Chapter 35: Party, Pt 2
While Ed danced with Charlotte, I sneaked off to the kitchen for some alone time. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, and Ed at least looked like he was enjoying himself, even if it was partially a front.
As for Holly, I could only assume she slid into celebrities' DMs regularly because she hadn't shown any interest in my boyfriend save for polite conversations as a group.
"You holding up okay, Palmer?" Mac breezed through the kitchen door and made a beeline for the alcohol bottles stood next to the fridge.
I nodded from my seat at the table. "Yep. Just needed a few minutes."
"Can I get you anything?" he asked as he poured a generous helping of vodka into a glass.
"I'm good. How've you been, Mac?"
He turned to face me and leaned back against the counter, glass in one hand, the other sliding into his pocket.
"Fine. Thanks." His brow furrowed. "I actually wanted to talk to you about..."
He trailed off as the door opened again and Mike stuck his head through the gap. His eyes bounced between Mac and me.
"Oh. Sorry. Am I interrupting?"
Shaking his head, Mac pushed off the counter. "Not at all. Catch up later, Palmer." He squeezed my shoulder as he passed me, then nodded at Mike before re-joining the party in the living room.
"Got a few minutes, Soph?" Mike asked, letting the door swing shut.
Thumbs hooked into his belt loops, he strolled cautiously towards the table. I lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug and gestured for him to take a seat opposite me.
So much for my alone time.
"Listen..." Mike steepled his fingers on the tabletop, closing his eyes briefly. "What Teddy offered earlier..." His gaze flicked up to meet mine, sincere and honest, and for a second I was transported back to the hundreds of times I'd stared into those deep brown eyes during our time together. "I'm honestly a bit mortified about the whole thing. I clearly completely fucked up with Becca by making that stupid comment to break the ice, and now he probably thinks I only brought up the fundraising to shake his pockets."
"He won't think that. I can't even begin to tell you how much red tape he has in his life, so he doesn't just throw money around. He wouldn't have made that offer if he wasn't genuinely passionate about it."
Mike swallowed and leaned back in his chair, hands dropping to his lap as he glanced towards the kitchen door.
"On the subject of Becca," he said, dragging his gaze back onto me, "I want you to know that I never looked at her in that way when you and I were together."
My stomach clenched. It shouldn't have surprised me that he'd bring it up; apart from the later stages of our relationship, he'd always been thoughtful and sensitive. But it was the first time we'd seen each other since going our separate ways four years ago, and the overt reference to our shared history stirred some uncomfortable feelings.
"And I didn't actively pursue her either," he continued when I didn't reply. The intensity of his stare, like his clear conscience depended on me believing him, rendered my limbs immobile. "I don't know why you two don't talk anymore, but we only reconnected because we bumped into each other at a bar earlier this year. It was a coincidence, but it was fun, so... Yeah."
"You're not the reason we don't talk," I told him. "So you don't need to worry about that."
The corner of his mouth lifted into a strained smile, but then his eyes fell to my fingers resting on the crimson tablecloth. Apprehension clogged my throat, blocking any potential excuse or justification from surfacing. When the urge to reposition my hands nagged at me, I banished it. Trying to hide the ring would only suggest it held more significance than in reality.
Still, now would be a great time for another interruption.
When Mike's gaze met mine again, though, there was no arrogance, or pity, or ill intent in it. I'd seen the way he'd been looking at Becca all evening—the small touches, the pride, the affection—so hopefully he interpreted it the same way as me: an acknowledgement that we could share a memory without needing to bury it.
A good thirty seconds too late, the kitchen door swung open, and Charlotte stumbled inside, laughing, with Ed on her heels. His blue eyes pinballed between Mike and me sitting together, but his smile didn't falter.
One day I'd be able to distinguish the real from the faux, but that day wasn't today.
"Why are you hiding away in here?" Charlotte demanded, propping an accusatory hand on her hip.
"Just needed five minutes," I said. "You finished monopolising my boyfriend's attention yet?"
She flashed me a grin, bright teeth extra white against her bronzed makeup.
"I'm working on cracking him," she said. "Nobody is this perfect."
I laughed when Ed arched an amused brow at me. Charlotte could see through the bullshit, but she had met him before—her own birthday at Escala—and he'd been in his own environment then.
"Give me a hand with these drinks, Mike?" she asked.
Once they'd left Ed and me alone, I reached up to hook a finger in the neck of his shirt, tugging his face down to me. Our lips collided, and his tongue pushed inside my mouth without hesitation, slicking over mine for the briefest of seconds before retreating.
Instant heat bloomed in my core. He remained standing, towering over me, as I skimmed my fingertips over his broad shoulders, along the outer edges of his throat, and up into his hair. Clutching the soft tufts, I angled his face to deepen the kiss, searching for his tongue again, desperate to taste him after spending so long enduring his attractive charm and charisma without being able to act on it.
A velvety moan tickled my lips and vibrated all the way down my body to settle between my legs. I rose from my seat to stand, and our bodies melded together like two magnets. His warm palms bracketed my waist and squeezed my flesh through the thin fabric of my chiffon shirt, but his mouth disengaged from mine.
"I know you've just been talking to Mike, but don't get any ideas about dragging me into a bathroom." One hand left my waist and wrapped around my shoulder to push me down into my seat again.
I scoffed, unimpressed with the abrupt conclusion to a very enjoyable kiss, but at least his joke was a positive step forwards from his initial insecurity. Maybe his own conversations with Mike had reassured him that he had nothing to fear.
"I was actually trying to make the most of our time alone." I leaned back and folded my arms.
"Evidently." He sat down next to me, looping his arm over the top of my chair and brushing his thumb against my shoulder.
"You're allowed to kiss me in public, you know," I said. "I promise I can control myself."
A deep chuckle, far too sensual for my current state of mind, rumbled from his chest. "Don't sulk. I know it's hard to keep your hands off me when I'm so perfect, but—"
I kicked his ankle but couldn't keep my smile at bay. "I take back what I said earlier. If the perfect act means I don't get to kiss you whenever I want, then it's fucking annoying—not hot."
He breathed off a gentle laugh, and then the glint in his eyes faded to a more serious smoulder.
"Were you okay? What brought you in here in the first place?"
"I just needed a few minutes to gather myself and reset. Jokes aside, I don't know how you have the mental strength to keep up the show for such long periods. It's exhausting."
"I've had years of practice. Engaging with people is practically my second job. It's probably weirder for you, though. Various people here who have the potential to make things uncomfortable."
I shrugged. "Everyone's been fine. I just know that I'm representing your brand as much as—"
"Don't worry about what Helen said. These are your friends. That comes before any brand nonsense. If anything, I'm the one who's playing it too safe."
When Charlotte bounced back into the kitchen to announce a karaoke session, I groaned out loud.
"Nobody will force you to sing, Soph, but I have it on good authority that your boyfriend is decent behind a mic."
Ed's lips stretched into a grin as he rose from the table. "'Course I am. I'm perfect, remember, Char?"
*
I settled on the sofa when we returned to the living room, and Ed sunk down next to me, his arm curling around my waist as we watched Holly and Mac bicker over which duet to perform.
"He's a totally different person," Ed murmured under his breath.
"To me, this is him being normal. You got the serious version. We hardly ever see that."
"Hm. You spoken to him much recently?"
I hadn't. Although we'd exchanged a few pleasantries over Whatsapp, we'd not met up since that evening at Gabby's. I missed him, but equally I was worried about his reaction to my new relationship. The circumstances surrounding his one encounter with Ed would inevitably shape his opinion.
"Not really. We cleared the air, but we haven't seen each other since. Just waiting for the dust to settle, I think."
Mac and Holly kicked off an amusing performance of Somethin' Stupid and I found myself laughing along with it, despite my complicated feelings towards them both.
Afterwards, the mic was passed around, everyone having a go apart from Ed and me. We sat in the corner, enjoying the show without partaking, until Charlotte tossed a Celebrations wrapper in our direction.
"Oi, Teddy Stone! Come up here and put us to shame."
Ed leaned back into the sofa cushions, extending his long legs in front of him, feet crossed at his ankles.
"You paying me for this performance, Charlotte?"
"Depends how good you are. No hiding behind autotune here, buddy."
"How dare you." His lips twitched to counteract his dry, offended tone.
Charlotte winked and waggled the microphone at him. For a few long seconds he made her wait, before rising to his feet and taking it from her outstretched hand. He strolled towards the machine and popped open an extra button on his shirt.
As much as he'd spent the evening trying to blend in, this was a lifeline to him. A safety blanket. A comfort zone. I couldn't think of anything more exposing than getting behind a microphone, but it was Ed's second home.
"I get to pick the song," Charlotte said.
"Be my guest," he replied, the picture of confident.
Her eyes flashed deviously as she began to flick through the options.
"How's your falsetto?" she asked.
"Great thanks."
"Your rap?"
"Great thanks."
While the pair of them bantered back and forth, I scanned the room. As usual, Ed had captivated his audience—this time without even trying. Even Becca had her eyes trained on his relaxed figure, though she seemed less amused. Maybe seeing him with a microphone took her back to that night. The night everything changed.
"Are you deliberately bullshitting me so I can't pick you a difficult song?" Charlotte asked.
"Do your worst. I can handle it." Ed grinned yet somehow still managed to look humble about it, like his comment was a playful joke rather than the actual truth.
A few laughs filtered through the group, but Charlotte narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.
"Don't think I haven't noticed what game you're playing. You're on best boyfriend behaviour tonight, all polite and reserved. I've seen you be fun, though, so I know it's hidden away in there somewhere." She craned her neck to peer over her shoulder at me. "Can you grab a salad bowl from the kitchen?"
Confused but trusting her judgement, I did as she requested.
"Right! Everyone, put your phones in the bowl. Our celebrity guest needs reassurance that his wild side won't go viral."
Ed's eyes widened as panic engulfed his face. "Oh, Charlotte, I don't—"
She held up a palm to silence him, then wiggled the container in front of her. "Come on. Phones. Bowl."
With a shake of his head, Mac went first, sliding his phone out of his back pocket and tossing it into the bowl. Ed scratched at the back of his neck as he watched everyone sacrifice their phones, but the embarrassment faded away as our gazes met.
"Not me," I mouthed at him.
For all of Charlotte's banter, she had a good heart inside. I had no doubt this phone stunt was for Ed's benefit rather than hers. Maybe he'd confessed something while they were dancing, and she'd taken the initiative. By removing his biggest threat—a social media scandal—she was providing him a safe space at her girlfriend's party.
I almost saw the moment his guard lowered. After worrying earlier about playing it too safe, Charlotte had given him a chance to prove he wasn't as one dimensional as she'd teased, so he wasn't going to turn it down.
"Well?" He raised a brow at her. "What's my song, then?"
Charlotte wrapped her arms around the bowl and pivoted to face me. "Soph? How can I trip him up?"
I stole a glance at him, just to make sure he was on board with this before I threw him under the bus. His twinkling eyes and subtle nod dared me to try.
So I did.
"Something fast." I smirked and swung one leg over the other as I relaxed into the sofa cushions. "He doesn't know any lyrics apart from his own, so he'll be relying heavily on the screen."
With a triumphant grin, Charlotte spun back to the machine. Ed shook his head at me, then raised his middle finger.
"Hey," I called across at him. "You wanna curse me, use your fucking words."
All eyes shifted onto him, waiting for his response. Nobody had ever heard him swear. Clean language was one of Teddy Stone's trademark characteristics, and not a fake, public-facing trait either, so I thought I'd got the last word.
I was wrong.
"You want to hear me swear, Soph, you'll have to wait until we're in bed later."
Warmth flooded my cheeks, and not only from mortification at his crude retaliation. In just one sentence, he'd caught me off-guard, taken me down a peg, and turned me on. And the smirk of triumph at my speechless response infuriated me.
"Show no mercy, Charlotte," I said. "I wanna see him fucking squirm."
Ed grinned, the microphone hanging comfortably by his side like an extension of his hand. He didn't seem at all worried about his professional abilities being thrown under the spotlight. Did he really have that much confidence? It was fucking hot.
And the fact he'd had the balls to bite back at me in front of everyone was even hotter.
"Teddy Stone..." Charlotte taunted as she paused on a track. "King of clean... Will you please stand up?"
My eyes drifted to her selected song choice on the screen and I released an amused snort. "Nice."
Ed didn't even flinch, and seeing him up there so confident tempted me to press a little harder. He could take the banter, and I loved that my friends got to see a more real side to him.
"Bet you can't get through the whole song without fucking up."
He raised a dark brow at me, and the challenge in his eyes was so sinfully intimate that heat pooled between my legs.
"Oh yeah? How much do you wanna bet?"
"I'm not taking your money," I said. Then I made a point of dragging my eyes down to his lips. "You know what I want."
We had an audience, but it didn't matter. As soon as Ed stepped away from that microphone, his bravado would vanish. Until then, I wanted to milk it.
"Fine. And if I do get through it without messing up, you're going to come up here, get on your knees, and apologise for doubting me."
Our gazes clung, both of us wondering who was calling whose bluff the hardest. It was exactly the kind of demeaning acknowledgement of defeat that he knew I'd hate, and I had to give him credit for having the courage to suggest it in front of everyone.
"Deal," I said.
Ed straightened up, shot me a wink, then raised the mic to his mouth. He loved this. Loved the attention. And for the first time all night, he felt in control.
You're welcome.
I'd met Ed less than a year ago, but in that time we'd shared so much with each other that it felt like much longer. I'd learned things about him that nobody else knew, and we'd formed a comfortable familiarity. But as I sat on that sofa and watched him belt out the lyrics to The Real Slim Shady—fast, clear, without missing a beat and without censoring the explicit language—I saw a side to him I'd not yet witnessed.
Maybe it was the clean and controlled award-winning performer meeting the cheeky and uninhibited twenty-six-year-old lad. I'd never seen the two personas blend together, and I loved that he felt comfortable enough to offer everyone else in this room a rare glimpse into the guy behind the mask.
He still owned the stage, even if the "stage" was just the corner of Gabby's living room. His presence mesmerised his audience, his confidence spine-chillingly hot as he held the mic with one hand and gesticulated with the other, and his smooth voice still gave me goose bumps even when used in a completely different way to his usual music.
Above everything, though, he had talent. I could joke all I wanted about not being a Teddy Stone fan, not liking his music much, and his unfair domination at awards ceremonies, but he deserved everything he'd earned.
I'd been so entranced that I didn't even realise I'd lost the bet until applause clattered around me. My body hummed with arousal. He'd shared something rare with everyone in this room, and as much as I loved that, I wanted to steal him away from them so I could experience something that belonged only to me.
Right then, I'd have done anything the man asked of me. Until his eyes found mine again and a smug grin teased his lips. He held up a bent finger and beckoned me slowly towards him.
Self-preservation and pride kicked in. Not moving from the sofa, I folded my hands in my lap and tapped my foot against the carpet.
A dark glint sparked in his eyes. "Thought you were a woman of your word?"
"Yes, come on, Palmer. Be a good sport and get on your knees for your man."
I slid my unimpressed glare over to Mac, who leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets and an amused smirk on his face. I could guess what was going through his mind.
"He's right, Soph," Charlotte said with a what-can-you-do shrug. "Bets be bets."
When I glanced around, I found everyone watching me.
For fuck's sake.
With an exaggerated sigh, I pushed up from the sofa and ambled towards Ed. As much as I tried to look casual and unaffected, my heart thumped with every step I took, and I couldn't decide if it was in a good way or not.
"Just so you know," Ed said when I paused in front of him, his voice low enough for only me to hear, "I'd have held up my end of the deal."
I tried another tactic.
"I'm just surprised that you want everyone here to see what I look like on my knees."
The amusement in his eyes didn't dim, so either he'd expected that comment or he was pretending not to care.
"The satisfaction I'll get from seeing you kneel for my music is worth it."
So that was what it came down to. Ed loved that I wasn't a fan, but I'd played that card so many times now that he wanted to throw it back in my face. Plus he was in control for the first time tonight, and I knew how he got off on a power shift.
"Fine," I said. "But I'll only be getting on my knees for you once tonight. Sure you want that to be right now?"
His fingertips brushed over mine by my side, gentle and affectionate, but his accompanying words didn't convey the same tenderness.
"I'm sure. Now get on your knees and apologise for doubting me."
I swallowed down the shame and held his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm, as I sank to my knees.
"Sorry for doubting you," I said, loud enough for everyone to hear me, just to continue the charade that I was unbothered by this public humiliation.
When he had the audacity to smirk down at me, though, the temptation to wipe the smugness off his handsome face became too much to resist. Without looking away from his twinkling eyes, I reached for his belt.
And when panic flashed across his features and he swiped to catch my wrist, I knew I'd finally had the last word.
***
Thank you for reading :) xx
***
Hope you enjoyed Part 2 of 4! (Told you the party stuff was long!) In Part 3, we play Truth or Dare. If you were at the party, who would you choose to ask and what would you want to know?