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38
Sky
The dayafter I return home, Tara insists I meet her for lunch, wanting the full run down on my weekend in the house of debauchery. Not prepared to give the final part of myself to Dylan by announcing to anyone outside of us what’s really happening, I have to lie to her. Once I’m certain this future is real, she’ll be the first to know. Who am I kidding? Social media will be the first to know.
This time we sit in a quieter corner of the coffee shop, in a wooden booth with vintage cushioned seats and expensive fixtures. Furtive glances around the room suggest nobody is looking twice at me. I guess being ‘flavour of the month’ doesn’t last long.
Tara jumps out of her seat when I arrive, and she grabs my hand like an excited toddler. "Tell me everything! Did you meet them all? What happened?"
I extract myself and slide into the seat opposite her. "Tara, I just had my heart broken by Dylan and you want to rub my nose in this?"
She clamps a hand over her mouth. "Sorry, it's just I've never known a famous person before..."
"I'm not famous!" I hiss.
She jiggles for a minute then decides not to hold back. "Do you mind me asking what happened? Why did you go to his house? I thought you didn't want anything to do with him?"
I play with my cup, not meeting her curious gaze. "I guess I was in denial. When I saw him it was..." Was what? How can I express this without sounding trite? "You know, he’s Dylan Morgan and I was mad thinking I couldn’t resist him."
"Did you take pictures? Of the house, I mean."
"No. Why would I?'
"Sky! I'd die to see the inside of that house! So the band...?"
I tap my fingers and give her my ‘frowny face’ wishing she’d keep her voice down. "Yes. I met them"
"And?"
"Various levels of dickhead." Unwanted memories of Jem re-enter my mind.
She splutters. "Various levels ofhot!"
"Um, Tara? Are you listening? The weekend broke my heart?" If this were real, her insensitivity would piss me off.
"Sorry."
"Maybe in a few days, when I get over this I'll tell you everything."
Tara rearranges her features into concerned friend. "What happened?"
"Dylan finally understood why we don't fit. As soon as he saw me in his world, compared to everyone around, I think he realised I wasn’t for him."
"For someone who was so love struck, that happened fast."
I shrug. "Not like we'd known each other long. Maybe I was just a new toy, and because he couldn't play, he wanted me. Then when I said yes, I was no fun anymore."
"Did you have sex?" Fighting back the blushing is pointless, but I don’t answer. "Bastard," mutters Tara softly.
"It's over with," I lie, "Time to move on."
* * *
Over the next few days,life returns to the pre-Broadbeach normality. Apart from no Grant, no real job, and a relationship with a rock star conducted via Skype and text messages. If I want to see him in between, I track social media. There's at least one new picture of him each day.
Lily Parker. Despite my refusal to be dragged into Jem's games, the name nags at me. Jem is probably stirring something up, but why? When Jem mentioned her name, Dylan didn't react outwardly, but he was holding my hand at the time and his grip tightened. Dylan's words about how I can't normally google potential boyfriends almost guilts me out of searching, but I need to know.
Taking a drink from my glass, I hold the fizzing wine in my mouth and type:
