Patrick Tetlow.
The lead singer of These Exiles and last year’s world’s sexiest man was ordering coffee in my favourite place.
Patrick Tetlow was standing less than a metre away from me and – fuck – he was hot. Even hotter in real life. My stomach churned. Seriously, social media pics did not do him justice. Laura and Anna were going to freak out when I told them. How long had we complained about never spotting any celebs?
I tried to get my facial expressions back under control and behave like an actual human woman.
Be normal, you weirdo.No one else in the coffee shop seemed to be affected by the presence of a bona fide celebrity, and I wasn’t going to be the one to embarrass myself.
I tried to act nonchalant asthePatrick Tetlow turned back around, heading towards the exit as he tapped on his phone.
Ping.
Almost without thinking, I pulled out my phone and unlocked it.
Paddy
Sorry, things are just a bit complicated right now
Yeah, right – I could not give less of a fuck about whatever excuses Paddy wanted to give when the man of my dreams was about to walk past me.
I willed my eyes to look literally anywhere else, but as the singer made his way out of Maria’s, I couldn’t help but glance back. After all, when would I ever have the chance to see him again?
Damn. Even his back was beautiful.
Before I could look away again, our eyes met.
Confirmed. Best moment of my life.
A flush of heat ran through me as he held eye contact, and I swore I saw some of that heat reflecting back at me. His eyes darted around my face before dipping down my body, taking me in fully. I would have been flattered if the look of interest hadn’t morphed into something a lot less pleasant all of a sudden.
‘Jessy?’
Jessy? How the hell did he – and it hit me like a sledgehammer.
I’d heard theping… just as I’d messaged Paddy. And he’d messaged – and my phone –
Paddy … as in Patrick … as in Patrick Tetlow.
A-lister, bad boy, the guy singing over the cafe speakers right now.
Fuck me.
‘Oh my God,’ I found myself saying aloud. My voice sounded funny to my own ears.
‘Shit,’ Patrick Tetlow said, his eyes widening. ‘Jessy.’
‘You’re Patrick Tetlow,’ I blurted out, like a complete idiot. ‘Patrick Tetlow. You’re –’
Oh shit. I’d been messagingthePatrick Tetlow.
I’d askedthePatrick Tetlow for a quick fuck.
And nowthePatrick Tetlow was grabbing my hand – my hand! – and pulling me into one of Maria’s booths.
This was not happening. This did not happen. Not to me.
‘Jessy, look,’ Patrick was saying hurriedly, leaning close to me to keep his voice low.
