I Was Born for This(38)

I don’t even remember Lister disappearing after the BRITs party. Maybe because I was talking to Magnet in a corner.

‘It was just a hook-up, though,’ he says, glancing at me, almost nervous for some reason. ‘Didn’t mean anything, really.’

I roll over so I’m facing him fully now. It’s easy to see why so many people want Lister Bird. He’s got all the classic features of a male model – the sharp jawline, slanted brows, straight nose, piercing eyes, and he’s naturally slim too, without having to exercise like Rowan does. And he’s white, so he’s got the edge with the racists of the world. He was voted number one in this year’s Glamour’s 100 Sexiest & Hottest Men, MTV’s 50 Sexiest Men Alive, and HerInterest’s 100 Hottest Men in the World, all of which it was finally acceptable for him to qualify for, since he’s over eighteen now. He’s commonly cited as a ‘celebrity crush’, even by straight men, and he rejects modelling opportunities weekly.

Everyone wants to have sex with Lister Bird.

‘Who was the first one?’ I ask.

‘First time I had sex?’

‘Yeah.’

He pauses again, as if debating whether to tell me.

‘It was when I was sixteen,’ he says. ‘With some woman we met at a recording studio.’

‘Woman? How old was she?’

Lister laughs.

‘She was thirty-two,’ he says.

My mouth drops open in horror. I sit up, leaning on one elbow. ‘Thirty-two?’

‘Yeah, but it’s fine. It’s not like I didn’t want to do it. I mean, I was nervous, but, like, she didn’t force me, or—’

‘That’s not right,’ I say.

‘What?’

‘That’s too young.’

‘I knew what I was doing.’

‘No, you didn’t,’ I snap. ‘She did. She took advantage of a teenager who didn’t know what he was doing and probably thought that he was getting an actual relationship out of it. A few months younger and that would be legally classifiable as rape. Imagine if you’d been a sixteen-year-old girl and she’d been a thirty-two-year-old man?’

Lister lies very still as I speak, his face expressionless.

‘Are you angry at me?’ he says.

‘Do you just have sex with people to make them like you?’

‘What? No!’ He sits up too. ‘No, and I don’t do that any more anyway—’

‘Well, you had sex with that girl at the BRITs this year—’

‘God, you’re just like Rowan,’ he spits out, then climbs off the bed and away from me. ‘I didn’t think you’d react like this as well.’

My stomach drops a little. ‘You told Rowan?’

He doesn’t say anything.

‘Why did you tell Rowan and not me?’ I ask, just confused now. What’s his problem with me?

‘I didn’t want you to know about it,’ he mumbles. ‘I didn’t want you to judge me. But I guess you did.’

‘I’m not judging—’

‘Neither of you get it. It’s different for me.’ He turns to me with one last pleading look. ‘You and Rowan have each other but you have to see that it’s different for me. Being Lister Bird.’

I just shake my head. ‘What does that mean?’

The final bit of hope in his expression drops, and he stands up from the bed and walks towards the door.

‘Why else would anyone want to be around me?’ he says. ‘I’m Lister Bird. Why else would anyone want to be around me other than to get with me?’





Juliet peers round her front door with a mix of fear and disbelief on her face.

I ended up telling her the truth about the situation over the phone, but she hadn’t believed me. She thought I was joking. Even when I told her that it wasn’t a joke. Three times.

‘You weren’t joking,’ she says, speaking to me but staring at Bliss Lai, who is standing next to me.

‘Well, no,’ I say.

Juliet still looks like an eighteenth-century widow in mourning. She’s legitimately wearing black – black jeans, black T-shirt – and her eyes are a bit red. I almost feel bad. Has she been crying about this? I know she loves Rowan, but … she didn’t think she had a shot with him, did she?

‘Hi,’ says Bliss, cutting through the silence. She puts one hand on her hips and grins sheepishly, as if this whole situation is an administrative error. ‘So sorry about this.’

Juliet takes a long look at Bliss. Then she stands up straight, flicks her hair back, and says, ‘Don’t be sorry, none of this is your fault. Whatever dickhead leaked those photos deserves to go to prison.’

Bliss relaxes at Juliet’s words, and Juliet ushers her inside, taking her bag, asking her if she wants tea, laughing and joking and generally acting like she’s known Bliss for years. Bliss follows her, a little confused but visibly relieved, and she shoots a quick grin back at me as she follows Juliet into the house.

I breathe a sigh of relief and wonder why I ever doubted Juliet. I make friends with good people.

The three of us are standing in the kitchen, chatting casually and getting to know one another, when the door creaks again and Mac peeks his head round the frame.