Page 113 of I Knew You Were Trouble

His eyes come back up to mine, his brows drawn together. ‘You got into my phone?’

My voice is barely above a whisper. ‘I’ve seen the pattern you use. The G shape. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.’ A turgid silence fills the room. I want to cry. ‘You seem to have some photos of Taylor in your phone.’

His eyes snap back up. ‘Not because I want to.’

My expression registers how odd I think this is.

‘Look,’ Aidan continues. On his phone, he navigates to his WhatsApp account, holding out the phone to me. He scrolls through the photos. ‘I don’t reply, see? I never asked for any of them. And she sent them before me and you became… what we are now. She saw an opportunity and took it, but I never entertained it. It was the same time I was falling for you, but I was never interested in her.’

A tiny sense of relief punctures me as he flashes his phone screen in my direction. I see the date highlighted clearly on the image metadata: it was sent the night before my birthday, yet she still sent another photo this morning and it doesn’t stop the feeling of betrayal still brewing inside. ‘Then why didn’t you set a boundary and say no? Do youlikereceiving seductive photos from a woman you slept with, one time in Sydney?’

He shakes his head vehemently, his shoulders dropping. ‘Of course not. I should have… I should have made it clear straight away to her.’ For a moment he pauses and rakes a hand through his hair. ‘I should have blocked her. I’m sorry.’

‘I accept that you didn’t reply. I’m happy that you didn’t. But did you not think it was more than a little inappropriate that you didn’t delete them?’

He looks to the floor and says nothing.

Tears sting my eyes. ‘Aidan, I accept your lifestyle. But just because you’re famous, it doesn’t give you a free pass to do things differently to any other normal guy. Strip away all the fame, you’re still my boyfriend, and we have to treat one another accordingly. That you had these on your phone while with me is humiliating.’

Aidan’s over to me within a second. He grasps my hands. ‘Lex, I’m so sorry,’ he breathes.

I search his face. It’s Miller’s voice that I hear.You do know he’s gonna get bored of you, right?

I see his tight swallow. ‘It meant nothing. I’m so stupid. I’m crazy about you, Lexi, you know I am. It was a stupid mistake.’

I keep my eyes on the carpet. Sadness envelops me. I want to forgive him but there’s a squall of emotion in my chest. What if Miller’s right? What if he loses interest and wants to keep others as another option? Am I just the latest girl in a long line of eager females, ready to throw themselves at him?

‘There’s a reason I pushed to keep things on a professional footing,’ I whisper.

He lowers his head, his breathing shallow. ‘Please, no, Lex, don’t go back to that. Don’t push me away.’

I don’t know what to say. I’ve never done this before. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. What was I thinking? That I could fall for a member of a famous boy band and everything would be normal?

‘Lex,’ he says, his voice cracking. ‘Are we fighting or is this you breaking up with me?’

‘I… I need some time to think,’ I murmur.

Aidan hangs his head. He exhales shakily. Moments later, he’s left the room.

Chapter Thirty

Las Vegas, USA

I hate it. I hate being away from him.

Following three sell-out shows at Soldier Field stadium in Chicago, the tour has moved to Nevada. The visual spectacle that is the Waldorf Astoria on Las Vegas Boulevard would have impressed me, if it wasn’t for being another five-star hotel in another sprawling city. Life on the road certainly takes its toll. I don’t know how some of the older rockers survive it.

Filming continues, but since Chicago, Duncan has offered to do most of the legwork. He knows I’m arguing with Aidan; he doesn’t know why. He’s tiptoeing around Meredith, too. I remain out of the way, setting up an office in my hotel room overlooking the MGM Grand. The tour has taken up two entire floors of rooms, and I know from the list Meredith showed me that Aidan’s suite is situated at the other end of my corridor. On our last night in Chicago – after we’d had our fight – Aidan was photographed with Miller, bleary-eyed and falling out of a Chicago club at three a.m., the pictures beamed around the world via the wonders of social media. Since then, we haven’t spoken. I feel it’s safer to remain in my room, people-watching on the Boulevard. It doesn’t distract from the fact that, in three days, Aidan and I haven’t even exchanged phone messages, and it hurts like hell. If I feel a little crazy or obsessive, I decide it’s because I’ve never been in love before, and I both adore and despise the constant churning sensation in my belly.

On our third night in Nevada, I go to bed early. It’s not a show night, yet I wake to a knocking.

I raise my head from the pillow. In the darkness of my suite, the air conditioning keeps my room at a cool temperature, and I check my phone beside me on the nightstand. The screen reads 10:58 p.m. I’ve been asleep for less than an hour.

I throw back the covers, walk to the door and check the spy hole. On the other side of the door, I see Meredith.

When I open it, she stands there, half-dressed, minus shoes, clutching what looks like her underwear and a pair of tights scrunched up into a ball. Her cheeks are tear-stained, her lips red and puffy.

‘Mer,’ I whisper. ‘What on earth… what happened?’

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