Chapter Fifty-Two
Ollie
The following weekend I find myself standing in Leicester Square at a premiere of a really shit-looking film.
We are here because Sam mentioned to Romy at Liv’s birthday party that he was on the red carpet as a guest, or he’s interviewing the cast or …
something. And Romy thinks it will be cool to see people she knows on the red carpet.
I suppose it will be. But also weird. And a bit embarrassing, for us to be caught there watching him.
‘Do you think Aurora will be with him?’ Romy asks, distractedly, as she glances around.
‘I don’t know,’ I say honestly. In a way I hope she is here.
It would be lovely to see her all dressed up and walking along a red carpet.
But in a way I hope she’s not here. I don’t need to see her on Sam’s arm only a week after the last time.
She touched my hand. So much was said. And so much wasn’t.
But Aury’s here. Of course she is. And I can’t work out if it’s torture or not.
It feels like a lifetime ago that I saw her on a Tube advert on the Underground, and now I’m above ground in the same location watching her walk the red carpet.
Aury stands and poses with Sam as the flash of camera bulbs goes off all around her, paparazzi yelling at her and Sam: Over here, over here. Look this way.
I don’t know why I’ve come. I don’t know why I do this to myself.
Romy could have come without me. She stands next to me, the low metal fencing dividing us from the stars, and squeals when she sees Sam, calling out to him as if they’re old mates.
He glances in her direction and gives Romy the same smile he gives everyone.
Then his matinee-idol smile falls on me and I don’t smile back.
I don’t know why. Because I’m petty. That’s why.
I watch Aury as she walks slowly away from the film-branded backdrop she’s being photographed against. People call her name. She’s obviously more famous than I thought she was. The followers on her Instagram account whizz up by thousands every time she’s tagged in with Sam on social media.
‘Aurora!’ Romy shouts and I cough on my takeaway cup of coffee.
‘For fuck’s sake, don’t do that. Why are you shouting for her?’ I demand.
‘Because we know her,’ Romy replies quickly and then shouts Aurora’s name again.
I know her. You’ve met her once, I think, but don’t say.
Aury sees us and blinks in surprise and then a wide smile lights up her face.
I can’t help but smile back, and Romy shouts her name again, even though Aury definitely knows we’re here.
She starts walking over and I feel tense all of a sudden, expectant, watching Aury, who always looks like a goddess, walking towards me in a silver sequin minidress. She takes my breath away.
‘Hiiii,’ Romy says, and Aury gives her a smile as my girlfriend speaks to her about … I don’t know what. I’m not really listening and her chat is getting drowned out by hundreds of people around us, shouting to get the attention of other ‘celebrities’.
‘Hi,’ I mutter to Aury when her gaze lands on me. ‘You look …’ I remember Romy is here, ‘something,’ I finish with.
‘I look something?’ Aury asks and laughs.
I’m back to being that guy who can’t hold a conversation with her, who says all the wrong things. I thought that guy was in the past. But he’s back. With a vengeance.
‘You look fantastic,’ I say quietly, my words drowned out by the crowd.
Aury moves towards me, and I reach over the waist-height metal fencing holding us plebs back from the megastars.
She reaches over and holds me tightly – I can feel her heart hammering in her chest. She must be more nervous than she’s letting on.
And then I feel her heartbeat slow against me and she pulls back and looks at me.
‘Thank you for coming,’ she says and directs the comment to both me and Romy, who I forgot was standing right there for those few precious seconds Aury was in my arms. ‘It means a lot,’ Aury goes on. ‘Really.’
I don’t like to tell her I was forced to come, that I didn’t even know she’d be here. But the fact that she is has made my week.
Someone in a suit, clutching a clipboard, is trying to get her attention to move Aury along into the cinema and she tells me she’ll call me soon, that we need to meet up and ‘Why do we always leave it so long?’ I know it’s rhetorical, because she’s gone before I can answer. Not that I’d know what to say anyway.