Bring Me Home

My neck snapped back in surprise. “To your house? Do I want to come to your house?”

“Unless you’d rather spend the night with Liam. He’d be happy with that, I can promise you.”

Great. So this Liam dude was a slut and Chrissie, seemingly, was falling for it. When I looked over, I saw her stroke his face.

“Umm…” The nerves didn’t make sense. I’d slipped back into friendship with Hugo so easily, as if Harry Potter had whipped out his wand and erased the last eight years from existence. Even now, I sat on his knee, had fallen into his arms like I would almost daily, all those years ago while we listened to the legends. Queen. Bowie. Elton. Genesis. Yet…the thought of visiting his house filled my belly with butterflies.

“You going shy on me, Heli?”

Yes. Yes, I was. “As if. I’d better check with Chrissie, though. I can’t just dump her.”

“She can come, too.” He offered. Selfishly, I didn’t really want her to. I didn’t want to share him, spend the night listening to her dig for celebrity gossip and probe about how rich he was. “Or I can arrange for someone to give her a lift home?” I preferred that idea.

“I’ll go and talk to her.”

Turned out, Chrissie didn’t want a ride home; she wanted to keep Liam ‘company’ for a little longer. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. She didn’t know him. But Hugo did, and because of who Hugo was, if she ended up back at their hotel, she’d be surrounded by good security, at least.

Getting to the car felt like we were undergoing a secret mission. I felt like a Bond girl, following my sexy spy into the unknown. We had to wait for signals from guys wearing headsets before we could move from one part of the building to another and then, once outside, we ran to the car, heads down before anyone could see us.

“That was so crazy,” I said, catching my breath as I slammed my door closed. Hugo climbed in next to me, while a driver fired up the engine and started driving before we’d even finished fastening our seatbelts. Little did I know it was about to get even crazier.

A group of girls were waiting around the corner as the car veered out onto the street, blocking our path. They banged on the windows, making me jump. “Hugo!” They yelled. “Hugo, we love you!”

“Shit,” I murmured under my breath, scooting away. I knew they couldn’t see us as well as we could see them through the tinted glass, but they still managed to incite panic into me. I felt ridiculous being afraid of a bunch of teenage girls, but they were remarkably aggressive in their adoration for the man next to me.

“Can’t you put your foot down?” Hugo called to the driver. He sounded frustrated. Anxious. I couldn’t blame him. The girls were loud. Crazed. Relentless. One threw her entire body against his window, making him flinch. I noticed Hugo pluck a tiny pouch from his pocket before inserting two silicone buds into his ears. They didn’t block sound completely, he’d told me earlier during the bustle below the arena, but minimised frequency.

“As soon as this one moves from the hood.”

I focused on Hugo instead of the window, his face calming me while the banging continued. It felt wrong, somehow, with our roles reversed like that.

“Hugo! Hugo! Please, I love you so…” the girl’s scream faded into the distance when, finally, the car started moving again. I hoped she could survive knowing Hugo never heard the end of her declaration. That was a lie. I didn’t give a shit.

“Is it always like that?” I asked, heart still racing a little. It seemed crazy. Literally not normal. Those girls were obsessed with an image, nothing more. Infatuated to the point they were experiencing genuine emotional distress. Over Hugo. My friend. It didn’t make sense.

“Not always.” Hugo looked amused...and relieved. He pulled the buds from his ears, tucked them back in their pouch. “Like, if I’m not doing a show, I can pretty much just go about my business like everyone else.”

That surprised me. I don’t know why, maybe it was because of movies and gossip columns, but I’d always thought stars had to be driven everywhere, had bodyguards glued to their side at all times. “You mean, like, you just…walk down the street? Nip in Tesco for a loaf of bread? On your own? And no one notices?”

“Pretty much. Depends on the area, I suppose. Sure, some people notice, but most just have a quick stare, nudge whoever they’re with and get on with their day.”

“That’s…”

“Insane,” he finished for me.

“Yeah! It’s weird. Even when I’d see you on TV or trending on Twitter, it’s like I knew you were this big famous dude now, but my brain just couldn’t think of you like that. I found it so strange watching people get so…fixated on you.”