‘What the bloody hell!’ Gee raged as he ran up to her outside All Bar One on the main concourse outside the arena.
People turned and gasped. Phones popped up, fingers pressing fast, all trying to catch Gee Knightley lose it in public.
Sheesh, she’d have thought he would have learnt by now.
‘Not now, Gee. Can we just go home?’ The swelling euphoria of having done something good was wearing off.
She could feel her muscles beginning to lock up one by one when she thought about how she was going to earn a living.
‘Ems…’ He wrapped his arms round her and held her close.
He felt amazing, solid and sexy, comforting and… he felt like hers. She wanted to melt into him. Let him bear the weight of her life, even for just a moment. She could feel his stubble against her cheek. He was whispering in her ear.
‘I’m sorry, darling. So sorry. I’ll go and tell them it was me. Tell me what you need me to do?’
Oh, the warmth of his breath on her ear. The memory of how he’d worshipped her neck flashed through her mind. Her body reacting to it. She wanted to turn her head, let their mouths line up. Let him kiss away the panic, unlock her muscles one by one. A kiss at a time.
She couldn’t help herself, she turned so that she could feel his breath on her lips. One more move and she could just taste him again.
Jamie.
She couldn’t do that to Jamie. And she wouldn’t take advantage of Gee. They were only just back to where they needed to be. She couldn’t bear to see him flinch back from her, the way his arms would fall from around her. How he’d have to let her down gently. But it would never be gentle because it hurt no matter what.
She felt his hands tighten. He was going to push her back.
No, she wouldn’t let it happen, not yet, she buried her head back in to his neck. He held still for a moment, before hugging her harder.
She wondered how those watching would tag it on social media. What stories they would spin about what they’d seen. A lovers’ quarrel maybe? But that wasn’t her job any more.
***
Being unemployed was strange. Waves of panic would crash over her at the oddest times. When leaning over to grab a bag of potatoes in the supermarket, and suddenly realising it was ten o’clock in the morning and that she should be at work. Or when the alarm went off, so she could get to her early morning Psycle class and realising she didn’t have to book classes around the job anymore.
It didn’t help that as soon as she and Gee had got home, he had left. Not in a bad way, she couldn’t even think that. No, it was a completely legitimate job. So, she rattled around the house, alone. She needed to get used to it.
Or mostly she was alone. It seemed that Gee had been giving out spare keys at whim.
‘I need someone to sort out my social media.’ Lewis had let himself in and then threw himself down on her sofa. When there was a perfectly good second sofa on the other side of the room.
‘That’s nice,’ she said. Was he going to stay? Should she pause the episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race she was on? Her marathon re-watching of all the seasons was well under way. And it was a completely valid way of destressing, no matter what anyone else said.
‘Emma. I need someone to sort out my social media,’ he said louder.
He really wasn’t going to go away, she thought. Reaching a hand out of her cocoon of blankets she paused the TV show. Why did he have to come in when it was the good bit, when the contestants were about to put on sunglasses and throw shade at each other?
‘Okay, Lewis. You need someone to help sorting it out, but what? Twitter or that god awful mess of an Instagram account that has your name on it? I know some good companies that I can put you in touch with.’ Surely this was something his management and PR team should be dealing with?
‘Let me start again.’ He wiggled his bum to get more comfortable, pushing her legs up. She loved Lewis, she really did, but he did seem to like interfering in her life.
‘Are you quite comfortable?’
‘Well, a cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss,’ he said hopefully. ‘But first. What I’m saying is that I want to hire you, Emma Woodhouse, to sort out my social media.’
Eh? Her? Why would he do that?
She lay there staring at him. He trusted her with telling his online life story?
‘As in give advice or actually help you shape the story?’ she asked quietly.
‘The whole thing, sweetie. I want you to help work out what my brand strategy is, in partnership with my team. And then come up with the tactics we’ll use on social media. I’ve seen what you can do. You’re good.’
‘But what about…’ She’d lied for people, she’d let lies be told. She was the one who was telling the lies.
‘Hey, we all go rogue at some point and get tempted to the dark side. But you saw the light, I spoke with Will and Ed. I know what you helped them do at the end. And I know you. You are loyal, Ems. I want you with me.’ He added, ‘Oh, and they send their love. Collectively. From their flat, which they still live in together no matter what the Daily Planet says.’ He winked.
‘Are you sure?’ She sat up, the remote control falling from her lap.
‘That they’re still together? Of course I’m sure.’ He looked confused.
‘No, I meant about me doing your social media,’ she replied.
‘Oh, thank god because I was starting to worry that you of all people had begun to believe all the spin, which meant I’d have to stage an intervention.’ He patted her leg. ‘I want you on my team. And you can start thinking strategy when you meet the rest of them at the “Great Valentine Masquerade” which is, as you know, tomorrow.’
‘I’m not coming to another of your parties.’ She balked. Why did Lew and Harry have this need to throw extravagant masquerade bashes for the corniest of holidays? She wondered if it was some secret kink they shared. It had bad enough at Halloween. But Valentine’s Day, having to hang round at a party full of couples or people looking for love… She shuddered. Salt in a very raw wound. Okay, so people would be in disguise, but that made it worse. She had gone off the whole wearing a mask thing.
‘Nope, you are coming to the party. Don’t even fight me on this.’ Lewis sank lower in the cushions. ‘And I take my tea strong, a dash of milk and no sugar. Ta lovely.’ He smiled at her.
‘Bloody hell,’ she muttered, untangling herself from the blanket.
‘And hurry up,’ Lewis called as she left the room. ‘This bit where they do the shade is my favourite.’