If he'd suddenly got cold feet now we were back in reality, I wasn't going to make a mug of myself by attempting to continue the charade.
"You heading home or to your hotel?" I asked.
"Hotel probably. I need to make a stop first. It's Lacey's opening night, and I promised I'd wish her good luck."
I bit back the automatic request to pass on my own well wishes, deciding that would be weird when we'd only met once.
With a final smile and sweep of his body to commit it to memory—after days of enjoying his lean figure, those solid muscles were now hidden beneath a loose black hoody—I slipped out of the car and trotted up the steps towards the front door. Facing Becca was only marginally worse than leaving Ed, and I steeled myself for the confrontation as I shuffled through my keys to find the right one.
Silence and darkness greeted me as I stepped into the hallway. It was late, but I'd expected the girls to still be up. Perhaps it was better to face each other in the morning, though, when we weren't as tired. Tiredness bred impulsivity, and I didn't want to make the situation even worse by either of us saying something we didn't mean.
I couldn't get comfortable in my own bed, and not just because it lacked the quality mattress and sheets that I'd enjoyed in the various hotels. I was lonely. Lonely and worrying.
Two articles. That was all I'd achieved. Yet it still felt like two too many. And the money in my bank account—the money I'd been desperate for prior to leaving—felt dirty. Like I'd earned it illegally.
In some ways, that didn't seem too far from the truth.
***
Thank you for reading :) xx
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Do you think Soph is over-thinking things and everything is fine? Is it her guilty conscience making her believe something is wrong? Or could she be right...?