Scandalized(21)

“I was living with Spence,” I remind her. “I didn’t see it.”

“Alexander Kim’s face has to be all over London!”

I nod. “Practically every tube stop. He’s everywhere. I have no good excuse, I just—” I drag my hands over my face. “I wasn’t tuned into the television world. All I was thinking about was this tiny handful of terrible people in the nightclub world. Be glad I didn’t come across him when I was there, and trust me, I feel stupid enough without your help.”

She pries my hands away and then lies down on her side next to me, propping herself on an elbow, head in her hand. “Start from the top.” Her warm brown eyes soften. “Where did you see him first?”

“Airport.” I tell her how I knew I’d seen him before—she snorts at this and then claps a hand over her mouth, promising with a look to behave. I describe how I couldn’t remember his name and how when I did remember at the hotel, I called him Alec.

“I think that’s how he knew I didn’t know him from TV,” I say. “And he dropped hints a few times—seriously, I am so incredibly dense—but I didn’t get any of them.”

“I bet that’s why,” she says quietly.

“Why what?”

“Why he let you use his shower. Why he bought you drinks. Why… all of it.”

“Because I knew Sunny?”

“Well, and because you didn’t really know him.”

I hate this sentence and have to work to not let the hurt pass over my face. The problem is that I did feel like I knew him. I felt like I showed myself to Alec and he showed himself to me, and we were real together. But obviously, that wasn’t true.

“Oh. No, no, no, that expression doesn’t work for me.” She leans over, studying my face. “Let’s move on from that.”

“Yes, let’s.”

I describe going to Alec’s room, the shower, the heavy tension afterward. “I felt him everywhere,” I say, adding at her giggle, “I mean, even with my back to him, I could have probably estimated how far away he was to within an inch.” I look at her and wince because I know this is going to absolutely shred her poor fangirl heart in the best way: “He has such an intense presence in person. It’s honestly insane.”

She screams, covering her face with both arms. “This is terrible.”

I nod. “It really is.”

“I can’t believe my best friend had sex with Alexander Kim.” She pauses, dropping her arms, eyes widening in renewed realization. “George, you had sex. With Alexander Kim.”

I sigh. “I sure did.”

Finally, Eden sits up and composes herself. “So,” she says with forced calm after a few deep breaths, “the sex was good?”

The image of him moving over me, teasingly inching his way in, crashes into my thoughts. His face tilted to the ceiling, upper lip glistening with sweat. The recollection sends me spinning, filling my chest with a tight, uncomfortable ache.

“It was.” I don’t want to say too much because it feels so deeply personal, even still, but I’m sure she hears the way my voice comes out thin and shaky.

Holy shit, he’d said. What is this sex?

And I knew exactly what he meant.

“Actually, I’m ruined,” I mumble in confirmation.

She smacks her hand down on the mattress. “I knew it.”

I laugh. “Eden, don’t be weird.”

“You do realize you slept with my actual perfect man?”

I nod. “I admit I feel sort of guilty.”

“You should! I’ve loved him for a decade! If I came to you and said, ‘Last night I slept with that hot New York Times editor you love,’ are you trying to tell me you wouldn’t piglet all over my story and ask for every detail?”

I grin up at her. “I think we both know I am not the intrusive one in this relationship.”

“Says the journalist!”

“Speaking of which…” I plant my hands on her back and roll her off my bed.

She looks up at me from the floor. “I hate that you’re not more high-pitched and hysterical about all of this. I truly want to lose my mind that my best friend had sex with the man who is arguably on his way toward being the biggest BBC star of the decade and I can’t even tell Becky or Juan about this, can I?”

“No.” Her bartending team is a cluster of adorable, gossipy knuckleheads, and my experience with Alec would end up as a vaguely dishy post on Instagram within an hour. But I do know what she means. I don’t feel giddy or deliciously slutty. I mostly just feel tired and a little sad. “I think I’d be more bubbly about it if he’d been honest about who he was.”

“But maybe he liked that he could be anonymous with you.”

I nod, chewing my fingernail and thinking about what he said again.

I’m really happy to be here with you. Exactly how it was… Whatever happens after this, I want you to promise to remember that. “I just feel a little used.”

“I would let Dr. Minjoon Song use me however he damn well pleased.”

I laugh. “I know you would. And I’m sorry to tell you, but it’s everything you’d hope.”

She falls back onto the floor, speaking to me from the grave, with her arms crossed over her chest. “He gave you underwear and a plane ticket, and you’re not even going to call him?”