I was told to be one of the top ten laziest actors/actresses in Times magazine, and Jesy would oftentimes go anonymous in social media and attempt to rebuke, making sure that I at least get some good feedback. Then I'd tell her to stop acting like an overprotective mother, and she'd tell me that if she doesn't act like one then who will, then I'd tell her my actual mother will, then I'd cry all of a sudden because my actual mother is long gone, then she'd comfort me, and then go back to being mother's replacement and resume her anonymous comments about me.
The sole reason why I am telling you this is so you won't be surprised when I tell you that the whole morning today, I was just in bed watching reruns of Friends in my laptop instead of going through my lines in the script for Loving You.
At twelve in the afternoon, I decided to work out before eating lunch. And so I changed into my workout outfit - just some leggings and a sports bra - before going to the twelfth floor where the hotel gym is situated in.
"Good afternoon, Miss Thirlwall," one of the coaches greeted me with a smile. And I tried my best to smile back, in spite of the fact that I have finally been recognized and the fact that he insisted on a taking a picture, too, much to my dismay.
When he left, I promptly went to the far right corner of the room, where the treadmills are, then hopped on one after placing my things on the floor beside it.
In the span of five minutes, four people already recognized me, once again much to my chagrin. And one of them even had the audacity to give me their number - as if they're trying to stay in touch with me. And I successfully resisted the earth-shattering urge to reject them straight in the face.
I jogged on the treadmill for thirty minutes, until another fan interrupted for another mere picture with me. And I took that as a cue to finally rest.
"Can I ask you something?" the gothic teenager that took a picture with me a second ago questioned, burying her phone back in one of the pockets of her jeans before looking back up at me with admiration that before I would have found adorable.
I wanted to tell her: No, you may not. But instead, for the sake of my career, I say - with a hopefully-not-fake smile, "Yes, of course, darling."
And as I said that, I prayed that it isn't a stupid question; I prayed that whatever it is, it isn't a question about my love life, or my privacy or anything related to Steve Harrington.
"What's your favorite food?"
Thank you, Jesus.
"Lasagne, sweetie," I answered, looking around and taking note that there are others in the room who stopped whatever they were doing probably to get closer to me.
"Oh, okay," the girl - name's Jane, I think - said. "If ever there's a meet-and-greet, I'll make sure to get you one."
My smile cannot hold out any longer, so I resort to a tight-lipped one. "Thank you, sweetie. But I really have to go."
Then I hurried off, jostling my way out of this suffocating ocean which are the people, not really caring if they find me impolite, until finally, I have reached the comforts of the elevator all alone and without anyone to bother me anymore.
"Christ," I whispered breathlessly, resting my side on the wooden panel of the elevator, heaving deep breaths here and there. "Just when I thought everything's okay now."
XXX
"Well, what did you expect?" I hear munching on the other line and could only imagine Jesy devouring a Musketeers bar. She was still chewing even when she speaks, "To live peacefully now that you're in a place that isn't called L.A.? To eat peacefully - to jog peacefully? You're Jade Thirlwall - the dream woman of every man and woman. You, my dear, Satanic friend, you cannot live peacefully. You signed up for this, you live with this."
"You think I don't know that, Jesminda?" I groaned and rubbed my forehead with my free hand, letting my back rest against the usual beach side bench, observing a stray dog playing with a volleyball.
Just at the sight of the round-shaped figure, the thought of Perrie came into mind, and a small smile broke free.
"Stop calling me that," Jesy scoffed, snapping me out of my thoughts. I hear a little rustling of wrapper and a bump along the way; I imagined her throwing her trash in the bin. Then she continued, "I'm just saying, ever since ... that incident, you're being too ... what do you call that? You - you're not you anymore."
I raised an eyebrow even though the woman on the other line could not see it. "And what is that supposed to mean, exactly?"
"It means that you've changed into something worse."
There it is - the words I have been waiting for Jesy to say. Ever since what happened with Steve, after Mom's passing, I knew that something snapped within me. Somewhere inside my chest, but I couldn't pinpoint what exactly. And Jesy, and Steve, and everybody else at work, they all have been walking on eggshells around me. Especially Jesy, my best friend. I know she's having a hard time trying to pick me up piece by piece and I knew I should help her, help myself.
But I just couldn't. Not when I'm not ready to.
"Did you hear me, Jade?"
I sighed, "Yep."
"So are you not going to disagree with what I said?"
I stayed quiet for a moment, not speaking a word because we both know that it is indeed the truth - I have changed, and perhaps for the worst. But I don't want to talk about it right now. So I quickly changed the subject.
"A girl asked me what my favorite food is," I told her, crossing my right leg over my left as I check my acrylic fingernails, wondering if I should undergo manicure again.
"Jade, why did you leave?" Jesy questioned, and from the way she sounded, it seemed like she'd been holding that question for too long until finally, she burst.
I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth, clenched my fist and placed it back down on top of my knee, heaving deep breaths through my nose as to attempt to keep myself calm and collected.
Then finally I answered, "I just needed a change of scenery."
"Tell me the truth."
Tears are already brimming in my eyes, and I had to bite my bottom lip forcefully so I can focus on the physical pain instead of the emotional one - anything to preclude the tears from rolling down, anything to distract me from the hurt inside my chest.
I spoke up, though my voice cracked, "I just needed a change of scenery."
"Jade, tell me the truth!" Her raised voice caused me to wince and pull the phone away from my ear, and instigated the floodgates of my tears to open up.
I had my phone clutched tightly in my hand, probably suffocating to death if it were to have humane feelings. My bottom lip trembled as several sobs ripped through. Tears have flooded and obscured my line of vision so I had no choice but to close my eyes and begrudgingly feel the metaphorical wrecking ball relentlessly ramming into my chest.
The vivid memory of Steve and that stupid kiss ricocheted against every corner inside my brain, pushing other memories aside as if it was superior and the rest are subservient. I cannot think of anything other than the feeling of his lips against mine. It was more than enough to make bile rise up in my throat, making me nauseated. I had to swallow it down to avoid throwing up.
"Jes," I croaked when I put the phone back against my ear again, "Jesy, this ... this isn't me."
"I know."
I sobbed once more before speaking up again, "I'm not a slut, Jes."
"I know," she sighed on the other line. "God, Jade, I know that. I'm your best friend. I know who you are, and being a slut is not who you are, Jade Amelia, you hear me? Whatever happened between you and Steve will not nor will it ever define who you are, okay? Forget what other people are saying." She was quiet, clearly contemplating on something for a short while, then she asked, "Is this why you want out of Steve's movie?"
I sniffled, rubbing my nose with my free hand. "Kinda. I meant it when I said that I needed a change of scenery though. I needed to get out."
"Please tell me where you are," she implored, her voice strained as she did so, precipitating a surge of guilt inside me. "I'm begging you here. You need somebody there with you, Jade."
"Actually, I, uh," I started, wracking my brain for words to say, deciding that in order to stop Jesy from fretting over my well-being and whereabouts, I would have to tell her about the blonde woman who has been occupying my thoughts since our first meeting yesterday. "I actually found someone ... Her name is Perrie. She ... She seemed cool so I decided to befriend her. I'm actually gonna call her to meet up with me so we can hang out."
Silence filled in before she asked, "Is she trustworthy? You know fans can be deceiving."
I smiled softly at how protective Jesy started to sound like. When she was first introduced to me as my manager, I used to detest her condescending attitude and her maternal disposition. It took me awhile to get struck by epiphany and realize that it all meant that she genuinely cared about me.
So with that in mind, I spared a moment to actually think about Perrie. She seemed alright to me. She knows who I am, but I wouldn't say that she's a huge fan. She treated me like a normal person, and that I am grateful for. She even consoled me last night when I had a panic attack.
There is certainly something about this woman that made me feel like I'm finally not alone in this place anymore.
"She's different," I concluded to Jesy. "So she must be."
XXX
Later that night, I called her, knowing that by this time, Perrie is already done with her shift at the restaurant she works at. A huge part of me is worried that she'll forget about me again, and I would have to walk for thirty minutes to get to her house, tell her the code: happy place, and wait for her to finally recognize me as Jade Thirlwall she met as an acquaintance and not as a celebrity. But the remaining miniscule part claimed that she'll miraculously remember me.
Then she spoke at the other line, "Jade Thirlwall, why do I have your number in my contacts list?"
I smiled at the sound of her voice, but also partly because the huge part of me is correct and the miniscule part is not and will go rot someplace else. I love that she's calm about the fact that a celebrity - and not just any celebrity, but a celebrity that her sister adores - called her out of nowhere.
"Happy place?" I spoke, unsure of whether or not I should really say the code right now.
Then I hear her chuckle. "So we really have met ... Caitlyn told you the code?"
"I had to say it because I'm not sure if you've already forgotten me."
"I was looking for my friend's name but bumped into yours along the way and Cait told me about you," she said. "So, yes, I did. How did we meet?"
"I thought she told you about me."
"She doesn't know how we met."
"Is that so? Well, it's not really a long story, but it's not short either," I trailed off, somehow feeling a bit apprehensive for what I'm about to ask of her but ultimately decided that if I needed a friend, I have to make one. And so, with a short but deep exhale, I asked, "Wanna meet up?"
"Where?"
I shrugged, though once again she couldn't see me. "At your place, maybe?"