Despite thinking that catching Becca in the morning would help any potential confrontation by stopping fatigue from weighing in, I only slept for a few hours and woke up even more exhausted than before.
I checked my phone. Nothing from Ed.
For fuck's sake. It had been less than a day and I was already turning into a clingy girlfriend.
I scooped an extra spoon of coffee into my mug and waited for the kettle to boil.
"Didn't hear you get in last night."
Becca's voice startled me, and I spun around to see her leaning in the kitchen doorway. Although her arms were folded, she didn't seem too hostile.
"Uh, yeah," I said. "I saw the lights were out, so I was quiet."
"How was your trip?"
"It was good," I said, leaving it there. What else did she want me to say?
Sighing, Becca unfolded her arms and straightened up. "I'm sorry I lied to you, Soph. I was just so afraid of history repeating itself. I'd loved Teddy for years, and that night was my one shot with him. A shot that was ruined because he wanted you instead. And you didn't even know him. You didn't even care about him."
The kettle boiled, and I seized the opportunity to pour my coffee while I considered my response, watching the bubbling dark liquid rise towards the rim of my mug.
"I get it," I said eventually, turning around to face her with my hands cupping my drink. "But that's why he was interested. I was something new to him. A convenient option."
"I'm guessing you stopped being the convenient option at one point, though, right? I mean, it was pretty obvious that you were getting cold feet about the articles."
I lifted one shoulder to shrug and kept my mouth shut. What would it achieve, apart from hurting Becca even more?
"Come on, Soph." Her voice shook as she took a tentative step towards me. "Be real with me."
"Don't tell me to be real with you when this whole thing was based on lies."
Becca recoiled, her bright eyes widening. "What the hell, Soph?"
"You thought you knew him. But you didn't. You don't. Nobody knows him apart from the people who spend every day with him. It's easy to portray a celebrity as a hero, and it's just as easy to paint them as a villain. I don't want any part of it. Not anymore."
Satisfied I'd said my piece, I squeezed past her to leave the kitchen, but she caught my arm, coral-painted fingertips clutching onto me.
"Are we seriously going to let a boy ruin our friendship? I forgave you both times you screwed me over. But you won't forgive me for one mistake?"
They say certain scents can trigger a thousand memories, and as Becca's familiar Givenchy perfume drifted across the short space between us, I remembered the day on the Tube when she'd protected me from the rowdy passengers. I remembered her holding my hand as I sat in my therapy sessions. I remembered the night I'd caught her researching OCD so she could understand my struggles better, and how that had turned into a genuine passion to volunteer her support to charities.
She'd been there when I needed her most, and she'd been an unwavering rock during such a dark time in my life.
She wasn't a bad person. We hadn't had a bad friendship. But we couldn't pretend like the cracks were easily fixed anymore. Maybe I had been the one whose mistakes had started to chip away at our friendship, and maybe that was ultimately the reason we found ourselves in this situation now—because I'd driven her into feeling like she couldn't trust me.
But however we'd got here, whatever past mistakes had led us to this breaking point, the friendship had been compromised beyond repair. We could try to ignore it, try to fill in the cracks and hope it wouldn't crumble for good, but that only risked our relationship facing an even bigger collapse in the future.
"It wasn't one mistake, Becca. You kept that lie going for weeks. Would you have ever told me the truth?"
She dropped my arm, her eyes narrowing as defensiveness crept in. "Would it have mattered? You clearly didn't care about me while you were out there. Third time's a charm, I guess."
"Yeah," I said, not rising to the bait. "I guess it is."
*
Even though I'd spent a good portion of the last month cooped up in hotels rooms, hiding away in my own bedroom made me feel like a prisoner. I didn't want to risk running into Becca, but when Gabby forced us all to eat dinner together, I had no choice but to face her again.
For the most part, Gabby filled the awkward silences with chatter about her day. The girl could talk for Britain, and I'd never appreciated it more. But at the first opportunity, Becca latched onto an opening.
"And he was such a dick to me," Gabby was saying. "I don't make the rules. But who cares about that, right? It's always the employees on the front line who get the brunt of it. I hope karma bites him in the arse."
"Karma bites everyone in the arse eventually," Becca said, her eyes landing on me.
Either Gabby didn't notice, or she chose to ignore it. "Let's hope so. And you know what pisses me off the most? He won't be giving me a second thought when he gets home tonight. Yet here I am, whining about him."
"Hm," Becca said. "It's as if you're significant to them at the time, but then they soon forget about you once you're out of the picture."
I set down my cutlery and leaned back in my chair, fixing my gaze on her. "If you've got something to say to me, then say it. Don't drag Gabby into it when she's trying to talk to us about her day."
"I think you should move out," Becca said.
Gabby's mouth dropped open, but I held Becca's ferocious stare. We'd endured plenty of disagreements before, but it seemed like she'd come to the same realisation as me: our friendship was over for good this time.
"I'm not the only one at fault, Becca. You can't just kick me out."
It also wasn't fair to have this conversation in front of Gabby. She'd end up having to choose sides, although Becca must have believed she'd pick hers. I'd been away for nearly a month; perhaps the two of them had bonded in that period. Gabby would have seen first-hand how stressed Becca had become, and maybe she'd taken pity and let the lies slide.
"You'll be fine," Becca said with a shrug. "You've got your money from the articles."
I scoffed. Yes, my dirty money that I'd only earned through a deceptive plan based on Becca's lies.
"That money will last me five minutes in London, and you know it."
"Move out of London, then."
How had it come to this? And how was this being painted as my fault when I'd been doing it as a favour to Becca, under the pretence of a lie she'd fabricated?
"We'll discuss it later. Alone," I said, shooting Gabby an apologetic smile.
She stared at her food, unwilling to engage in the conversation. I didn't blame her. After having such a stressful day at work, coming home to two feuding housemates was the last thing she'd have wanted.
Yet the atmosphere was ruined, and the awkward silence that Gabby had masked earlier now hung over us like a ticking bomb, counting down the seconds until our friendship group lost at least one member.
*
After twenty-four hours away from Ed, my nerves over his silence developed into an obsession. Twenty-four hours wasn't an obscene amount of time without contact, but we'd barely gone two hours in Europe. It felt like days.
When he'd mentioned seeing Lacey, I'd barely given it a second thought. But now I was thinking about it, wondering if they'd fallen back into bed together, like he'd admitted often happened.
We weren't a couple. There was nothing official between us. And even if he hadn't told me about the chemistry between him and Lacey, I could see it for myself—along with the rest of the world.
I could have put myself out of my misery by making the first move, but then I would have officially reached clingy status. And if he really had dropped me, reaching out to him would destroy what little dignity I had left.
Instead, I tried to distract myself by typing out articles that I knew I'd never send. These would have been the articles to share if I'd stuck to the plan—Teddy's real relationship with Lacey, the truth about Lucia Bruno, his history with drugs—and I found it cathartic in my current state of panic.
After finishing, I deleted them all, not willing to risk them getting into the wrong hands when I'd only written them as a personal, therapeutic exercise.
I had no reason to suspect he'd ditched me; it was just Becca inside my head. But, deep down, something felt off. An instinct—and not one I could attribute to my usual anxiety.
Then, just as I was getting ready for bed, an email popped up from Sammie.
Hi Sophia,
We received this tip-off today. I'm surprised it didn't come from you...
Sammie
I saw the photo before I read the headline, my eyes drawn to the amateur shot—taken by someone who was far enough away to remain unnoticed, yet still close enough to get a clear ID on the couple.
Lacey Holland was pressed up against the Novello Theatre's entrance, her name glowing above her, the bright lights providing ample illumination that left no room for misinterpretation.
One hand cupped the base of her throat, long fingers winding around to grasp the nape of her neck. The other clutched a fistful of fabric at her waist. Her own hands pulled at his hair. His hips nailed her to the wall. Her back arched, her chest crushed against the solid planes of muscle hidden beneath a loose black hoody.
Passion. Desperation. Lust.
Two people who knew what they liked and who had gone a month without seeing each other.
And as if I needed any further confirmation, the headline glared at me like a karmic taunt.
RUMOURS SETTLED ONCE AND FOR ALL:
TEDDY STONE KISSES LACEY HOLLAND GOOD LUCK BEFORE HER WEST END DEBUT
***
Thank you for reading :) xx
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Thoughts? Feelings? Theories?