Page 30 of Sky Full of Stars

I stare at my phone, but nothing happens, the text stays unread.

“Dude, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Arch puts his hand on my shoulder. “They want us to go to our seats.”

“What?” I look at him in confusion, then back at my phone.

“What is going on with you?”

“I saw someone. Someone I did not want to see Alicia climbing all over me.”

He raises his brows. “A woman? Well shit that explains a lot.”

Bianca is now trying to get us to go to the tables. The lobby is thinning out. I can see the bathrooms and head towards them but I’m stopped by a security guard and told we need to enter the ballroom and get to our seats. I reluctantly let myself be turned away.

Adam: Jenna, please call me. It isn’t what you think.

Chapter Ten

We’ve been placed at a table near the front because we are giving out an award and our donation. The spotlights hitting the stage obscure my view. I can’t see anything behind us. I feel like standing on the table and shouting her name but I would never embarrass her like that.

What if she left? What if she will never speak to me again? I can’t say I would blame her. If I’d seen her kissing Kevin I’d go bat shit crazy. She still hasn’t read my texts. I sent another one after the presenter came on stage, bombarding her won’t help so I won’t send any more.

I still can’t believe she is here. She said she was going to an event, it was why she was trying the dress on. That fucking gorgeous dress that hugged her curves. Why would I ever think it would be the same one I’m attending? Arch kicks me under the table.

“Get it together,” he whisper-shouts.

“Fuck off,” I snap back. Then shake my head and hold up my hand in apology. I nod, I’ll calm down. Jordan snickers at his phone. He shows Nick, then passes it to Arch who looks at it and closes his eyes, he hands it to me. It’s a paparazzi shot of Alicia and me kissing. Seeing it like that it looks all the more damning.

I’m never going to be able to explain this to her. I slump in my seat, tossing Jordan’s phone on the table.

I’m suddenly reminded of Lance. This is exactly what happened to her that night in the club in New York. I would give anything for her to come over right now to punch me because it would mean I could see her one more time. He sent all those texts and called and she never gave in. He’d been in a relationship with her for months. I have no chance.

I lean over to Bianca. “I want a comment released right now. I am not with Alicia, wish her well whatever, but we are not together.”

“Right now?”

“Right now,” I tell her, deadly serious.

“It’ll look suspicious, Aidan, it’ll come across that you’re protesting too much, they’ll think you’re lying,”

“Do it, Bianca.”

She takes out her phone. “I’ll get a contact to run it in a couple of days, you’ll only make matters worse doing it right now.”

I know she’s right. The best way to deal with stuff like this is to ignore it and hope it goes away. But I can’t do that, not with this. I don’t care how she does it. I’m not being associated with that bitch. Although I’m fairly certain it’s too little, far too late.

When we’re called up to hand out our award, I want to defer to Nick or Arch, definitely not a half-drunk Jordan but it’s expected to be me, the face of the band. I hear them introducing us, people start applauding. I don’t know if she is still in the room but there will be no doubt in her mind about who I am now. And she would have no way to know I gave her my real name. She will think I lied about that too. I paste on my professional face, I do what is expected of me, I introduce the person receiving the award using the Tele Prompter, shake hands, hand over a check. We take pictures and walk off the stage back to our seats, smiling at the people on tables around us. Then I drop into my seat and close my eyes.

I don’t see her when the lights go up. I don’t see her as we’re leaving the event room. So I get shit faced drunk and have to be part carried back to the hotel. Arch comes up to the suite with me. He pulls my shoes off then grabs two bottles of water from the mini-fridge and throws one at me. It hits my shoulder hard.

“Asshole,” I swat at the water.

“Speak for yourself,” he says, sitting down on the chair by the dressing table.

I lie half on, half off the bed diagonally, the world spinning.

“Drink the fucking water,” he tells me.

I try a few times and eventually get myself upright. Shit, I can’t remember the last time I was this drunk. I struggle to uncap the water. Arch takes it, opens it and thrusts it at me.

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