Chapter 30: Chat

"...And congratulations are in order. Your latest single, Friends, continues to break records every week. Is that a lot of pressure to live up to for future music?"

Light from the TV provided the only illumination in my otherwise pitch-black bedroom as I watched Ed enrapture the audience on Jimmy Richardson's chat show, the duvet pulled up to my chest like a protective cocoon shielding me from the outside world.

He looked delicious in a light grey three-piece suit, but it wasn't his appearance that hooked me the most. It was the way he relaxed into the bright red sofa, one arm draped over the back of it, long legs crossed at the ankles. A picture of ease and confidence. So natural. As if he belonged there.

Yesterday evening he'd fucked my brains out, then made love to me. This morning he'd bantered with Helen but shown me a sensitive, tender, and vulnerable side. Tonight he sat on that sofa, under the glare of studio lights, the picture of laidback yet reserved. Despite this being a totally different side to him, it still seemed so real. Probably because it was real. Second nature. Just like when he got on a stage.

"Of course I'm blown away by how well the song has done," Ed was saying. "As long as I continue making music that people enjoy, that's enough success for me. You can't get distracted by pressure or by constantly trying to better yourself. I love what I do, and I'll continue doing it for as long as fans love it, too."

My heart swooned. Was it any wonder so many people adored him?

So many people adored him.

I'd once taken immense pleasure in being one of the few who didn't, in being the exception. At some point that had changed. Now part of me resented the idea of sharing him.

"And why do you think this song has resonated with so many people?" Jimmy asked.

Ed's lips tipped up. "Well, I think you've just said it yourself. It resonates. People relate. It's vulnerable. It's raw. It's full of emotion. Heartbreak is something that anyone can go through, no matter who you are. I'm not exempt from that simply because I'm in the public eye."

"Yes, you are in the public eye, and you have gone through this heartbreak, yet you're immensely private about your romantic life. Nobody knew this girl existed." Jimmy laughed to soften the brutality of that statement. "Do you think that's another reason why the song is so popular? It's a rare insight into part of your life that you don't usually share?"

If Ed found that question as annoying as I did, he didn't show it. His smile was easy and good-natured, his eyes soft and tolerant.

"Probably. But that comes back to the relatability aspect. Just because I don't share my relationships, it doesn't mean I don't hurt from them."

A murmur filtered through the audience: appreciation bleeding into sympathy. The beautiful Teddy Stone, famous bachelor, was hurt. Which bitch did that to him?

"You don't share your relationships." Jimmy nodded, glancing down at his cards. "Except the latest one. Is this a turning point? In all the time we've known you, you've never had a girlfriend. Not a public one, anyway. And presumably, if this isn't an unfair assumption, not a long-term one, either. Then, in the space of a few months, we're treated to a revealing song and a new partner. Sophia, is it?"

"Yes." A muscle in Ed's jaw tightened, and his fist briefly clenched against the scarlet cushions.

If Jimmy noticed, he didn't comment, which suggested he hadn't picked up on the reaction. Judging by the intrusive nature of his questions thus far, he didn't seem like the type of host to ignore tell-tale body language.

"So, has something changed?" Jimmy pressed.

Ed shrugged casually, all previous tension now non-existent. "Not particularly. I like to share some parts of my life, while also being sensitive to anybody I'm involved with. Not everyone is comfortable being in the public eye."

"But Sophia enjoys it?" Jimmy grinned, and Ed obliged him with a gentle smile in return.

"I think my fame is an inconvenience to her rather than something she actively enjoys."

Amusement tickled my lips. That might end up being the most honest thing he'd say all night.

"And what does she think about the song?"

Ed cocked a brow at Jimmy, seemingly irked by that question. It was such an overt reaction, not concealed like his previous irritation. Either he'd not seen the question beforehand and it had caught him off-guard, or he felt no need to hide his feelings about it.

"She loves it," he said, his voice the epitome of laid-back. "But what girl wouldn't love listening to her boyfriend singing about how much he adored his ex?"

Laughter rumbled through the audience at his tongue-in-cheek response. Jimmy chuckled along politely, but the side glance he threw Ed suggested he wasn't impressed with his dodge.

"So she's not a fan of the song?"

"I didn't say that."

"You're not saying much." Jimmy winked playfully, but by this point we could all see the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "The song is a record-breaker, you've won awards for it, and yet you don't seem to like talking about it."

"That's correct. I don't like talking about a girl who hurt me when I have a different girl by my side who makes me incredibly happy. A girl who has stood by me as a song about an ex soared through the charts. A girl who joined me at an awards ceremony where she had to listen to that song multiple times. A girl who, somehow, despite the constant reminders that her boyfriend was hurt by someone else, still supports me and encourages me... Even though all anyone wants to talk about is the person who came before her."

My fists turned white as they clutched the duvet, my heart thumping in my throat. The audience clapped politely, and Jimmy nodded along with a sympathetic smile. Even Ed still looked calm and collected, but my own emotions fizzed inside me until I couldn't decide if I needed to cry or kiss him.

I'd never want anyone knowing I was the inspiration behind that song, and Ed had lied on primetime national television to protect me. Then he'd sung my praises and said I made him happy, even though we both knew the opposite was true when he wrote those lyrics.

For months I'd refused to accept that he was no longer just a friend to me, that he'd stopped being just a friend eight months ago in Europe. Back then, I'd justified it on the basis that I couldn't fit in with his fame. That I didn't want to be scrutinised on social media. That I'd hate to watch girls throwing themselves at him constantly.

But now I saw a glimpse of it. A future where I did fit in, where I was already being scrutinised, and where the female attention just made me want him more. We had something good. Something special. Now the fear wasn't around how I'd cope with him; it was how I'd cope without him.

*

As the credits rolled, I took out my phone and opened our chat. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, trying to decide if this was a good idea or not. He was a fantastic actor; I'd seen that first-hand so many times. And this whole girlfriend charade was only supposed to be a cover-up to protect him from Hattie's opportunistic team.

I might be on a totally different page to him. If I was, I had to accept that. Something felt real, though, and after everything we'd endured together, we'd promised each other honesty. That started with courage and trust.

Me: You up?

Like always, the dots began bouncing almost instantly.

Ed: Yes. How you feeling? Still sore?

Emotional turmoil had temporarily distracted me from the physical pain, but his reminder brought the ache back to my limbs.

Me: Don't worry... Still wearing the reminders of how much you broke me

Ed: I know you're joking but I much prefer you fixed

Me: No good to you broken?

Ed: I suppose your chat is still decent

The smile fell from my lips as I remembered the reason for reaching out.

Me: Speaking of chat, can I come up and talk to you?

Ed: Sure

The corridors were quiet as I navigated my way to his suite, passing only a couple of officers from the Residential Security Team. He met me by the lift with a gentle smile that sent my heart racing. Even though I knew the interview had been recorded hours earlier, it was still strange to see the instant change from a fitted three-piece suit to grey sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt.

"I'll try to get your card reprogrammed," he said as we stepped into the lift. "Hopefully Mark and Helen can make an exception now that..."

He trailed off and the suggestion hung awkwardly between us. This was my chance to latch onto an opening, but I had a prepared speech in my head, and I didn't want to detour from it in case it derailed my whole approach.

"I watched your interview," I said.

A tired sigh drifted between his lips. "Yeah, me too."

That amused me for some reason, and a few of my nerves settled.

"Do you often watch your own interviews?"

With a smile, he shook his head. "Nah. He asked a couple of questions that really irritated me, so I wanted to check how visible that was."

"Not that visible," I said.

"You noticed, though?"

"Yeah, but I was studying you," I said.

In my rush to reassure him, I didn't think my words through properly. I swiftly back-pedalled.

"I mean... I obviously have inside knowledge. So I was more in tune with you."

For a few long seconds his eyes stayed on me.

"Hm." The soft acknowledgement came as the lift reached his floor.

"I wanted to talk to you about Costa Rica," I said, working to keep my tone light as I followed him across the small landing.

"Yeah. Sure. What about it?"

I paused as he pressed his finger to the scanner. Barely twenty-four hours had passed since we were last here together, and yet nothing about it felt familiar. This was unchartered territory for me, with no banter to hide behind.

Once in the suite with the door shut, I plastered on a smile that looked nothing like how I felt inside.

"If I pick you as my guest of honour, does that mean we can fly in the private jet?"

Ed took his time placing his card onto the coffee table, his back to me as my question lingered between us. When he straightened up and turned around, he slipped his hands into his joggers' pockets.

"No. The tickets are commercial. First class. That's the same whoever you take. They're already booked."

"I want to take you." I forced out the words before I lost my nerve.

Ed barely reacted, simply standing there staring at me with that relaxed look on his face. I didn't want that relaxed look. I wanted the real him—the real reaction to my vulnerable confession.

"Don't feel obliged, Soph." His words were soft, like he thought I was asking out of pity.

"I don't feel obliged. I want you there because you're the only person I want to share it with. You're the person who knows the most about it and what it means to me."

His face didn't change, and now I knew for sure that he was putting on a front with me. I was being shown a barrier, just like Jimmy and the rest of the world had tonight. And I fucking hated it.

At the same time, I could hardly blame him. I'd spent weeks showing him a barrier, too. Determined to avoid this very predicament I now found myself in, I'd forced distance between us. Why should he now believe I'd had a change of heart?

Spurred on by the potential rejection, I laid out all my cards on the table for full transparency.

"And I don't want to do this fake dating bullshit anymore because—"

"That's fine. We can talk to Helen tomorrow and call it off."

Too fast. The response had come far too fast, like he was expecting me to say it, and like he agreed. My heart plummeted. All the signs were warning me away from this conversation. His standoffish body language. His prepared replies. Everything suggested that I was about to be rejected like every other girl who'd asked him out before.

"Okay," I said quietly. "Okay. Sure. Well, that was it, really."

"Soph, wait." His fingers curled around my wrist as I turned to leave.

When I spun, his brows had pulled together, a crack appearing in his poker face.

"Why do you want me to come to Costa Rica if you don't want us to date anymore?"

I sucked in a deep breath. "I didn't say I don't want us to date. I said I don't want to do the pretend bullshit anymore."

His hand dropped from my wrist, blue eyes widening as his lips parted. He understood now. And if he wanted to act like he didn't, it was too late. I'd know he was pretending.

"Seriously?" His voice cracked, the first sign of emotion since I'd walked in.

"If it's not glaringly obvious by how terrified I look right now..." I forced a laugh.

"How you're feeling isn't always obvious."

I bit my lip and stared at the carpet, before eventually lifting my eyes to his. "Even last night?"

He threaded his fingers through mine and led me over to the sofa, pulling me down to sit beside him.

"Okay," he admitted with a sheepish smile. "I could tell how you felt last night. But I assumed you'd want to brush it under the carpet. Complicated feelings and all that."

"Yes, well, I'm trying not to be so scared."

"What are you scared of?"

I lowered my voice, ashamed to admit it when I knew he'd instantly rebuke me for it.

"That I'm not good enough for you. For Teddy Stone. And I'm not being facetious when I say your name like that. You're Ed, but you're also Teddy Stone, and I have to be with both versions of you. And if we were to do this for real, then we're not going to have Helen dictating every appearance to ensure I don't screw up."

Hurt flooded his face. "Soph... I don't care if you do screw up. People screw up all the time. We don't have to be perfect just because we're in the public eye—"

"You have to be perfect. It's your whole brand, Ed. You're the perfect guy. How can I ever be good enough for perfection?"

His head dropped below his shoulders, hand squeezing mine. "But you're saying you want to do it anyway?"

I shrugged. "I'm tired of pretending that my feelings for you aren't real. That they're just for show, to convince other people. Because they are real, and yet what we have currently isn't, and that fucking hurts me."

"It hurts me, too!" His flaring eyes lifted to meet my own, but then he sunk back into the sofa and closed them, his hand still not leaving mine. "I know that's why you pushed me away. Why you picked a fight with me and said you wanted distance. I know because I did exactly the same thing earlier this year when we first started working together."

I looked down at our intertwined fingers and ran my thumb over one of his knuckles.

"Until I started working with you, I don't think I truly appreciated just how intense your life is," I said quietly. "All these people trying to make money from you, all the girls declaring their love for you... I felt like I'd be sharing you with the world."

"And now you don't?"

I huffed out a short laugh. "No, I still feel that way, but it's also made me realise how strong my feelings for you are. I can accept it now because the most important thing is that what we have between us is real. I've had a taste of life in public with you, and yeah it's scary but I've dipped my toe into it and can build on it. And then I watched that interview just now, and everything you said about me... I wanted it to be real."

"Maybe the narrative wasn't entirely factual, but my sentiment was real. Apart from Mark, you are the only person who truly knows me. Every dark, imperfect part of me. Even Helen doesn't know it all. My family, they don't know it all. You're my best friend and I trust you with everything."

My eyes burned at the sincerity behind his declaration, the impact hitting twice as hard because of how we'd worked to rebuild that trust.

"I trust you, too."

His lips twitched. "I know you do. There's no way you'd be having this conversation with me if you didn't." Then his face fell. "Listen, Soph... I know last night was intense, and we were both exhausted, let our guards down..."

"That's not why I'm saying all this," I said firmly, shuffling closer and ignoring the burn in my thighs when I did. "Last night gave me a push towards accepting it, but it didn't create any false feelings. I was already experiencing them."

Tension drained from his shoulders as he slipped a hand around my waist, fingers sliding beneath my t-shirt to caress my back. Then, as if my skin had burned him, he suddenly withdrew his hand and stood.

I watched with confusion as he took long strides towards his desk and opened his laptop lid. After a few clicks, he picked it up and dropped it onto the coffee table.

A folder was open, full of word documents.

"What's this?" I asked.

He nodded towards the laptop. "Look at the created date."

I leaned closer. "April. What about it?"

"These are the other songs I wrote about you. The ones I didn't share with anyone else."

I recoiled from the laptop, shooting him a sceptical side-eye. When I saw his relaxed yet slightly nervous posture, though, I swallowed down my fear.

"You want me to look at them?" I asked.

He lifted one shoulder to shrug. "Up to you. I just wanted you to know that there was only one bad song. The rest are... Well, vulnerable in a different way. A far more terrifying way. Hopefully it reassures you that my feelings were also real."

He shifted in his seat, propping one foot onto his other knee and curling his fingers around his ankle.

I reached to close the laptop lid. "I believe you. I'll look at them another time, maybe. When you've pissed me off and I need reminding that you actually like me."

With a laugh, Ed scraped a hand through his hair. His eyes turned soft. "I can't wait to experience Costa Rica with you."

I smiled. "Like I said, there's nobody I'd rather share it with."

***

Thank you for reading :) xx

***

So sorry for the late upload. I had to go on a last-minute business trip to Colorado. I'm still not home so I've used my phone to upload the latest chapter. Apologies in advance for any bad formatting, typos, weird sentences etc. I haven't been able to properly edit but was conscious that you'd all been waiting a while. Really hope you enjoyed the chapter!

What do you think is next for Ed and Soph? Will their real relationship be similar to their pretend one?