Chapter 5
five
ASTRID
I was putting my most beloved books on their shelf when I received a text from someone I preferred to ignore.
Shit Guitarist
U alrite?
I tossed my phone on the bed, ignoring the barely decipherable text babble.
Instead, I focused on the shelves of beautiful colourful spines and limited editions that took up about half my suitcases. I had yet to unpack my clothes, but my books needed a place to live. I’d spent the weekend looking for an antique shelf to display them on. Mission accomplished. It was time to put my new shelf to good use.
“Knock, knock.”
I saw Amara’s smiling face in the doorway.
“You got a sec?”
“Sure,” I answered. “Just unpacking my books.”
“Oh my God, is that a copy of Rebecca ?” Amara gushed.
I knew we’d be friends.
“You love a Gothic novel, too? ”
“Certainly. I mean, if… that’s what this is. I thought it was a romance.”
I chuckled. “No. That is a limited edition signed by DuMaurier herself.”
“Either way, fascinating book. Wait… is this in French?”
“Many of them are. I know I can buy them here, of course. However, I prefer to read in French if I can. I’ll be reading what—1000 pages a week—in English? It might break my brain. I need comfort reads.”
“Sounds smart.”
She looked down, picking up my phone.
“Ignore it,” I sighed.
“Who is this? Shit guitarist?”
I groaned, putting a leather-bound foiled edition of a Lisa Kleypas historical on the shelf. That was a present from Odette from years past. If she read it, she’d be scandalised, but it was one of my most beloved bodice rippers.
“It’s an ex… if you could even call him that,” I said. “I had this short thing with him off and on over the past year. He’s with this band—Riot Elephant.”
“What? Is this Tim Sheers?”
I sighed, “Yes.”
“You slept with Tim Sheers?”
I didn’t. I also wasn’t about to say I didn’t because sleeping with him gave me some degree of credibility as a full-fledged adult. I didn’t want to come out and admit I was a helpless virgin who’d never done more than snog like teenagers in a hallway next to roadies. I was also unwilling to say why he hurt me most—or detail how I found out he was cheating on me over the summer. The wounds of my mortification still stung.
“It ended poorly. I feel stupid for even having trusted him a second. I was paranoid he might share some of his sexts with the world, but he hasn’t done so yet. I think he’s too stupid to figure out he could make money on it.”
Amara giggled.
“Seriously, Amara, he’s daft.”
“He’s gorgeous, so I don’t fault you for falling for it. Men are pigs—especially rockstars, right?”
“Again, stupid of me to fall for his dumb ass.”
“I’ve experienced the same with men who are way less hot. At least you had fun. Also, please don’t feel like you can’t talk about this around me. You can tell me. I swear I’m trustworthy, darling. Don’t hold back. We’re friends, for fuck’s sake!”
Friends ? That was lovely. I smiled, relieved. I made a friend already!
“Oh, love, we’ve all been there. Don’t feel stupid. That’s a musician for you!”
“Why would he text me all those things? Say all those things?”
“Because he could. Because some people get off on it.”
“It hurts.”
“It will, but you must get back on the horse, darling. Let’s get you over him by getting you under someone.”
I laughed. “I guess that works.”
“Paige McAllister is throwing a party. There will no doubt be men there. She’s on my course and lives just up the way. We’re still hot. It’s a waste if we don’t go out, right?”
I nodded. “But it’s 11. You think they will still be there at midnight?”
“Fuck yes!”
I had no idea how house parties worked.
“Things don’t get hot until midnight, love. Thank God you’re with me. We’re going to break you in properly!”
I smiled and rested my head on her shoulder. “Thank you, friend.”
“Anytime. We stick together! Nepobabies forever!”
I giggled. “Forever together!”
I wasn’t in the mood for a party but was determined not to let Tim ruin my good time. I had a friend. I had a social life. I was going to learn so much in the next year, and I deserved so much better than his cheating on me right there in front of the press. A Deschamps girl never gave up.