I’d blocked Jessy after I’d stormed out of her house, and even gone as far as to delete Butterflies as soon as I got back to my flat. I just wanted to forget that she even existed.
Turned out that was easier said than done.
I looked away from Derek’s eyes, not wanting to see the truth in them. That I was the furthest thing from being OK.
He finally got the hint. ‘All right, if you say so.’ And he left it at that.
I stared at my reflection, unable to meet my own eye, and pulled my phone from my pocket to check the group chat with the boys.
Matt
I never saw it coming – you OK, Patrick?
Wes
We’ll grab drinks when we’re all back, you’re not alone in this
Ben
Fuck her
The flicker of a smile flitted across my lips. No matter what happened, I could always count on my friends to be on my side. It would be so good to have them back here.
That was an hour ago. Now I was standing here on the red carpet of a film premiere, hating every second of it, blinded by all the cameras.
‘Patrick, have you spoken to Jessy?’
‘Has Jessy given you an explanation for what she was doing with –’
‘Patrick, is it true you and your mother –’
I couldn’t do this. I didn’t remember it being this bad when Celine had cheated on me, but maybe that had been because she’d given her own little interviews. I gritted my teeth and focused hard on not smiling, which, unsurprisingly, was pretty easy.
Part of me felt as though I was never going to smile again.
More flashes of light went off and I tried not to blink, eyes watering. Were there seriously people who enjoyed this?
I couldn’t think of anything worse.
‘Move along now, thank you,’ one of the ushers muttered, pulling me aside to stand on another marker, where a whole new set of photographers and journalists was waiting for me.
Great.
‘Patrick! Over here!’
‘Look here, Patrick – smile!’
I was going to kill Derek. All I had wanted to do was hide away in my flat and wait for the guys to come back. Without them here, I was so damned … exposed.
Vulnerable.
Naked.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had to do a red carpet, or any proper event, without them. Wes, Ben, Matt – they were always beside me, a buffer between me and the paparazzi who were determined to ‘get something’.
On my own, this whole thing was a nightmare. My chest felt tight, and I couldn’t take anything but quick, shallow breaths. My fingers were tingling as they hung awkwardly by my sides, and there was a lump the size of a fist in my throat that made swallowing difficult.
‘Where’s Jessy?’ yelled a journalist who I recognized. I was pretty sure we’d done an interview with her last year, before our last album dropped. ‘Where’s your girlfriend, Patrick?’
