That’s Jasper and his fragile, pathetic little ego for you. Getting beaten up doesn’t register for him, but God forbid you don’t know who he is when you punch him in the face. That’s the real crime.
The crowd quiets down a bit and I notice Graham comes back into the room. He’s not hiding himself, which surprises me. He gives me a little wink and a grin before heading over to Norah. The two of them step aside, and based on the look she’s giving him, I don’t think their conversation is pleasant.
“Hello? Katie?”
I wince again and look back at Jasper. I hate his whiny voice and that stupid hair. “Yeah, sorry.”
“Did you see my Insta post? I got, like, two million likes. Killed it. I think Adidas wants to sponsor some content, and I’m like, fuck you, pay me, you know?” He laughs to himself, scrolling through his own Instagram feed.
I smile at him and look away. I’m tempted to take my phone out and scroll but for some reason, I stop.
I want to tell myself that it’s not because Graham’s here. It’s not because he keeps glancing over at me, judging me with those intense and beautiful eyes of his. I’m not trying to impress him. I’m not ashamed of what I am.
I care about Instagram. I care about Facebook and social media and all that stuff. I have to, I mean, it’s my job. I’m not just a singer, I’m a brand and a presence online. People care about my tweets and posts, I get thousands of likes and retweets. It’s totally insane, honestly, but it’s part of the job. If those numbers start to slip, I know I’m doing something wrong.
But looking at Jasper, buried in his phone like that, makes me want to puke a little bit. I don’t know why, maybe it’s the insane level of selfishness, something like that. Or maybe it’s just because I’d rather talk to Graham than stand around my supposed boyfriend.
Norah finally finishes telling Graham off after nearly ten minutes and he leans up against a wall, completely apart from the party. People are avoiding him, although they keep glancing in his direction. I wonder what the tabloids are going to say about that little incident. I bet Jasper is pretty excited for all the extra press he’ll get.
God, what a weird way to think about things.
“I’ll be back,” I mutter to him and walk away. He doesn’t even seem to notice as I thread my way through the crowd, smiling and nodding at people, but heading straight for Graham.
He notices and cocks his head, a little smirk on his lips as I finally approach him.
“Here to tell me off, too?” he asks me.
“Nah. Looks like Norah did that for me.”
He chuckles. “Not the first time she’s called me a little stupid fucker,” he says.
“She said that?” I’m honestly surprised. I’ve never heard Norah curse before.
“Oh, sure. Girl’s got a mouth on her.” Graham crosses his massively muscular arms. “What are you doing talking to me? I thought I was persona non grata now, yeah?”
“Fuck it,” I say, which makes him smile. “I mean, I guess I don’t care.”
“I tackled your boyfriend,” he points out.
“I know. I loved it.”
He barks a little laugh. “Did you now?”
“Yeah. And he’s not really my boyfriend.”
He seems to perk up at that. “I thought he was. That’s what you said.”
“Well…” I bite my lip and step closer to him. He doesn’t move but I feel like he just took me into his arms and pulled me tight against his body. “Truth is, that whole thing is fake. Our publicists set it up. You’d be surprised how many Hollywood romances are faked.”
“Maybe,” he admits. “You people really do that?”
I shrug. “Sure. We get pictures taken together, get some time in the media, and then move on. The breakup always gets good coverage. People love that stuff.”
He grunts a little and frowns. “Isn’t that dishonest?”
“Maybe,” I admit.
“Your fans care about you.”
“I know.” I look away from him, suddenly self-conscious in a bad way. “It wasn’t my idea.”
“I see. So what do you think of your, ah, fake boyfriend?”
“He’s okay,” I admit. “He has his moments.”
“What’s he do?”
I can’t help but laugh at that.
“What?” he asks.
“Jasper would lose it if he heard you ask that question,” I say, still grinning.
He smiles a little. “So I guess he’s, what, a musician?”
“Actor.”
“Ah.” He shakes his head. “So even less talent then.”
“Pretty much. Just a pretty face.”
Graham cocks his head and looks at me carefully. “You’re a lot more than just a pretty face, aren’t you?”
I glance away from him for a second. “What makes you say that?”
“I can see it. You’re not chattering away like everyone else in here. You’re not staring at pictures of yourself on your phone.”