Chapter 21: Ed

Helen wanted us to go on a date. It would be a show of solidarity, she claimed.

So soon after Soph's panic attack, I hated the idea. I hardly ever got my own way, though, and when Soph agreed to it, I didn't even bother arguing.

Vitriol had spread like fire across a parched moor. I told Soph not to look at social media, but she ignored me. One night I caught her crying. Sobbing into the spray of the shower. The next night, she laughed off the hurtful comments. Made fun of them. Fantasised about replies without actually sending them. By the third night, her face was stoic as she flicked through Twitter and Instagram.

She wouldn't talk about it. Claimed she was fine. Adjusting. Not wanting to push her, I accepted it, but part of me was scared, too—terrified, even. She shouldn't have to put up with this. Someone as strong as her shouldn't be torn down by anonymous online trolls. One day she'd realise that. She'd realise I wasn't worth it, and she'd leave.

A date, therefore, so soon after our last evening out together, wrecked me with fear.

Watching her put on a brave face as we took the short walk from the car to the restaurant tugged at my heart.

"You look beautiful," I said once we were seated.

Despite the anxiety tearing through me, my more primal instincts enjoyed the pretty, pink dress she wore. It was tight around her chest, then flowed in pleated chiffon to just above her knees. She looked stunning.

"Helen chose it. Gives the impression of innocence, apparently." She rolled her eyes and picked up the menu.

Today she was defiant. The cycle of emotions concerned me. She was on a learning curve for sure, but not everyone passed the course. I nearly didn't.

We kept the conversation light and breezy over dinner. A well-practised show. Easy. Natural. Yet so not us. Better not to bring out the banter when we were trying to look like a happy couple, though. That would be too easily twisted into an inaccurate narrative.

When we left the restaurant a couple of hours later, I clasped my hand in hers and strode towards the car. Her head was bowed, eyes fixed on the pavement.

"Sophia, you fucking slut!"

I ground to a halt. Every muscle in my tightly strung body engaged as I whipped my head around to search for the lowlife who'd dared to yell something so disgusting in public. Of course I couldn't see anyone. They might be brave enough to insult another person, but they weren't brave enough to show their face while doing it.

"Just leave it," Soph murmured. "Let's go home."

Mark's firm hand on my shoulder urged me forwards. He kept it there until I'd taken at least three steps. A warning.

I sat in the car and seethed. Fumbled around in my wallet to pluck out a piece of gum. Chewed. And chewed. And chewed.

"I've been called far worse." Soph nudged me with her elbow and grinned.

I couldn't muster up the willpower to smile back.

*

Reports of a strained relationship dominated social media. Normally I stayed away from stories about me—Zola picked up anything concerning—but I knew Soph would be trawling through the dark depths of celebrity gossip. I needed to see what she saw.

I tore through half a packet of gum while I read about how my relationship had hit the rocks. How unhappy I looked with my girlfriend. How we'd argued over a cheesecake.

We hadn't even had the cheesecake, never mind an argument.

Each report chipped away a little more at my resolve. It wasn't just about Soph, either. This was new territory for me. Sure, the squeaky-clean reputation was a pain to manage at times, but at least it meant I rarely had any bad stories to contend with.

Experience reassured me it would pass. Everything passed eventually. For Soph, though, she had no prior experience to draw from, and her defiance had now evolved into sadness.

"It's horrible," she murmured as she held up her phone screen to show me a headline. I glanced up from my spot on the sofa opposite her.

TROUBLE IN PARADISE? TEDDY AND SOPHIA SHARE AN AWKWARD DINNER

I'd already read the article in question. It belonged in the fantasy section of a bookstore.

"Was it awkward?" she asked me. "I don't believe it was. Were we overthinking it?"

"It's just clickbait," I said. "They'll write anything to get views."

"I hate seeing our relationship portrayed like this. It couldn't be further from the truth. It's not real. Why are they lying about it?"

"Because they want people to read the article, and people love thinking there's drama."

"People love thinking you might be single soon," she grumbled.

I slipped a fresh strip of gum between my lips. Spearmint exploded in my mouth as I chewed.

"Just ignore it," I told her for the seventeenth time. "You can't control what they write about you."

A huff of air shot from her mouth like a bullet from a gun.

"Can't I? Isn't that exactly what you've been doing for the last ten years? Curating your image to look like the perfect guy who can do no wrong?"

I tried to redirect the energy from my bouncing leg back into my brain. A quick glance at Soph's hard face warned me that this would descend into an argument if I didn't tread carefully.

"Maybe that's why they've latched onto this," I said. "They haven't had any other excuses to drag me through the dirt."

Anger flared through her eyes. Crap. Wrong answer.

"Except they're not! They're dragging me through the dirt. Because you're perfect. And I'm not good enough for you."

I ran my tongue over the rubbery knot of gum. Passed it from one side of my mouth to the other. Sunk my teeth into it again and chewed.

"Do you believe you're not good enough for me?" I asked eventually.

It was another wrong move, but by this point I wasn't certain there were any right moves to make.

"I believe they don't know anything at all about our relationship."

"Exactly." I shrugged and leaned back into the sofa. Propped one foot on the coffee table between us. "They don't know anything about us, so don't let it affect you."

"And are you letting it affect you?" She stared at me, a darkness in her eyes that warned me I was walking into a trap.

What was the right answer this time? Look like a hypocrite and say yes, or lie to her and say no?

"Because you've been getting through that gum like you've got shares in it," she added.

"I always chew gum."

She flashed me a look of disgust so powerful that guilt barrelled into me.

"I'm sorry," I conceded. "You're right. I am affected by it, and the chewing is my way of coping with the anxiety."

"Reading lies online is one thing." She pinched her ring between a thumb and forefinger. "Being lied to by you pisses me off on a whole new level."

I swallowed the instinct to argue. She was upset. Not thinking straight.

"I'm sorry," I repeated. "It wasn't a deliberate lie. I just downplayed it because I'm trying to reassure you that there's nothing to be upset about. My anxiety is over you—not the stupid articles."

"Whatever." She closed her eyes and collapsed back into the sofa with a sigh. "I'm not arguing over fucking chewing gum."

*

I thought I had it under control. Later that night, Soph begged me to fuck her hard and rough. I obliged. It took our minds off everything, just like sex always did, and then we were both so tired that we fell asleep in each other's arms.

When I woke the next morning, the dark cloud had lifted. A new day. Other celebrities in line to screw up. We were due a break.

Mark drove me to the recording studio, and the cloud returned.

A swarm of paparazzi surrounded the entrance. I summoned a deep breath. Pasted on a neutral smile as I weaved my way through the group and ignored the buzz of questions.

Until one seeped through the white noise and reminded me that I did not have things under control.

"Teddy, were you angry to see your girlfriend cosying up to your best mate?"

My feet glued themselves to the pavement, mere metres from the door. Slowly, I turned to find the prick who'd asked the question.

"Keep walking," Mark muttered under his breath.

There he was. Short. Baggy jeans. Hoodie. No lanyard—probably freelance looking for the next scoop. I'd give him a damn scoop.

"Angry?" I cocked a brow at him and watched as his predatory eyes lit up with greed. "Am I angry my girlfriend cosied up to my best mate?"

I stared at him. Dared him to ask me again. The little shit did.

"Yep. Rough, huh?"

A dull ache rocked through my jaw. No time to get more chewing gum. I unclenched my teeth and unfurled my fists.

"Yes," I said. "It's very rough seeing my girlfriend have a panic attack. Seeing it shared millions of times on social media. It does make me angry. Furious, even. Because once again, a genuine mental health condition is being twisted to fit a narrative. You know what I'm not angry about? The fact my best mate was there to comfort her. To support her. To reassure her. I'm grateful. So no, I'm not angry that she cosied up to him. I'm glad she had someone there to help her through it."

And when I yanked open the studio door to disappear inside, an unfamiliar adrenaline buzzed through me.

***

Thank you for reading :) xx

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If you want to read ahead, we're currently up to chapter 41 on Ream, with updates every week!