Chapter 32: Messages

As the week rolled on, Ed and I barely saw each other during the daytime. That wasn't unusual, especially with the Christmas charity single promotion in full swing, and we made up for it through sleepovers.

Sometimes I'd be asleep when he eventually climbed into bed, but I'd stir as he slipped beneath the covers, and then we'd have lazy, drowsy sex until the early hours. He'd lie in, and I'd go back to my room and dress.

Despite knowing each other so well, the relationship felt fresh and new. Occasionally I had to pinch myself. After so many months of obstacles, heartache, and longing, we were together. Properly together. No lies or secrets or deception.

We'd not got this far during our friends-with-benefits arrangement in Europe, and I hadn't even been sure I'd wanted it back then. Now, for the first time in a very long while, I felt at peace with everything in my life, and I saw positivity and happiness in the tiniest, most insignificant things.

A longer queue at the coffee shop allowed me more time to get to know the security personnel that now accompanied me everywhere.

A colder snap in the air made me excited for warm sunshine on our upcoming Costa Rica trip.

An enormous Christmas tree in the hotel lobby sparked a festive buzz in me.

And every time I caught Ed's eye, butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

"I'm heading out to an interview with Heart, and I want you to keep hold of my phone."

Ed made the strange request outside my bedroom door one afternoon in mid-November.

"Why?" I asked, taking the phone from him.

He slid his hands into his hoody's front pocket and levelled me with a cautious stare, his eyes bouncing around my face.

"I don't want there to be any nasty surprises. I trust you, and I hope you trust me, but I'd rather you desensitise yourself when it comes to the kind of messages I'm receiving from other women on a daily basis."

I dropped my gaze down to his screen. It sat silently in my palm.

"Most of my notifications are off," he said. "And hardly anyone has my phone number. But you should spend some time on my Twitter and Instagram. See what pops up."

I lifted my eyes back up to his nervous face. "Is this because of what Helen said?"

"Yep. And she's right. Honestly, if you were receiving hundreds of messages every day from horny guys, I'm not sure I'd be cool with it. At least not at first. I'd trust you, but I'd find it really annoying."

Passing the phone from hand to hand, I kept my focus on him as I digested his words. How could one of the hottest guys on the planet find that annoying?

"Fine," I said. "And I'll try my best not to reply to any of them."

A deep chuckle vibrated low in his throat. "Thanks for that."

"It's not going to put you off your interview, is it? Worrying about what I'll see? What I'll think? Because I do trust you, but I know why you want me to see them."

"Nah. It's all good. I'd rather you look at them alone so you can decide how you feel without putting on a brave face for me."

Smiling, I stepped into the heat of his body and wound an arm around his back, leaning my head against his solid chest.

"I really like you, you know."

"I know." He kissed the top of my head as his hands withdrew from his pockets to wrap around me. "I really like you, too."

*

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Whenever I thought I'd become accustomed to Ed's fame, something happened that reminded me he occupied a different universe to the rest of the population.

He'd used Twitter DMs to contact me for the very first time, and I'd thought nothing of it. He didn't have my number, so social media was an obvious choice. Thousands of his followers apparently thought the same. Without Teddy Stone's number, they could only reach out via DMs.

There was a satisfying irony to that: he'd used the same method to contact me that all his horny fans used to contact him. Only he'd wanted a reply from me, and their messages stayed unanswered.

In fact, my conversation with him remained near the top of his inbox—the last message sent in February shortly before we'd exchanged numbers. Since then, he'd only contacted two other people: Hattie Steele and a singer who'd scored a couple of wins at the awards ceremony last month. I didn't open any of those messages and moved straight into the requests area of his inbox.

Even as I scrolled down, new messages continuously landed, ranging from polite and benign, to explicit and direct.

Hey

Love you

Wanna hook up?

Your songs are everything

Can I suck your dick?

Are you in London right now?

How are you?

Please follow me. You'll make my life x

I knew he was loved, but I'd mainly experienced that through the medium of screams and tears and applause. Never before had I seen so many words expressing adoration and, let's face it, obsession.

At first I flicked through the messages with little interest. It was eye-opening but not totally unexpected. Every now and then, though, something left field would land. A naked photo. A descriptive fantasy. A crude proposition.

Soon, the messages ceased being abstract and started to become annoying. He was a human being, for fuck's sake. With a girlfriend. Did these fans genuinely believe they stood a chance, or did they just want to provoke a response?

I'd once loved how so many people wanted him and yet he only wanted me. I'd felt special. Privileged. But we'd moved beyond that superficial layer. Now we had far more between us than just sex, which was apparently what a lot of these girls were after.

The thought of him sleeping with someone else turned my stomach. Not his past girlfriends—he'd known them before me, and my own jealous streak knew boundaries. But a random fan? Someone who saw a singer and not a person? Someone who wanted to use him to fulfil their own fantasies? For bragging rights?

After all, I knew that motive far too well. Our friendship had developed off the back of him hooking up with a random fan. Becca. And at the time, I hadn't turned my nose up at it. I'd encouraged her. I'd hoped he'd sleep with her. Because Becca had been one of these obsessive fans, and I'd objectified Teddy Stone just like all these girls were doing now. I hadn't seen him as a person who had a life beyond the mic. He'd just been a hot celebrity who'd make my friend happy.

Now I knew how he liked his coffee and which side of the bed he slept on. I knew about his struggles building friendships despite his easy-going personality. I knew how his passion for travel was often stifled by strict protocols in every country he visited. Most of all, I knew how nearly every aspect of his life was planned, controlled, and monitored.

Teddy Stone had so much more about him than just a pretty face.

And these girls could go fuck themselves.

*

I took a break from reading Ed's DMs when Heart's DJs introduced him as their next guest. Lying back on my bed, I closed my eyes and listened to the interview, smiling along with the jokes and tapping my fingers against my stomach in time with the catchy Christmas single.

With renewed optimism, I switched over to Instagram once the interview finished. It was a similar story to Twitter, and each message I read hit less hard than the last.

Until a familiar name popped up.

Lucia: I get it. It's cool. Maybe next time you...

The preview cut off the rest of the message, and I stared at it for a few seconds before locking the phone and tossing it onto the bedside table.

No. Reading his fans' messages was the request; that didn't extend to personal exchanges, and I definitely couldn't snoop.

But fuck. They were still speaking? And she'd replied just now, so did that mean he'd messaged her today?

Groaning, I buried my face into the pillow. I trusted what we had, and I couldn't stress about a one-night stand when I'd had plenty of those myself. Everything about Lucia screamed A-list girlfriend, though. My stylist was practically a magician, but no amount of hair and makeup skill would put me in the same league as her. Lucia's perfectly symmetrical face, slim body and glossy hair were out of this world. And so was Ed.

So while I had faith that our history and chemistry would trump other-worldly beauty, nobody else had that insight into what made our relationship so special. They could only judge based on what we looked like together, and he'd look amazing with Lucia.

*

"Traumatised yet?" Ed swept into my room, armed with pizza.

"I was, but there are only so many photos of naked tits you can see before it stops having an impact."

He winced as he set down the box on my dressing table. Before he could open the lid, I caught his wrist and tugged him closer. He stumbled into my body and knocked me against the wall.

"Since when are you not hungry for pizza?" He planted a hand on either side of my head, palms flat against the wallpaper, caging me in.

I peered up at his towering frame and looped my arms around his torso. The soft fabric of his hoody crinkled under my fingers and a waft of spicy cologne drifted through the tiny gap between us.

"Since I'm hungry for something else first."

It was cheesy as fuck, so I slipped my hands up to his face and yanked his mouth down to mine before he could call me out on it. Okay, so maybe seeing him get propositioned every nought-point-five seconds had made me a little territorial, but those girls had a point. My boyfriend was hot as hell. And he was all mine.

He kissed me back, slow at first, then soon becoming faster and more purposeful as he read my intention. I traced a path up to his chest and settled my palms against the slabs of hard muscle.

While our lips fought against each other with bruising passion, fierce and rough and needy, a deeper need coiled low in my stomach. His tongue was slick in my mouth, his hands clutching my waist through my jumper, his figure tall and strong and dominant as he leaned into me, and yet I still didn't have enough of him.

I shoved a hand between our restless bodies and palmed his erection through the coarse denim of his jeans. His hips jerked, bumping me harder against the wall. Spurred on, I flicked open the button at his waistband, eased my hand down the inside of his boxers, and curled my fingers around hard, silky flesh.

"Fuck!" He buried his moan in my throat, teeth grazing the skin, tongue lashing out to soothe the scratch.

"I want you so fucking much," I whimpered in his ear.

His humid breath floated across my neck. "Oh yeah? How much?"

Part of me hated that he wanted to make me work for this. The other part loved it, because this was us. Ed and me. Our relationship. Just the two of us, with nobody else involved.

I squeezed his dick and sucked his earlobe into my mouth.

"Touch my pussy and find out."

Dirty talk always worked.

Sure enough, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of my leggings and yanked them halfway down my thighs, taking my underwear with him in the same swoop.

Then he paused.

"How wet are you?" His hungry gaze touched mine.

I groaned and tipped my head back against the wall. "Just touch me."

"Beg me."

With a scoff, I started to pull out of his boxers. If he wanted to make this hard for me, I wouldn't give it to him for free, either.

His hand darted down to catch my forearm, fingertips digging into flesh.

"Fucking beg me for it." He pinned me with a sinfully dark stare, one that promised me the world if I backed down. "And stroke my cock while you're doing it."

Heat singed the sticky space between my legs, open and exposed to the room, and animalistic need blinded me until I could only focus on how badly I wanted his body to own every inch of me.

Orgasms always trumped pride.

I gripped his erection again. "I'm so fucking wet for you. Please finger me hard and fast until I come all over your hand."

His eyes pinched shut, and his forehead came to rest against mine. "Shit, you're the fucking dream, baby."

The brief spell of tenderness ended when two thick fingers plunged deep inside me and the heel of his palm ground against my clit. A loud cry tore from my throat, which he silenced with his mouth.

Succumbing to base instincts, we lost ourselves in a haze of lust against that wall. A blend of tongues, touches, and moans.

And somehow it still wasn't enough. As my orgasm built, I summoned my willpower to fight against every impulse.

"Changed my mind. I want to come around your cock instead."

"It'll be fast and rough," he warned, his voice strained.

"I'm good with that."

I barely saw him tear out a condom from his wallet before he'd spun me around to face the wall and snatched my hips back to bend me over. My leggings remained halfway down my thighs, his jeans around his knees, and yet that somehow made it hotter, like we'd not even paused to undress.

He dragged the head of his cock along my folds, then slammed into me with a groan. Slaps of skin on skin echoed around the room, interspersed with moans and cries. Some from him, most from me.

My hands flattened against the wall as my arms strained to counteract the increasing power behind his thrusts. Each time he drove into me, my body lurched forwards, and yet the angle sent me delirious, the thickness of him stretching me and hitting that sensitive spot until my orgasm triggered rippling pleasure from my core outwards.

"Fuck!" His rhythm shallowed, and then he slumped against my back with a groan.

Catching my breath, I rested my forehead on the wall. One arm wound around my stomach from behind, lips grazing my throat.

"Are you reassured now?" he murmured.

I trickled my fingertips over his forearm and smiled. "This wasn't about reassurance."

"No?" His mouth curved against my neck. "You spent hours reading my love letters and then you mauled me as soon as I got back."

With a chuckle, I manoeuvred within his hold, twisting to face him.

"Calling them love letters is a stretch."

His cheeks dimpled. "But we're in agreement on the mauling?"

I tossed a sheepish smile up at him. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise." He pressed a soft kiss to my lips. "We're a couple now. Use me for comfort however you need. I'm sure it's been an afternoon of mixed emotions."

"Predominantly rage."

He tipped back his head to laugh. "Rage is better than doubt."

"But I appreciate your efforts to reassure me. I'm definitely more of an actions-speak-louder-than-words type person when it comes to feelings. Not sure if you've noticed."

"Hm... Unfortunately for you, I like words. I also like sex. So now sex is done, it's time to talk about it." He fired me a wink. "Nice try, though."

After a quick trip to the bathroom and a clean-up, I plucked open the pizza box lid and tore free a triangle.

"But seriously, are you okay?" His concerned eyes landed on me, hands cradling his own slice. He'd bought my favourite flavour even though he adamantly contested pineapple's presence on pizza.

"Honestly I'm fine. But, uh, Lucia messaged you." When his jaw tensed, I quickly added, "I didn't read it. Didn't think it fell under the category of desperate fans..."

His lips curved into a forced smile. He dropped the untouched slice back into the box and reached for his phone.

"We'd been talking on and off," he said, his gaze flitting up to meet mine as he unlocked his screen. "Mostly off. She reached out recently when she saw photos of you and me together."

"Okay. Well, it's none of my business—"

"It is your business, Soph." His voice was soft. "We're together now. I don't want to hide anything from you."

His eyes bounced across the screen as he read the message, and then he held out the phone to me.

"Here. You can read. Just don't..." He scratched the back of his neck, looking mildly sheepish. "...Don't scroll too far back unless you want to see what led up to August."

Curiosity tugged at me. Although desperate to see what had encouraged Ed to have his first ever one-night stand, I equally didn't want to give myself any more reasons to feel insecure about something I knew was no longer relevant. Random, unknown fan girls I could handle. Supermodels he'd previously fucked, not so much. Ed didn't have one-night stands. There must have been something special about her to tempt him into it.

"How many times did you sleep with her?" I asked quietly, unsure if that was prying.

"Once. Literally once. It was okay. Nothing special. Oh my God, that sounds brutal. Pretend I didn't say that."

His genuine mortification reassured me that he wasn't just saying it to appease my insecurities.

Smiling, I looked down at the phone and read the most recent messages.

Lucia: Congratulations on your wins last night. Beautiful girl on your arm...

Teddy: Thanks! Shocked for sure. Was up against some very talented musicians

Lucia: You are too modest. They never stood a chance. I didn't know you had a girlfriend

Teddy: It's new. Early days

Lucia: Is it serious?

Teddy: I hope so

Lucia: Does she know about us?

Teddy: No, nda remember?

Lucia: Probably for the best. Girls sometimes get weird about me sleeping with their boyfriends 😂

Teddy: I wasn't dating her back then. She is very laidback though. She wouldn't be weird about it but I don't plan on telling her

Lucia: I get it. It's cool. Maybe next time you are in Rome, we can meet up 😊

"Wow," I said to Ed as I handed his phone back. "Super sweet of her to want to meet the two of us in Rome."

I watched for his reaction, but he just smiled and placed the phone face down on the table. If he thought the invitation was intended only for him, which it obviously was, he didn't admit it.

It didn't matter anyway. Those messages proved he'd been fiercely loyal even before we'd got together for real. Not that I should have expected differently during a fake relationship, but sometimes actions really did speak louder than words. 

***

Thank you for reading :) xx

***

In the next chapter, Soph has separate conversations with both Helen and Ed about Gabby's party. How do you think they'll each react?

In other news, Heart of Stone (book 1) is nearly at 100K reads! I feel like we should do something to celebrate the milestone. Any ideas?