The Feature

IX

Your heart was still thumping as you walked across the busy hall, your lips still tender, flesh still tingling with the memory of Ben's touch. You pushed your way through a large group of people, mumbling a string of insincere apologies and impatient 'excuse me's as you went, eyes focused on Nick as he sat at a table on the other side of the room.

"Sorry, I just need-" You forced yourself through a small gap of people, accidentally elbowing the woman beside you and spilling champagne from her glass all over her hand. "Oh shit, I'm so sorry."

She was taller than you; her slender frame draped in a pale gold dress, blonde hair falling in soft waves over her chest. She was pretty, even as she frowned at the champagne covering her left hand, the sparkling liquid dripping from a large diamond engagement ring, a thin wedding band slotted perfectly behind it. You looked at her again, eyes darting over her face; so familiar yet-

Wait. Is that... Faye Dennehy?

"It's okay, it's fine," she sighed, as if only reluctantly accepting your apology. "I'm sure it was an accident."

Oh my god. It is, it's her.

"It was an accident," you insisted, looking around frantically for something to dry the spill, before tearing a page from your notebook and pressing it to her hand like a napkin. "Here."

She glanced down at the sheet of lined paper, then back to you, raising one of her perfectly groomed eyebrows.

"I'm a journalist," you said, flashing your press pass. "Here for work."

"Well I'm afraid whatever you wrote on here is gone for good," she said, gesturing to the ink running across the page, the words too smudged to read.

"That's fine, really, I probably wasn't going to use that bit anyway."

You turned on your heels and kept going without waiting for a reply, too focused on making it to the table where Nick sat interviewing another celebrity you couldn't quite remember the name of. He was scrawling quickly in his journal, laughing and nodding along as you pulled up a chair beside him, tapping him on the arm - tapping and tapping and tapping until eventually, he gave in and turned to you.

"What?" he hissed.

"Hey, listen I'm really sorry but I have to go."

"What!?"

"I know, I'm sorry. But look, I'll make it up to you - After tonight, you don't have to do anything else for this article, I'll write the entire thing."

"You were supposed to be writing the entire thing anyway..."

You groaned. "Oh Nick come on! Please!"

"What's going on? Why do you have to go?"

"Because..." You trailed off as a rolodex of lies began to flicker through your mind, but before you could land on a convincing one, he began to speak.

"You're leaving to shag someone, aren't you."

"What? No!"

"You are. You've met someone and now you're going to abandon your friend at an event you dragged him to, all so you can go and get plowed by some fancy famous twat in a nice suit."

"Firstly, 'plowed'?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Secondly, it's none of your business. So will you just say it's okay for me to go?"

He paused, the beginnings of a smirk forming. "Who is it?"

"Ugh, Nick, for fuck sake come on please-"