Ch.6: The Stalker

Taking Elle's advice, Jude disappeared into his bedroom, and remerged wearing another pair of faded, ripped jeans. He still hadn't put a shirt on though, and, honestly, that incredible physique was almost as distracting as the snug boxers. The flame tattoos curling along his hip seemed to ripple as he moved.

Jude walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge. I half-expected him to take out a beer, but he poured himself a glass of OJ instead.

Cautiously, I took a seat at the breakfast bar and waited.

Jude stared down into his juice for a long moment.

"So, here's the thing," he said. "I have . . ." He paused, seemed to search for the words. "Basically, I have a stalker."

"Okay." I quietly absorbed that, while Jude watched me, as if waiting for a stronger reaction. "What kind of stalker?"

I'd heard horror stories about deranged fans breaking into the homes of their favourite celebrities, or attacking them, and in the worst cases, actually killing them. But were all stalkers that bad? Or were some of them just the online troll variety, satisfied with shit-posting from behind the safety of their screens?

"It started as texts and calls, but then I changed my number, so now they send letters instead."

"How did they get your number in the first place?"

Jude shrugged. "I could have given it to a fan when I was drunk. It wouldn't be the first time I'd done something dumb like that."

"You mean like marrying a fan?" I said, giving him a little smile.

Jude smirked back.

Then his words fully sunk in and my smile vanished. "Wait, this person sends you letters? They know where you live?" A bolt of alarm shot through me.

"Loads of people know where I live. It's pretty hard hiding something like that when you're famous."

He had a point, but that didn't make me feel better.

"Also, it's not always here. Sometimes letters turn up at the recording studio, or find their way to a venue where I'm performing, or doing interviews, or getting photos done, anything like that really," Jude went on.

"What kind of letters?" I asked.

"Just usual stalker shit."

"I've never had a stalker, so I don't know what that means."

Jude gave a soft sigh and shoved his curls off his face. "Declarations of undying love mostly, insisting that we belong together, vague threats about what'll happen if they see me with another woman."

My eyes widened. "And you didn't think to tell me about this?"

"Honestly, I don't think about it much. It's not the first stalker I've had, and it probably won't be the last."

"But they're threatening you!"

"Do you have any idea how many threats famous people get? Every week there's something – someone threatening me with court action because I'm the father of their kid, even though I've never even met them, or accusing me of stealing songs that I've never heard, or believing that some of my songs are written specifically about them, or thinking that because I locked eyes with them for two seconds at a gig, it means we're soul-mates, and getting angry with me for not responding. I get people threatening to kill me or themselves because of how much they love my music. I get people threatening to kill me or themselves because of how much they hate my music. If I took every threat seriously, I'd be a nervous fucking wreck."

"This person's never actually tried to . . . do anything to you?"

"Nope. Probably just a fan who can't separate reality from fantasy. There's not much I can do about that," Jude said.

"So I don't need to worry?"

"I'm not worried and it's been going on for four months."

"But you were worried about telling me," I pointed out.

"Because for me, getting threats and weird love letters is part of everyday life. But it's not for you, and it's not always easy explaining how people in my position sometimes just have to suck it up."

"You shouldn't have to," I said.

Jude spread his palms. "Welcome to reality. People have to put up with all kinds of shit that they don't like."

"As long as you're not actually in danger," I said.

A slow smile spread across his face. "Are you worried about me?"

"Yes, actually. I'm sure that's cute to you."

His smile widened. "Kind of, yeah."

"Shocker."

Jude reached across the bar and caught my wrist. His hand was warm, his fingers exerting soft pressure against my skin, and I couldn't help imagining again how it would feel if he grabbed me harder, if he pinned my wrists down while he drove into me. Heat flooded me, and I focused intently on my OJ.

"Do you feel okay with all this?" Jude asked. His voice had dropped lower, brushing against my skin like a caress.

"Now that you've explained it."

I still felt uneasy about the fact that people could issue death threats with no consequence, but like Jude said, the world wasn't fair, and it never would be.

"Great," Jude said, letting go of my wrist. "You want to meet Elle properly?"

"I'm not sure she likes me," I said, still staring into my juice.

"She was just surprised. Come on." Jude snagged the carton of OJ and handed me a clean glass. "She'll like you more if you bring her juice."

He led the way up the steps to the terrace. It was a huge paved area, encircled by a red brick wall that was a little too low for my liking – seriously, someone could fall over that thing if they weren't careful. Climbing vines hugged the wall here and there, while other potted plants and trees were dotted around in a way that managed to look disorganised yet not messy. A brick barbecue occupied one corner, and three sun loungers were arranged in a row in another. The rest of the space was intermittently filled with padded seats, small bamboo tables, and rattan sofas heaped with grey-and-white-striped cushions.

It was lovely, but nothing took my breath away like the view. Immediately surrounding us were other buildings – though none with a terrace like this – but beyond them were the sprawling green seas of Primrose Hill and Regent's Park, acting like a buffer between us and the more built-up heart of London. Over the treetops I could see the city, a vast stretch of glass and concrete, the blocky skyscrapers towering over shorter buildings, the white wheel of the London Eye. The sun was fully up but everything was still cast in a morning glow, making the air seem soft and hazy.

"Not bad, is it?" Jude said.

I tore my gaze away from the view to look up at him. His chocolate curls fluttered in the morning breeze, and my stomach fluttered too.

"When you've finished mooning over each other," Elle said, and I quickly looked away from Jude.

Elle was sitting on one of the sun loungers, her legs stretched out in front of her. She was an inch or two shorter than me, but somehow her skin-tight designer jeans made her look taller, and her silk tank top hung on her lean frame with the kind of elegance that I'd never been able to pull off. She wore her hair long and slightly wavy, like me, but hers was an icy blonde compared to my honey shade, and styled in a way that looked completely casual but had probably cost a fortune.

I offered her the extra glass of OJ and she took it with a genuine smile. "Thanks. I guess we should introduce ourselves properly." She held out her hand. "Elle Reed."

I shook her hand. Her skin was soft as satin, smelling faintly of jasmine, and tiny gemstones sparkled on her nails.

"I'm Camden Harris," I said.

Elle lifted a microbladed eyebrow. "Not Camden Scott?"

"Uh . . ." That hadn't even occurred to me.

Jude came to my rescue. "We haven't talked about that yet. The wedding was kind of fast." He winked at me. "I'm sure she'll change her name soon, though."

"Will she?" I said, fighting back a smile. "You sound very sure of yourself."

"I didn't get to where I am today by doubting myself. Besides, Camden Scott is a better name than Camden Harris." He nudged me. "Go on, try it out."

"Maybe later."

Jude lowered his head and whispered into my ear. "Camden Scott. Sounds good, doesn't it? Camden Scott, Camden Scott, Camden Scoooott."

"I'm not changing anything until our month is up," I said, giving him a little shove.

Elle had been watching us with a faintly bemused look, but her expression suddenly sharpened. "What month?" she said.

Maybe I shouldn't have let that slip. But Jude had said Elle was his best friend, so presumably he would have told her the full story sooner or later.

"Camden freaked out when she woke up and realised we were married," Jude said.

"Understandably," I interjected.

Elle gave me a sympathetic look.

"And we still don't really know each other yet, or even remember our wedding, so we're giving ourselves a one month trial period. At the end of that month, we'll either want to stay married, or we'll hate each other's guts and walk away," Jude said, cheerful as ever.

"Seriously?" Elle said, her eyes flicking between us.

"Seriously," Jude confirmed.

Elle shook her head. "As long as you both know what you're getting into."

I wasn't convinced that I did, but an unexpected current had already snatched me up and taken me far away from the shore I'd always known. I wasn't ready to swim back. I wanted to see where else this current might take me.

"Sorry if I seemed a bit off with you when I first came in. This stalker thing has made me a bit wary around strange women," Elle said.

"How do you know the stalker's a woman?" I said.

Jude smirked and flexed his arm, making his tiger tattoo look like it was moving. "She's right, Elle. I get the guys hot and bothered too."

"I'm sure you do, but statistically you have more female fans than gay male fans, so statistically it's more likely to be a woman stalking you," Elle said.

She rose from the lounger and took a seat at one of the bamboo tables. Jude and I sat with her.

"For the record, because I know there's been a lot of speculation, Jude and I are just friends. Yeah, we were a couple once, but that was a long time ago, and he's still the most important person in my life, but I see him more as a brother now," Elle told me. She wrinkled her nose. "Sometimes it feels weird that we ever even dated."

"Cheers to that," Jude said, lifting his glass in a toast.

Elle reached across the table but stopped just short of touching my hand. The glitter of her bracelet and nails was almost blinding under the sun.

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I spend a lot of time here, but only as a friend," Elle continued. "I'm protective of Jude because I've seen how crazy some of his fans are, but please don't ever misinterpret that as romantic interest because that would be super-awkward for everyone."

"You've got enough crazy fans of your own," Jude said.

Elle grimaced.

Like Jude, she was every bit as beautiful in real life. Her eyelashes were so thick and dark they couldn't be real, but somehow they looked completely natural on her, and her skin was so flawless it almost looked airbrushed, although I noticed the faintest scattering of freckles on her nose that had been carefully edited out of her professional photos.

If I wasn't happy with what I saw in the mirror, I might have felt self-conscious around her.

"Don't remind me," she said.

I stared at them both, so pretty and perfect they almost weren't real, and a sudden laugh bubbled out of my lips.

"What?" Elle said.

"Sorry, it's just, I can't believe I'm sitting here with Jude Scott and Elle Reed. How is this happening?" I said.

Jude promptly reached out and pinched my butt.

"What was that for?" I said.

He gave me an angelic smile. "Just reminding you that this still isn't a dream. You need me to do it again?" His gaze slid down.

Heat flushed my skin.

"Would it feel more real if we got some proper food in? I've got a craving for pizza," Elle said.

"I could eat," Jude said.

"You'll have to put some more clothes on if we're going out," I said. Though it would be a shame if he did. The morning sunlight painted his skin golden, highlighting the shape of his muscles, and brightening his ink.

"We're not. I'm ordering in," Jude said.

"To avoid putting on a shirt?" I mock-tutted.

"I'm not selfish enough to deprive you ladies of the view."

Jude pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. "What pizza do you want?"

"Ham and pineapple," I said.

Jude gave me a pained look. "Really?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"Pineapple doesn't belong on pizza."

"It absolutely does."

"No."

"Yes."

Jude groaned.

"I'm having ham and pineapple too," Elle said, and smiled sweetly. "Just to annoy you."

"You both suck," Jude said.

"Shut up and order our pizzas."