‘No. He bought me enough already. Girls, wait until you see the dress he got me for tomorrow.’ A dreamy sigh floats from my lips at the memory of it.
Savannah’s gone strangely quiet. Her pupils flick back and forth across the screen of her phone like she’s reading something.
‘What?’ I straighten my spine and shimmy closer. ‘What is it, Sav?’
What Dan did has traumatised me. Every time someone stares at their phone, I immediately panic that my life is once again in tatters.
Savannah swallows thickly. ‘They know it’s you, Holly.’ She hands over her phone with a sympathetic look. A brief article lights the screen.
The search for Nate Jackson’s new beau is finally over. The action hero star has barely been spotted out in public since issuing a statement confirming his split from actress Celeste Occhialini, but it looks like Holly Hazelwood, an art teacher, who’s better known for her topless appearance in a recent viral TikTok video, has snagged Ireland’s most eligible bachelor and is Nate’s new squeeze.
If the Twitter hashtag #notrightforNate is anything to go by, Holly’s not the public pick for our national treasure.
Click the link below to see exactly what Nate Jackson’s squeezing this Christmas.
The urge to vomit overwhelms me. The first few twinkling bars of Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ sound through a speaker somewhere, mockingly. The public is right. I’m not right for Nate. I’m nowhere near good enough for Nate. They’re only tweeting what I’ve always known. But that doesn’t ease the searing pain shooting through my chest.
I’m mortified. And not for myself, but for him. ‘I need to go, girls.’ I grab my handbag, my coat, and the gift I bought for Nate.
‘Wait, we’ll come with you.’ Savannah leaps to her feet and downs the remaining dregs in her glass.
‘No.’ I raise my hand, motioning for her to stay where she is. ‘It’s fine. I just need some time alone. I’ll call you later.’
I practically run out the front door of Heaven on Earth, bouncing straight into two guys on their way in. ‘Sorry,’ I mutter, hopping into the taxi they arrived in. The driver raises an eyebrow in the rear-view mirror and I give him my address, not Nate’s parents. There’s no way I can face them, or him, right now.
Traffic is heavy and annoyingly slow. I inhale a deep lungful of cool air, then blow it out slowly, attempting to steady my hammering heart.
‘Do I know you?’ the driver asks.
‘I just have one of those faces.’ Why on earth did I think coming back to Dublin was a good idea?
In the secure bubble of Ard Na Mara, neither Nate nor I thought our relationship through.
I underestimated the interest people we don’t even know would take.
Maybe Nate did too.
I pull out my phone, which is on silent as usual. I have fourteen missed calls from Nate and a voicemail. Pressing the phone tight to my ear, I listen to Nate’s concerned message. ‘Holly? Where are you? Call me when you get this.’
‘Where to?’ The taxi driver’s eyes keep flicking up to the mirror. When they fall to my chest, I know he’s just realised why he recognises me.
In the thirty minutes it takes to get to my house, I replay his voicemail over and over again.‘Call me when you get this.’
I can’t.
We’re worlds apart and it’s never been more obvious.
I throw the taxi driver a fifty euro note and hop out of the car without looking back.
The street outside my house is swarming with paparazzi wielding cameras bigger than their heads. My heart pounds in my ribcage. Raging anxiety consumes me. My hands shake so hard my entire body rocks on the seat.
I’m not cut out for this.
I take a deep breath and keep my head down as I power up the pathway to my front door.
‘She’s there! Look!’ a man’s voice booms.
‘Holly! Holly!’ My name’s being called from every direction as I hastily haul the house keys from my handbag..
