“Some bad things,” I clarify.
I don’t wait for him to respond. I’m already up and gesturing to the lobby, acting against every intuition in my being. As I walk, Trent puts his hand on the small of my back. I slap it away, and he doesn’t try again. I don’t look back to see whether William noticed or not.
The lobby is loud and full of people coming and going, but it’s better than the breakfast room with so many people filming.
I cross my arms and face Trent head-on. “What you did was unforgivable. And I’m not going to somehow try and forgive you. I’m not. You don’t deserve it, and I don’t deserve to pretend like it didn’t happen, either. It did. You dumped and humiliated me publicly.”
Trent raises his hand up for me to stop. “That’s—that’s not what happened. I never wanted for the camera crew to show up.”
“No, no. I believe you.” I give him a half smile. “You wanted to dump me minutes before my award. Which you knew I was both nervous and excited for, but you didn’t care. Because you never really cared about me, Trent. I don’t think you’re even capable of caring about someone who’s not…you.”
He shakes his head indignantly. “That’s not fair. Plus…I came all this way to tell you”—he takes a deep breath—“that I’m sorry. I messed up, babe. Hey, I’m apologizing.”
I look him up and down.
I can’t believe I spent so many months with him. Incredible how low my bar was.
“Good. You should apologize. But I don’t accept. I don’t have to, and I don’t want to.”
Trent seems to be processing this. Then something must click for him, or he remembers the script he’s planned. He smiles his stupid, fake smile. I never noticed before how much he looks like a shark.
“Anyway…whatever you say. But I see what you did, paying someone to follow you around, all to get my attention. It’s cute. You got it. You have my full attention.”
Closing my eyes seems like the best thing to do. I want to slap him, but that would make me the villain.
He continues as if he’s received nothing but positive feedback from me. “So I decided to break up with Reese. She would’ve never done all the things you’ve done for me. Like, actually hiring someone to pretend to be your boyfriend so I’d be jealous? That’s…that’s romantic.”
I open my eyes and stare at him with a cocked eyebrow.
“That’s not romantic, Trent.”
He comes a step closer to me. “Hey, I’m not judging.”
More sharp teeth. God, he’s gross.
“And it’s not what happened, either.” I press my lips together, scanning him for something lovable. He’s attractive, but he’s a copy of a copy of a copy.
There’s nothing remarkable about him. No curly hair, no crooked nose, no birthmark on his cheek, no funny socks, no bright smirk or weird sense of humor. Trent is plain. Bleak. He’s nothing.
“You’re still in love with me, Natalie. Quit playing games.” He comes closer still, putting a hand on my arm.
I’m physically repulsed. It’s an involuntary action, like someone hitting your knee and it jerking forward. I immediately take a step back, staying out of his personal space, staying away from his touch.
“Don’t,” I say.
If he hears me, he doesn’t listen. And come to think of it, throughout those eight months, he never listened. It was me talking into the void, and Trent thinking only of himself and his career.
I must’ve been an incredible stepping-stone for him.
Without warning, he grips my arm and pulls me closer. I put up my hands to push him away when he swoops in and crushes his lips against mine.
It isn’t romantic. It isn’t tentative. It’s possessive and it’s definitely without my consent.
It takes me a second to break out of the shock of it, though.
When I do, I see William.
He’s standing with Brenda and Padma a few feet away, where the restaurant meets the lobby. Brenda has a hand on his arm, but when he looks at me and I look at him, something breaks.
He blinks, like he’s swallowed something vile, nods at me in acknowledgment and starts toward the elevators. Brenda runs after him.
I turn to run after him too, but Trent is still gripping my arm. “Babe?”
“Oh my God, you dick!” I yell at Trent, not worrying this time about the possible scene I’m causing. Not worrying if anyone takes pictures or makes videos of this. “If you’ve ruined this for me, I’m going to hunt you down and end you where it hurts the most: your pathetic career.” I point my index finger at his face, and then turn away.
His hand tightens painfully on my arm.
Padma raises her phone toward his face. “Say cheese and we’ll have a cute video of another white boy who can’t take no for an answer, and I bet even your fans won’t defend you when this comes out.” She smiles, a dangerous glint in her eye.
Trent pauses.
He removes his hand from my arm and takes a step back.
“I didn’t—I’ve never. I would never.”
Padma narrows her eyes. “Right.” Then she turns to me. “Go get him, girl. I’ll stay with the douche and make sure he doesn’t cause any more harm.”
I nod to her.
I have the greatest friends in the world.
I’m jogging up to the elevator when five tweens come up at me. “Oh my God, it’s Natalie!” one of them says in a high-pitched voice. The elevator doors slide open. “I love your music. Can we take a selfie?”
Stupid music career. That I love with all my heart but—
I nod, spreading my arms so they’ll get in there as quickly as possible.
The elevator doors close.
The girls take a while to decide how they want to pose, and I suspect my face is a little more desperate in each one of the seemingly three hundred selfies they take. One of them says, “Your hair is different. Is that your natural hair?”
I touch it, and only then I remember that it’s my natural curls.
I nod, a bit absentmindedly, shooting the elevator another apprehensively look.
“That’s so fierce,” one of the girls says. “Are you going to wear it like that now?”
I give her a warm smile. “Maybe. Girls, it’s—it’s been lovely to meet you, but I really have to go, okay?”
They agree, but it’s too late—others have noticed, and they all head toward me. A mob of teens around my age comes this time, and it’s more than I can count. They start approaching me, some more decidedly than others, asking for selfies and autographs and lives for their friends. I turn around, and Padma is giving Trent a mouthful. He looks paler than usual. I turn back to the elevator, but it doesn’t magically bring William back.
“Natalie, Natalie!” calls a girl half my age, with crooked teeth and a bright smile.
I don’t want to be rude. I can’t afford to. Hasn’t all of this been about saving my image? But my heart’s starting to race far too fast. I need my asthma pump. I need to feel safe. Smile, smile, smile, and keep breathing. Inhale for four seconds, hold for seven, let go for eight.
Trapped in a small mob of fans who only mean well, I watch the elevator doors in a state of semi-panic. They open and close twice more, and then, on the third time, William emerges.
His eyes lock with mine mid-selfie. I part my lips, but something changes in the way he looks at me. It’s like bitter acceptance. Like he’s making up his mind about me.
I try to call out his name, but I can’t get any air into my lungs.
He leaves.
“That selfie doesn’t look good. You looked away! Can we take another one?”
Why can’t I make my feet move? He’s leaving. He’s leaving me.
I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.
Just smile. Take another selfie.
>
“Yes! This looks perfect.”
I don’t know how much time later—a few seconds? Minutes? A whole quarter of an hour?—Padma and Brenda both come to my rescue. I feel Brenda’s protective arms around me, pulling me away from the fans, and Padma flashes them her most charming smile and says that I’m needed somewhere else. The fans quickly get excited about DJ Lotus, and she takes my place.
“Brenda, I—” I turn to her, still lost. Numb. “I lost him.”
She says something I don’t quite get, and then her arms are around me. I’m still seeing white around the corners of my vision, my lungs still burning. I hear her voice echo in my head, Breathe, Natalie. Just breathe.
“Nati,” I correct her, my own voice sounding choked up and far away.
I’m not sufficiently there to see her reaction, but I do hear her calling my name another time, instructing me to keep breathing. So I do. I breathe in for four seconds, hold for seven seconds, and let go for eight. My head is pounding but my vision eases. I blink at her, and she lets go of the embrace. There’s a little smile in the corner of her mouth, and then Padma arrives, no evidence of Trent.
“What did I miss?” she asks.
“It’s Nati now,” Brenda says. I think this smile means she’s proud.
I nod slowly. More composed now, I clear my throat, my eyes trail after the exit.
Brenda adds, “Go get him.”
“Where are we going, lady?” the cabdriver asks, idling outside the hotel.
“Just wait a little bit longer, please. He’ll answer.”
NATALIE:
where are you?????
we need to talk
“Why don’t you call him?”
I narrow my eyes. Okay, so maybe the driver isn’t entirely against this happening. I lower my eyes to my phone and pause when my thumb’s about to hit his name. What am I going to say? I purse my lips.
For better or for worse…I press call, and it starts ringing.
The cabdriver sighs heavily.
I cover my mouth with one hand, the other pressing the phone so hard against my face that my ear grows hot. My legs start going up and down, up and down, up and down….
Damn it. I wish I’d brought my inhaler to Portugal.
“He’s not picking up,” I say, more to myself than the driver. “He’s not picking up.”
The guy shoots me a look through the rearview mirror and says, “We can go to the airport. That’s where everyone goes when they leave this hotel.” He shrugs and deliberately checks his watch.
The call goes to voicemail. I end it.
“The airport…” I’m still holding my phone. “That isn’t a bad idea.”
Though it is, kind of, because the idea of William leaving without saying goodbye hurts. But I bet it also hurt to see Trent kiss me.
I groan, throwing my head back against the pleather seat of his cab.
“Miss?” he insists. “If you’re sitting there, we have to go somewhere. This is my job.”
I nod, murmuring, “Okay. Let’s go.”
NATALIE:
i’m going to the airport
BRENDA:
romantic airport chase!!!!!!
catch him at the top of the escalator!!!!!!
PADMA:
i don’t care where
catch him before he leaves
I keep staring at my phone screen until it goes dark. I keep waiting for him to text me back or call. The twenty-minute drive to the airport is torturous. Eventually, I put the phone back in my purse. My bag is still at the hotel; Brenda did say that they’d take it back to Los Angeles if need be, but…
God, please make it not needed.
I hope Trent rots. It gives me certain pleasure to know that his acting skills are C+ at best, and that he’s only getting by because of his looks.
His looks will end. His personality will sadly last forever.
The driver pulls onto the freeway, and as I take in the busy traffic on both sides of the road, I’m cursing Faro. Why does its airport have to be so far away from everything?
“Are you all right, miss?” the driver asks.
I ponder telling him my life story, but instead I go with “Fine.”
“You seemed like you were going to have a heart attack back there.” He chuckles. “Don’t worry. A guy like that isn’t going to go very far.”
I frown, nearly strangling myself in the seat belt as I try to get closer to the driver seat. “What do you mean, ‘a guy like that’? Did you see him? William?”
“Nah, but I mean, they’re all the same.” He shrugs, eyes ahead. “Any guy that comes from that hotel isn’t going to get very far in the FAO.”
I scrunch up my nose. “FAO? What?” And then, a little offended, “I’ll have you know that William isn’t the same. Certainly not the same as Trent. He’s different. He’s…” I breathe out heavily. “Why did he have to leave?”
The guy gives me a concerned look through the rearview mirror.
“FAO is the airport. Faro Airport. I have no idea who William or Trent are, lady. I’m just saying people that stay in that hotel come from money, and unless your boyfriend is flying low-cost, there’s no way he’s leaving that airport for a long time.”
My eyes widen. My heart skips a beat.
“Oh, he’s definitely flying low-cost! Please, go faster!”
I slide back on my seat and murmur to myself, “I can’t lose him.”
Finally, my phone beeps. My heart races.
It’s him.
BRITISH BOYFRIEND:
I’m sorry. I’m going home. I can’t do this anymore.
No, no, no.
NATALIE:
i’m pulling up to the airport
i’m coming for you, ok?
this was ALL a big misunderstanding
As we pull into the departures drop-off lane, the driver wishes me luck on my romantic pursuits, and I’m out of the cab as fast as humanly possible. I rush into the airport trying to find the screen with departure times, looking around to see if I can spot William’s head of brown curls in the meantime. I hear a soft camera click here and there, maybe one or two fans who recognize me, but I’m trying not to pay attention to them, either.
Snap as many pictures as you want. No makeup, no hair done, no filter.
My phone buzzes again, and my heart warms when I see that it’s William calling. I take a deep breath for good luck and answer.
“William,” I say. “Listen, you have to let me explain.”
On the other end, William sighs. “I have to tell you somethin—”
I pause in front of the departures board, scanning it for the next flight to London. Cutting him off, I add, “No, please. Please don’t go. You have to let me explain.”
“This is so difficult….” He trails off, letting out a bitter laugh. “Hearing your voice makes it all so much more difficult. But I really do have to leave.”
I’m holding the phone so hard that my knuckles are turning white.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
There are no planes leaving for London right now, so he has to be somewhere near. I look around, frantic, only letting him speak for a few seconds as I search for him. “No, look, please, I’m here, come talk to me.”
“Actually, Nati, I—” he starts, but I cut him off again.
Hearing him say my name like this…
“I don’t want Trent. He’s irrelevant. I don’t want you to think—I care about you. He kissed me, and I didn’t kiss him back! I didn’t want to—I don’t want to be with him. I want to be with you.”
He’s silent on the other end for a few seconds.
“I figured. The kiss shocked me at first, but I figured…And I do care about you, too, it’s not…” He tsks. “I car
e about you so much. But I can’t do this. I have to go home. I have to go back to my world.”
My brow furrows. “You still think about it as my world and your world, as if I’m a princess and you’re a commoner or something? Well, guess what, William? You’re in the biz, too! And it’s okay if you prefer to keep it low-key and focus on the art. Because you’re…” I sigh. “You’re pretty wonderful the way you are. But don’t say your world and my world. I’m just…I’m just trying to find my place in this world.”
He breathes out softly on the other end.
To his benefit, he sounds as shattered and broken as I feel.
“I’m sorry, Nati. I…need some space. I need to think.”
“William,” I plead, almost a whine. Because I opened my heart to him. And this isn’t fair. I want things to go back to the way they were. Fake boyfriend minus the fake part. “Why?”
“Because!” he says, the exasperation clear in his voice. I cling to the phone, I hold my breath and close my eyes. Anything to keep this moment from being real. “I was trying not to think about it, trying to live in the moment with you, but…Trent is an arse, but that big scene at the hotel? Everyone recording it and elbowing one another? That’s…your life. And it isn’t the life I want for myself. I can’t live a life with no privacy, putting my family at risk, can’t put on a smile like that, like you can.” He takes a deep breath, and I wince. “And I guess I signed up for it. But it was because I thought I wouldn’t care. I thought it wouldn’t make a difference to me…but it does. And I can’t do this.”
“But…” I have nothing else to say.
He’s heard me.
It didn’t make a difference.
“I’ve been trying to tell you—I’m not at the airport. I’m at the train station, and my train is about to leave. Goodbye, Nati.”
Click. The call is over.
It’s all over.
Like a Love Song Page 16