“Holy shit, that’s Anthony Devine,” another one says, not quite as quietly as he probably intended.
Anthony steps closer to me.
“Nick, you ready to go?” he asks, his hand finding the small of my back.
Chad’s still staring, mouth slightly open. “You’re…? You two are…?”
Anthony’s forehead furrows, and he looks to me for an explanation.
“This is Chad,” I say. “Chad, Anthony.”
Anthony’s eyes widen. “You’re Chad?”
“Ah, yeah.”
Something changes in Anthony’s stance. He doesn’t puff up or get aggressive, but instead, goes still.
“Nick has told me all about you.” He says the words in a cool tone, leaving absolutely no doubt that the things I’ve said haven’t exactly been flattering.
Chad visibly withers under the weight of Anthony’s judgmental stare. For a guy who once told me I needed to “work on my presence,” he’s currently giving strong “kid caught cheating on a test” energy.
It’s incredibly satisfying to witness. I wish I had popcorn.
Then Anthony’s gaze moves back to me. “You want to head to my apartment, babe?”
I’m almost giddy, both at the fact that Anthony wants to continue hanging out and how he just thoroughly dismissed Chad exactly how he deserves to be dismissed.
“Sure,” I say. “I can think of a few fun ways to spend the afternoon.”
But Chad’s friends have other ideas.
“Ah, could we get a quick photo?” one asks, already pulling out his phone. “My girlfriend will die. She’s obsessed with your music.”
Anthony glances at me, and I give a tiny shrug. This is his life, I realize. These interruptions will come with being out in public with him. I don’t really mind though. I mean, having been a superfan myself, I understand how much a short interaction with Anthony could mean to someone.
“That okay with you?” he asks.
“Sure,” I reply benevolently. After all, even though this guy has bad taste for choosing to be friends with Chad, his girlfriend shouldn’t suffer for it.
Chad’s friends swarm Anthony like he’s a free sample station at Costco. Phones materialize out of nowhere.
“Oh my god, okay, so my girlfriend is literally obsessed with you,” one of them babbles while positioning himself for a selfie. “Like, she’s seen you in concert four times. She’s going to lose her mind. Can you say hi to her? Her name’s Brittany. Actually, can you say, ‘Happy birthday, Brittany’? It’s not her birthday, but she won’t care?—”
“Sure. Happy birthday, Brittany,” Anthony says, his voice warm, his smile camera-ready. But I catch the way his eyes dart toward the door and his gaze keeps drifting back toward me like he’s checking I’m still there.
Chad hasn’t moved. He’s just standing there, watching, his usual smirk nowhere to be found.
“Thanks, man,” the last friend says after getting his photo. “Sorry to interrupt your day.”
“No problem,” Anthony says, immediately moving back to my side and taking my hand. “Nice meeting you all.”
As we head for the door, I hear one of Chad’s friends say, “Bro, is your ex actually dating Anthony fucking Devine?”
“Shut up,” Chad mutters.
Outside, Anthony and I walk a few steps before I start to laugh. “That was kind of epic,” I say.
“So that was the famous Chad?”
