I tried not to think about how self-conscious I felt in this dress I’d borrowed from Anna. It was sexier than anything Iowned or was comfortable in, but she’d insisted I wear it. The thought of having another picture of me in just my regular clothes plastered everywhere had been enough to have me say yes.
I shuffled in my seat.
‘Was your food good?’ I winced at my pathetic attempt to get something from him. It had been so long since I’d had to pretend to be interested in what a man said, and it wasn’t any easier now.
Dating wasn’t something I had planned on, and after Ross – I shook my head, trying to physically dislodge any thoughts of my ex. This date was going terribly enough without taking a trip downthatmemory lane.
Patrick sighed, and I looked up, only to see him swipe something on his phone, snort and keep scrolling.
A prickle of annoyance flashed through me as I glanced about the place again. It was nice – like, really nice. Not showy nice, but genuinely ‘we’ve thought about the decor, the menu changes every week’ nice. A place a guy would bring a woman he really liked.
Shamemydate was contractually obligated to be here.
‘Have you seen the stuff online?’ Patrick’s voice was like liquid lava pouring through me.
I held in a shiver, determined not to let him affect me. ‘He speaks!’
‘What?’ Patrick blinked, looking at me like I was nonsensical.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ I said awkwardly, shifting in my seat and trying to pull Anna’s dress down my thighs a few inches.Seriously, does the girl date pussy-out?‘Have I seen what stuff online?’
Patrick – you know, the world-famous celebrity whose lyrics were so eloquent and refined – looked utterly bewildered. ‘You seriously haven’t searched your own name?’ He gestured with his phone.
I probably shouldn’t have done it. But who could honestly stop themselves? Even as Patrick said in a rush, ‘No, don’t – once you look, you can’t –’
It was too late. I’d already grabbed his phone. He’d searched my name – why couldn’t I look?
The thumbnail was bad enough, but I full-body winced when the guy started talking, the captions quickly reminding me why even looking at social media was a bad idea.
‘– does she think she is, dating Patrick Tetlow? She’s clearly not in his league; her dress sense is –’
I was suddenly grateful for Anna and her ridiculously sexy dress. There had been enough paps outside the restaurant when we’d arrived – surely by the time we left my sartorial rating would have gone up.
Message from Cassie Fletcher
Cassie, huh? I flicked the notification away, trying not to care that he was messaging another woman. None of this was real, after all.
Not that the world knew that.
‘Seriously,’ muttered Patrick, his face looking almost apologetic as I glanced up. ‘It’s better to ignore it.’
‘It’s me they’re talking about,’ I said, almost accusingly. ‘Why can’t I –’
‘Once you see that shit, you can neverunsee,’ he saiddarkly, picking up a fork and jabbing it at the mashed potato he’d left on his plate. ‘Just give me back my phone.’
But I couldn’t. It was all too easy to keep scrolling.
‘We’ve seen the gorgeous women he’s dated in the past, and this Jessica is no Celine –’
Celine. Patrick’s most recent ex.
I purposely hadn’t searched her online, but I didn’t need to. I could still picture her, all waif-like model beauty and large eyes.
‘That ismyphone, Jessy.’
I ignored him. Scroll.
‘Now I’m not one to tear a girl down, but I think we can all agree this is not the sort of woman any of us expected Patrick Tetlow to be dating. She’s not even a D-list celebrity. Does anyone know where she came from?’
