Faking with Benefits : A Friends to Lovers Romance(106)
“I don’t have time for this!” I burst out. “Just tell me that you’ll delete the pictures!”
“It’s too late, hon. You’re all celebrities now, remember?”
“What does that mean?”
“They’re all over social media. That’s where I found them in the first place. Surprised you haven’t seen them yet, honestly. I—”
I hang up and slam the phone onto the coffee table. Josh and Zack have stopped arguing and are both watching me warily. “Check our Twitter,” I tell Josh. He’s the one who controls all our shared socials.
He frowns. “What? But—”
“Now,” I snap.
Frowning, Josh fishes his phone out of his pocket and taps at it a few times. His face goes slack as he stares at the screen. “Oh my God.”
Goss Magazine @Celebrity_Goss_News You won’t BELIEVE these pictures! Insider leaks photos of THREE SINGLE GUYS cheating scandal!!!
Sweetheart Soulmates @SweetheartSoulmatesPodcast We hate to say we told you so, but…
Lola Snow @LolaSnowOfficial ? That slag Layla cheated on her costars like a DOG. Three Single Guys has been my FAVE podcast for years, breaks my heart to see the boys get played :’( #EndLaylaThompson
Goss Magazine @Celebrity_Goss_News ‘End Layla Thompson’ - Celebrity influencer Lola Snow starts online hate campaign against the former podcast host, amassing thousands of retweets in less than an hour
SIXTY-SEVEN
LAYLA
Curled up in the crisp sheets of my huge hotel bed, I stare out of the window, watching raindrops slide down the glass. It’s late evening, and amber headlights flash down the wet roads below as cars make their way through central London, navigating the after-work traffic rush. The honks of car horns mingle with the rhythmic thudding echoing through my bedroom wall, interspersed with occasional feminine whimpers and soft grunts.
It sounds like my neighbours are having a good night.
I’m too sad to even put in earphones to drown them out. I’m too sad to do…. Anything, really.
It’s been four days since the wedding, and I still feel completely and utterly decimated. I used to think movies overplayed heartbreak; that the image of a girl in her pyjamas, crying in bed and eating pints of ice cream, was just a dumb stereotype.
Now I know the truth. Movies underplay the pain. I can barely get out of bed. My whole body hurts. I feel like I’ve been ripped apart.
And I hate it. I hate the guys for making me feel like this. I hate myself for putting myself in a position where I could be hurt this badly.
I look around the hotel room, taking in four days’ worth of clothes and room service trays strewn across the expensive furniture. Maybe it was cowardly to go to a hotel instead of just going back to my own flat, but I can’t be in the same building as the guys right now. I can’t lie in my bed at night, knowing they’re just a few metres away. I can’t handle the thought of accidentally bumping into them in the corridors or standing next to them in the lift. I already had an overnight bag packed for the wedding. It was far easier to head into the city and pay for a new suite.
To try and cheer myself up, I booked into a really, really nice place: a five-star, right on the bank of the Thames. As I turn back to the window, the London Eye glows at me through the glass, its bright red lights reflecting off the surrounding high-rises and sky-scraping office buildings. I thought that staying in a posh hotel might make me feel better — that the California King bed and luxury jacuzzi would help remind me that, even though my relationship failed, the rest of my life is still going great.
It didn’t work. A California King is ridiculously huge when you’re only one person. Especially when you’re used to curling between multiple bodies to sleep.
My laptop dings under the covers, and I pull it out, squinting at the screen. It’s another notification. I swipe it away, feeling sick.
My social media has exploded in the last few days. Apparently, some prick at the wedding reception decided to secretly photograph me with the guys, and then blast the pictures onto every social media platform under the sun. And now all our listeners are calling me a slag online.
It’s funny. I’ve analysed those photos so closely. In every single one of them, it’s the guys who are coming on to me. Luke is kissing my cheek. Zack is pulling me into his chest. Josh is tipping my mouth up for a kiss. But of course, everyone naturally assumes I’m the slag.
I don’t understand it. The listeners knew that I was going on dates with all three men. They’ve spent weeks fighting over which guy I should ‘pick’. Three Single Guys has recorded multiple episodes on group relationships in the past. But for some reason, as soon as everyone saw those photos, their first assumption was that I was a total ho.
To make matters worse, the guys haven’t said anything. The first couple days after the wedding, I kept waiting for them to write a post or upload an episode explaining the situation. They never did. All they’ve done is tweet one very bland PR statement, asking people to ‘please not spread rumours when they don’t understand the context behind the pictures’.
Obviously, since they didn’t actually explain what happened, that did absolutely nothing.