Page 46 of Just Like You
“What?” I said weakly, following him into my kitchen where he started to unload groceries and tinned cocktails and things I couldn’t really make sense of. Sweets. Spicy crisps. All my favourite things in the world. And chips. A large box.
Because that was Sonny, and that was why he was the man he was. The only one that mattered. Or so I’d thought.
“Meant to say, got bored last night and went on the prowl.”
“You didn’t.” I wanted to sound more enthusiastic, but obviously failed, as he spun around and gave me a hug.
“You’re okay. You know that, don’t you? You are absolutely okay.”
“Don’t feel it.”
“Which is why I am here. We’re going to turn all this moping you have going on into something else.”
I was usually more excited to have him over and would normally have been filling glasses full of ice by now. Instead I was sat on a chair in my own kitchen wondering what was going on.
“Nice watch,” he said, motioning to the Patek that was slung around my elbow. “It’s too big for you.”
“I know,” I muttered. I wanted to take it off. But I couldn’t. “I’ve lost it.”
“It’s right there?” He cocked his head, motioning to my wrist.
“No, babe. It’s his watch. I can’t let it go, and it’s bloody confusing. I’m not like this. I’m never like this!” I almost shouted, as he gently spun around. Sat himself down on the chair opposite, then dragged it along the floor, making my head hurt. Everything hurt. Why did everything fucking hurt?
“Look, Jules. I love you. I love you more than anything, and I don’t want to see you hurt. Right now? You’re fucking hurt, and I need to stab you a little more to get through to you. Okay? I hate that I have to, but here we go.”
“Okay?”
“Stop. Right now. This is not healthy, this obsession you have with a guy that you’ll never see again. It’s weird, and it’s not sane. And the guy you’re sat here pining after is not who you think he is. So straighten that spine and listen to me.”
“The fuck?” I sighed. He took out his phone and opened up Instagram. Social media. Hated it. Couldn’t bear it, so I shook my head.
“This is Gina DeSanto. We love Gina DeSanto don’t we?”
“Yes.” Did we? Who was she again?
“Staunch defender of queer rights. Hosts pride galas. Hosted bloody Eurovision. You with me?”
“Yes? And?”
“Her boyfriend? She’s been with the same guy for years. YEARS, Jules.”
“And?” I shouted. Fuck him. Fuck everything. “What the hell, Sonny?”
“Her boyfriend’s name is Kieron Andrieu. So shut the fuck up with this whining and get over yourself.”
There he was. Right in my face, smiling into the camera with his arms wrapped around…Gina DeSanto.
Well.
That should have taught me, my fucking weird obsession with not having bloody Instagram and only using my phone for important things.
Instead I was reading books and watching films, and now I was sat here reaping the benefits of my insanity when the world was exploding around me.
I was an idiot.
And Kieron Andrieu? A big fat fucking liar.
“A liar deluxe,” Sonny said, trying to calm my swallowing of spit at the same time as I felt like I was choking. “He’s apparently openly bisexual according to Wikipedia. But we all know that can’t be trusted.”
