I threw another chip at him.
‘Your loss,’ he quipped, dunking it in his curry sauce and slurping it up. ‘So just you and Laura, nothing concrete?’
‘I can remember being on swings with her. Our mum was trying to push both of us, and both of us felt hard done by. I was crying, I think.’ I grinned at the memory, at the innocence of it – at how only now I could see how tough my mum had it, having to raise two children all on her own. ‘What about you?’
‘Oh, nothing good. Cassie making me butter pasta,’ Patrick said with a shrug, leaning back in his seat.
He always did that when he didn’t want to talk about something. Shrug, and lean back – as though he could put physical distance between him and the topic he didn’t want to touch.
Still, I was curious. ‘Butter pasta?’
‘Exactly what it sounds like. Pasta cooked to the point of disintegration, with butter.’ Patrick shrugged again, that little movement telling me everything I needed to know.
He must have noticed my look, because he smiled awkwardly. ‘You don’t have to feel sorry for me.’
Heat flared in my cheeks. ‘I wasn’t –’
‘I don’t tell you these things for sympathy,’ he continued, a quiet calm in his voice that was far too soothing. ‘I can talk to you about anything, Jessy.’
My name sounded so good on his lips.
‘Last orders!’
I jumped, glancing over at the counter and the clock above it.
Midnight. Fuck.
‘Come on,’ Patrick added, rising to his feet and grabbing a handful of chips from my portion. ‘Let’s get you home.’
It was the comfortable way he said it that made my heart warm. Everything was so … so easy with Patrick.
I mean, obviously it wasn’t. He was a millionaire pop star and I was a broke nobody.
But still, everything between us felt easy.
The night air was freezing after the cosy warmth of the chicken shop, but I’d grab a decaf coffee on the way back to the hotel, and thankfully it was only two streets over from –
‘Ah,’ said Patrick.
‘Yeah,’ I said quietly, reaching up and touching the grill that had been pulled across the gates to the station. ‘I guess it closed early. Must be issues with the trains.’
Whatever it was, it meant a very long walk or a criminally expensive taxi back to my hotel.
Well, that was what you got, I suppose, for staying out all night with a guy you literally couldn’t leave alone.
Precisely what we were going to do after the Songwriter Awards next week …
Easier not to think about it.
‘Well, I guess I better start walking,’ I said cheerfully, pulling my light summer jacket closer around me.
‘You’re not going to walk all the way from here, are you?’ Even in the darkness, I could see Patrick’s concern.
It was stupid how happy it made me, seeing him worried. ‘Yeah, it’s OK. I’ll probably just speedwalk.’
‘You still like staying in the hotel?’ Patrick asked.
‘I mean, it’s nice … but weird. I thought living in a fancy hotel would be dreamy, but I just get so –’ Perhaps a shrug was easier. I didn’t want to admit how alone I felt in that huge room sometimes.
