Page 113 of Untether

‘I want to buy you something here,’ Cal tells me, booping me on my nose.

‘Let me guess. Underwear?’ I ask.

‘Not necessarily. Just something pretty.’

I smile at him, hoping my face reflects the warm, gooey feeling inside of me. ‘You can always buy me something pretty. And maybe after, we can walk down Portobello and buy you a new gimp mask from the market?’

He lets out a hearty chuckle, and I love it. ‘Aren’t they more about antique spoons and Harry Styles posters?’

‘You never know. You might get lucky.’

We’re awaiting our coffees when two young women who can’t be older than eighteen approach us. They’re both fair-haired, very pretty, and carrying handbags no eighteen-year-old should be able to afford—if indeed they’re even that old. It’s so hard to tell these days.

I don’t love being approached in public, but it would be churlish of me to begrudge it when this little stunt is an exercise in courting publicity.

‘Hi,’ one of them says while her friend giggles nervously. They’re both looking back and forward between the two of us.

‘Hey there,’ I say warmly.

‘Um, are you Callum?’ she says, and I press my lips together to hide my amused smile.

Cal flashes them a grin that should come with its own hazard sign. ‘I certainly am. How are you doing?’

‘Oh my God.’ They dissolve into a fit of giggles. ‘That’s so cool. Um, we follow you on Instagram. And TikTok. We can’t wait for the show.’

I flinch inwardly, because these girls are absolutely not my target market, and the idea that they and their friends will tune into my very personal and age-specific journey is seriously horrifying. It rams home just how very public my story will be.

Maybe I should have fucked someone who’d be far less appealing to every age group out there.

Cal, on the other hand, appears not to be horrified at all. ‘Ahh, that’s so sweet of you,’ he says. ‘Thank you, honestly.’

‘Do you think we could get a selfie?’ the other one asks. ‘If it’s not too much trouble?’

‘Of course,’ he says, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet. ‘With both of us?’

Their faces fall at the mere thought of me photo-bombing their selfie. ‘Just with you, if that’s okay?’ the first one says.

‘How about I take it?’ I say briskly, to prevent embarrassment all around. They drape themselves over my boyfriend, who looks far too pleased with himself.

I hand the first girl back her phone when I’m done.

‘Thank you so much,’ she says. ‘So are you guys, like, together?’

I glance at Cal.

‘We’re together,’ he says with a firm nod of confirmation as he sits back down. ‘Aida’s my girlfriend.’

‘Oh,’ they chorus, looking totally crestfallen. ‘Well, thank you and good luck with it,’ one says feebly as they edge away backwards.

When I look over at him, he’s grinning to himself.

‘Just say it,’ I say.

‘I’m more famous than you.’

‘You’re such an asshole. And you’re not.They’re not my demographic.’

‘You tell yourself that. And I have more Instagram followers than you do now.’

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