Chapter 11: Ed

I spotted Becca the second I walked into her tired shell of a building. A flash of fiery red hair in front of a dull concrete wall. The place still needed a lot of work; would half a mil even cover it? Where had her current funds gone? I couldn't see any evidence of progress.

London prices, Mark had told me when we'd pulled up outside. In other words, don't be a privileged prick about it.

If this was my own money, at least I'd have some control—or right to control—over proceedings. I was nothing but a marketing ploy, though. A pretty face to generate interest from people who actually could spend their own money. Becca's arm candy.

I ambled towards her, sidestepping a pile of rubble en route. She waited until I was practically breathing the same air as her before acknowledging my presence.

"Teddy." She didn't glance up from her paint swatches, which was funny because painting this place should have been much lower on her list of priorities. Ensuring it was structurally sound looked far more pressing.

"I'd go with the blue." I leaned a shoulder against the wall, then promptly thought better of it and straightened up. "Blue is calming."

She slapped the blue swatch against the partition and studied it. I edged away and peered up at the ceiling. Was this a load-bearing wall?

"Not convinced," she said eventually. "I'm looking at it now and I'm not feeling particularly calm."

"Probably because you've been standing in a hovel all morning."

I dodged the long ponytail that swung through the air as she whipped her head around to finally look at me. Although maybe I'd deserved to get smacked in the face for that comment. Still, she'd done far worse to Soph, so who was the real bad guy here?

"I bet you've never got your hands dirty a day in your life." She tossed the swatches onto a nearby table and planted her palms on her hips. "And you don't have the first clue about renovating a tired space, because you only dare to put your rich, pretty feet into five-star venues. So don't come here and insult my project just because you think your generous donation gives you the right to have a say."

Anger lit up her hazel eyes as she pinned me with a venomous glare. This wasn't the best segue into telling her that Legal had vetoed my 'generous donation'.

Damn it. Should have listened to Mark.

Clearing my throat, I folded my arms and cast my eyes around the room once more.

"Is there somewhere we can talk in private?" I asked.

Apparently that was also the wrong thing to say because she turned her back on me again to return to the swatches.

"Somewhere private in this hovel? Let me just knock down a few walls and create a nice conference room."

On the plus side, despite her obvious resentment, she must have still assumed I was a man of my word because she wasn't acting like someone worried I might withdraw my pledge.

Sadly, that was what I'd come here to do. Now I really needed to make sure I wasn't a dick about it.

"Please, Becca." I lowered my voice and stepped closer to her.

Her spine stiffened. Guilt froze my muscles. No, no, no. This was going so badly. Should have listened to Mark. Should have accepted Helen's offer of a scripted and accompanied meeting.

I put distance between us once more and dragged a hand through my hair. What to do? How to fix this? Theoretically, I didn't need to fix it. My passion for this project wouldn't be dimmed by a sour relationship with its founder. Still not ideal, though.

Turning away from her, I strode across the room towards the entrance. Just as I reached to close the door, though, I paused.

"For heaven's sake. The door won't fall off its hinges if you touch it."

Becca swept past me to slam it shut, and the waft of her perfume transported me straight back to that night a year ago. My lips on her neck. Her hands on my belt. The poor decision that nearly led to me losing the most important person in my life.

No trace of that timid fan girl remained. This woman could barely stand me. All because she'd seen a side that few others had. The man behind the mask.

With no working electrics in the room, and just two rotting windows, we stood in near darkness. The brief respite from her hostile body language gave me the confidence to push ahead.

"It's about my donation," I said. "I meant what I said at Gabby's party and fully intended to follow through. Unfortunately, I've since been advised against it because of what happened between us."

"And what did happen between us?"

"Let's not play this game, Becca."

"What game?"

I ignored her attempt to derail me. Business head on. Focused.

"I'm passionate about the cause, and I want to be involved. I'll personally promote the hell out of this to fundraise the amount I initially pledged. If you don't want me involved, then say."

A stream of sunlight bounced off her red hair as she shook her head. "That's a shitty comment to make. You know how important this is to me so obviously I'm not going to turn away your help for a matter of pride."

"And you know how important it is to me, too."

"Yes. I know exactly how important it is to you." Her voice dropped to a dark bite.

I didn't like that tone and the clear insinuation behind it.

"We've probably got two minutes before my protection officer checks in on us. Let's hash this out now."

When all else fails, adopt Soph's approach. It hadn't worked with Mac, but second time's a charm, right?

"I think you're playing a game," she said, "and I hate being a pawn in your quest to promote your good-guy brand."

"Right." I nodded slowly. "So your resentment towards me has nothing to do with that night, then?"

"It has everything to do with that night, actually. That's how I know you're playing a game."

Her confession instilled both shame and frustration in me. Had I really hurt her this much, or was it her subsequent lies that had caused the damage?

"My intentions that night were genuine, Becca. I got carried away, and I'm sorry that ended up hurting you. But the way you reacted by manipulating Soph... That was far worse than what I did."

"Exactly." She forced out the word through gritted teeth. "It was a reaction. A reaction triggered by what you did. I know I was just some easy fan girl to you, but don't stand there and pretend you have no idea about the influence you have over your fanbase."

"You were the one pushing for things to go further. And for the record, I didn't take you back to my room because you were an 'easy fan girl'." I used air quotes to stress that they weren't the words I'd choose myself. "I took you back to my room because I wanted to talk about a cause I'm passionate about."

She scoffed. "Yeah? Then why did you kiss me?"

My stomach dipped. Brave girl. I didn't think she'd have the balls to call me out, but everything about her attitude now was totally different to her coy demeanour that night. She'd been endearing. A breath of fresh air. Shy about everything other than her cause, like her sincere passion for it overpowered any nerves towards me.

I rewarded her courage with an honest answer of my own, hoping it would go some way towards a truce.

"Because you stopped behaving like a fan and that proved how much you cared about this." I threw out my arms to gesture around the room. "We shared a passion and I saw you differently for it."

In the dim lighting, her tense body shifted. A small crack appeared in her guarded expression.

"What did you tell Sophia?" she asked.

"The same thing I just told you. I didn't go into details, but I did admit that I handled things badly and shouldn't have said what I said. So again, I'm sorry."

"Do you even remember what you said to me? The bullshit line you tried to feed me?"

I rubbed at the back of my neck. "It wasn't a bullshit line. I really don't sleep with fans. Ever."

"That'll break a lot of hearts." She laughed and it dripped with bitterness. "And piss off a lot of fans. We not good enough for you?"

How ironic when these same fans were the ones objectifying me and loving the concept of me more than me as a human.

"I want people to see behind the singer, that's all."

"I do see behind the singer," she said, "and I don't like what I see."

A slice of pain squeezed my lungs. She was still mad at me, though, so I tried not to dwell on it. One opinion. Well, two, including Mac.

"That's fine. We don't have to see eye-to-eye," I said, "I just wanted to clear the air and reassure you that I didn't intentionally mislead you about the funds."

"Message received."

She reached for the door and pushed it open. Daylight flooded through and shrouded her body in an ethereal glow. For a second, I felt sorry for her. This project was huge—her dream—and she no longer had Soph to share it with. But she'd also treated Soph like crap, so my brief bout of pity quickly fizzled away.

"And if you're trying to think of a subtle way to threaten me," she said when I didn't move, "don't bother. I would rather die before telling the world that I wasn't good enough for the perfect Teddy Stone."

*

"How'd it go?" Mark shifted the car into drive, checked over his shoulder, and pulled off.

I scraped a hand over my face and groaned. "Not great."

"Did you fuck up? Should have gone with the script."

Charming. Even Mark didn't believe I could handle myself without direction and scripting. Maybe he was right. It hadn't gone well, and I hadn't exactly made it easy for myself.

"She deserved the real me," I said.

Mark clicked his tongue. "She's seen the real you, Tapper. She didn't like it."

I clenched my jaw and swallowed down the guilt. Manipulation. Becca had a knack for it. For all I knew, she'd moved on from that night but wanted to retain the upper hand. One lapse of judgement, an opportunity for an independent decision—sex with a girl who shared my passion—without anyone else influencing me. It proved my greatest fear. I had no real decision-making power in this life. No control. Whenever I tried, it came back to bite me.

"Ed?" Mark's sharp voice drew my attention across the centre console.

"Hm?"

"I asked if you wanted to talk about it."

"Nah. It's ancient history. I just want to go home and see Soph."

I opened Instagram, and by the magic of its algorithm, Soph's latest post appeared at the top of my feed. A casual shot of her sitting on the edge of our Costa Rican pool with her feet dangling in the water. Head tilted back. Long hair falling so far down her back that it grazed the tiles behind her. I remembered taking it. She'd looked so beautiful in the late afternoon sunshine—I'd needed it immortalised.

At the time I'd told her it would make a great Instagram pic, but seeing it again now, with forty thousand likes attached, sparked a rare sensation of envy that tightened my chest. My memory was now a public entity. Everyone else could enjoy the photo just like I did. It was no longer a private moment between just the two of us.

Against my better judgement, I ventured into the comments. Hundreds of hearts and gooey eyes and flames. Some tongue and aubergine and water emojis in there too.

Smoking ❤️‍🔥

Want that hair around my fist

I'd make you wetter than that pool 😛

"Did you just growl?" Mark asked.

I instinctively locked the phone, even though Mark's eyes never tended to leave the road.

"Soph is getting a lot of attention on her new Instagram photo," I said.

"And that's a problem?"

"I don't like the comments."

"Ah." He was good enough not to mock me. "I doubt she likes the comments you get on your photos, either."

"Hm."

I was happy the world loved and admired her. Sometimes, though, it did feel like there were thousands of people in this relationship, and I was sharing Soph with all of them.

Sufficiently irritated, I reopened Instagram and continued to torture myself.

"'Sit on my face,'" I read out loud to Mark. "This is the kind of thing people comment publicly?"

"Open your last photo."

Oh, hell no. I could detect this trap a mile off.

"I know what people say on my photos."

"So it's okay for them to say it on yours but not on hers?"

"Didn't say it was okay. You don't always have to take her side, you know."

Mark glanced across at me for a split second. "Taking her side would imply she's done something wrong."

Crap. Not what I meant.

"Sorry. I'm just exhausted from that meeting with Becca. And I don't like people fantasising over my girlfriend. And yes, I know people fantasise over me. The hypocrisy isn't lost. But I'm still allowed to be uncomfortable with it."

"Of course you are." This time his voice was softer, and a small wave of calm rolled over me.

Always listen to Mark. 

***

Thank you for reading :) xx

***

We see a little more of Becca in this book, and ngl I actually enjoyed writing her scenes! It's an interesting dynamic between her and Ed, going from that initial attraction, to despising each other, to sharing an important cause. In any other book, it'd make for a good romance plot -- but don't worry, there's none of that here :)

If you want to read what actually happened when Ed invited Becca back to his room on the night of the concert, the bonus chapter is available on Ream via my Beach Holiday tier. I'll also share a link in the comments of a page that lists all currently available bonus chapters, with the spoilers blacked out, so you can see what else is there.