Page 20 of I Would Die for You

Cassie almost drops her glass when she turns to find Ben standing there, his face as close as can be, breathing in the very same air as her. Her heart races, her body unable to withstand the surreality of what is happening.

Say something, she says to herself, but her throat constricts and her jaw locks.

Staring for far longer than is polite, she ticks off the checklist in her head that proves it’s really him: the smooth skin that colors all too easily, the cheekbones that her mother says could slice ham, the cleft in his chin that his bandmates tease him about because they say it looks like a bum. That unmistakable smile.

Even if shecouldtalk, she doesn’t know what she could possibly say. This is a fantasy she’s daydreamed about for so long. She’d predicted what Ben would say and she’d planned the perfect answer that would make him fall instantly in love with her. Except now, when he’s right here in front of her—the pair of them face to face—her mind is blank of every feasible response.

“Itwasyou I saw backstage on a stretcher, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know if that’s something I should admit to,” she says eventually.

“Well, considering we hadn’t even started our set, you certainly don’t get any points for staying power.”

“If you had any idea what it’s like to have all your internal organs crushed, I’m sure you’d find your way to awarding me at least three.”

His eyes crinkle with amusement. “I haven’t seen you around before.”

It’s an open-ended statement that Cassie doesn’t know what to do with. Should she pretend that a Secret Oktober concert is the last place you’d expect to find her; that she’s only here by default? Ordoes she divulge her eighteen-month obsession with him that has affected not only her studies, but her relationship with her family, too?

“That’s because this isn’t really my scene,” she says, making the decision fairly quickly.

“Oh…?” he replies, raising his eyebrows. “And what is?”

“I’m more of a Duranie,” she continues, referencing their arch-rivals.

“You’re funny. I like that,” he says, as the edges of his mouth turn up. “I’m Ben, by the way.”

He lingers awkwardly and Cassie has to stop herself from dissolving into a fit of hysteria. She hopes he doesn’t kiss her hand—not only because it’s sweaty, but because the charm offensive is somewhat lost now she’s seen him do it to every other girl in the room.

As if able to read her mind, Ben leans in and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Well, it’s nice to meet you properly,” he says. “When you’re not unconscious.”

A moment later and he’s gone, flashing a smile as he looks back, though Cassie’s unsure if it’s at her or the legions of impossibly good-looking girls she’s surrounded by. She pulls herself up short, hating the ever-present insecurity about how she looks and the belief that she’d never be deserving of his attention.

“You’re as beautiful as the next girl,” her mum would say whenever her self-esteem needed bolstering. “Evenmoreso, because you’re as beautiful on the inside as you are out.”

But no matter how many times Cassie had heard it, she still couldn’t convince herself to believe it, because what biased motherwouldn’tsay that to their child?

Amelia gives her a nudge, as if to alert her to how close Ben had been. But Cassie doesn’t need telling; she could feel his arm as it brushed hers, smell the sweat he’d worked up onstage, hear the breath between the words she’s already convinced she imagined.

But that’s not what Amelia’s trying to tell her. “They haven’tcome up for air in over five minutes,” she says bitterly, as Michael’s hand disappears up Kimberley’s skirt.

“Babe, I’ve really got to go,” squeaks the scantily dressed model as she makes a half-hearted attempt to get up from the sofa. “I’ve got work super early in the morning.”

“But you can’t,” says Michael, pulling her back to him.

Kimberley giggles and playfully fights him off. “Call me when you get back from Manchester.”

As she walks out, she gives Cassie and Amelia a cursory glance up and down as if assessing the threat level she’s leaving behind.

“Hey,” says Luke, the band’s keyboard player, as he sidles up beside Cassie. “You OK?”

In any other universe, she’d be impossibly excited to have one of her idols single her out for attention, but she’s holding out for Ben. She knows she’s imagining it, but it seems that every time she looks to him, he’s throwing a glance her way, as if checking she’s still there. She wants to put it to the test by moving, to see if his eyes follow her, but she’s scared that the delusional bubble that she’s placed herself in—is happy to stay in for the rest of her life—will be unceremoniously popped by the truth.

“Fancy one of these?” says Luke, holding out a tiny white pill.

Cassie masks her shock. “Erm, actually, I was about to get going…”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere soon,” he says, looking to the sofa, where Michael is gyrating against the girl lying underneath him.

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