Whirlwind “Romance”

FREYA

A couple of weeks had gone by.

Liam and I were in the car, driving back from another “date,” when I received a slew of texts from Lucinda.

Lucinda

Keep up the good work, Freya!

Lucinda

Everyone believes that this is legit.

Her next text was a link to another NY Chatter article. I clicked through to read it.

NY Chatter

Caught in the Frey-a

Is it true? Has the notoriously wild and crazy Liam Henderson finally been captured and tamed?

That’s certainly what it looks like, since he’s been spotted out and about numerous times with his new leading lady, Freya Coleman.

It wasn’t easy finding out her identity, but with the magic of investigative journalism, we finally have a name to match the face of Liam’s redheaded vixen. But we don’t know much else about her…

Still, we can say for certain that ever since Liam and Freya were spotted at Mako two weeks ago, the pair have been absolutely inseparable.

From brunch in Chelsea, to picnics in Prospect Park…from movie nights to museum tours, these two are officially #couplegoals.

They can’t seem to keep their hands off of each other!

In the lead-up to Liam’s much-anticipated world tour, we wonder…will this blossoming love survive the woes of long-distance? Or will Freya join her man in Europe?

In the meantime, it seems that Liam’s new relationship is sending his ex Jazelle Ericson on a downward spiral.

She has been photographed getting sloppy drunk every night this week…and everyone and their mother has seen her embarrassing Snapchat meltdown.

Her team moved fast to delete the video, but the internet worked faster, honey!

Breakups are never easy and we feel for Jazelle…but over here at NY Chatter, we’re definitely #TeamFreya.

Comments:

Henderbaby44: Liam is in love!!!!! Everything is right in the world!!!

Gossip_lvr: This relationship won’t last another week. Mark my words.

HelloBarbie303: This Freya chick seems good for him. Rooting for them!

***

Martin pulled up next to the apartment building.

There were often photographers waiting for us, so Liam grabbed me by the hand and we walked quickly past the doorman.

“Thank God,” Liam groaned as we made it to the elevator. “I’m so full I can barely walk.”

“Me too,” I said. “That pasta was so damn good, though. Worth it.”

“That chef makes the best outside of Italy, I think.”

He sounded so worldly when he said stuff like that.

I’d never even been out of the country, and he was leaving on his third world tour in less than a week.

I couldn’t believe that the time had flown by so quickly.

In the long elevator ride up, we giggled about the night we just shared.

About my attempts to pronounce the Italian words on the menu…about the waiter with the unfortunate mustache…about the fan who asked for a selfie, but instead spilled an entire glass of water into Liam’s lap…

About the paparazzi’s reaction to the questionable stain that the water created…

It was a fun night.

Not pretend “fun” for the publicity.

~Real~ fun—the kind I hadn’t had in years, since before I met Liam.

And by the time we entered his apartment, I didn’t want the fun to end.

But as I was taking off my jacket in the doorway, his laughter stopped abruptly, and he said, “Good night.”

“Wait,” I said.

He looked at me, anticipating my next word. But I didn’t know what else to say.

“Do you want some tea?” I finally blurted out.

He hesitated for a brief moment before replying, “I’m good, thanks.” And then he walked down the hallway toward his room and slammed the door behind him.

Moments later, I heard the faint sound of his guitar.

This had become our routine over the past few weeks.

We would go on the most amazing, romantic dates, but the second we came home, he would disappear.

He always ended the night with his guitar in his arms, instead of me.

So I picked up my own midnight companion, the thing that always got me through the darkest of times…my paintbrush.

Sitting in front of a canvas, I picked up where I left off the night before.

Taking inspiration from the sketch that I had started in the recording studio, I was painting a portrait of Liam.

A beautiful face with a pained expression. In the painting, he was surrounded by images of opulence and abundance, but none of it brought him real joy.

As the tip of my brush curved around the likeness of his lips, I imagined what it would be like to kiss him if he was ~really~ kissing me back. Not just pretending to.

But I had to stop myself from getting ~too~ carried away.

I hated to admit it to myself, but Mason was right.

Liam needed me to help his image. And I was doing the most foolish, predictable thing I could do in my situation.

I was actually developing feelings for him.

~Like a fucking idiot.~

How could I fall for someone as untouchable as Liam Henderson?

It was an exercise in disappointment.

I desperately wanted to talk to someone about what I was going through.

But Mason would definitely say something like, “I told you so.”

And I had pushed away most of my close friends after my mom died.

~My mom.~

That’s who I really wanted to talk to. She would have known exactly what to say…~even about this totally bizarre situation.~

But the only ~living~ person that I had to talk about my feelings with was Liam.

But I could never do it. It would be too embarrassing. And the inevitable rejection, too painful.

As I began to highlight his hair with streaks of golden paint, I strained to listen to the song that he was tinkering out on his instrument.

~Where does he get inspiration for his love songs?~

~Has Liam ever actually been in love?~

I was dying to know. I poured all of my frustrations and unanswered questions into my portrait of this solitary man.

When my eyes couldn’t stay open any longer, I put away my art supplies and tucked the canvas in my closet.

I couldn’t let Liam see it. I didn’t want him to know that while he sat in his room, forgetting all about the date we had together, I was pining over him.

***

LIAM

I strummed my guitar mindlessly; all I could think about was Freya.

More specifically, the delicate green dress she’d worn that night.

The way it contrasted with her red hair.

The way the spaghetti straps hung precariously off her shoulders, threatening to slip down her arms…off her body…

She looked incredible.

After I freaked out about Freya’s outfit on our first date, Ryan had been dressing her in less revealing ensembles that left more to the imagination.

And it was safe to say that my imagination was running wild.

I’d never dated a woman for that long without seeing them naked.

Normally when I met a woman, it was first stop: bar—next stop: bedroom.

With Freya, it was different. I was actually getting to know ~her~ first.

~But no.~

I slammed the guitar down on my bed.

Over the past two weeks, I kept having to remind myself that she wasn’t actually dating me ~at all.~

She was just doing me a favor, and I was an idiot for reading into it any more than that.

~But if that’s the case, then why did she ask me if I wanted a cup of tea tonight?~

Was that because she wanted to keep the date going, in private?

Or was she just trying to be a good friend?

A good ~employee~, like the rest of them.

I didn’t want to read too much into such a simple gesture, but I couldn’t stand to be around her another minute without grabbing her waist and pushing her up against the wall.

I stared aimlessly around my empty bedroom before picking up my guitar again.

I hadn’t felt musically inspired like this in a long time, and it was all because of Freya.

FREYA

The next morning I was making coffee when Liam walked into the kitchen holding up a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” he asked me.

“Oh,” I said, recognizing the card stock, “my friend Darla is getting married this weekend.”

“Yeah, I can read,” he said with a chuckle, “but why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Didn’t seem important. I’m not going,” I said.

“Why?” he asked. “Weddings are the best kind of party. Open bar equals fun for everybody.”

“Darla and I aren’t that close anymore,” I reasoned. “And I’ll just get stuck there alone, talking to some creepy groomsman or boring uncle.”

“Why would you be alone?” he asked with a smirk. “It says here that you have a plus one.”

“Well, yeah, but like—I don’t have anyone to bring,” I said softly.

“Um, hello,” he said, moving closer toward me and waving the invitation in my face. “~I’m~ free Saturday.”

“No—no—Liam,” I sputtered. “You wouldn’t want to come to that.”

“Sure I would. If you’re there. And I haven’t been to a normal person’s wedding in a long time.”

“You’ll be swarmed by all the ‘normal people,’” I said with exaggerated air quotes, because I couldn’t stand when he used that phrase.

“You’d be recognized immediately,” I added. “I don’t want you to have to deal with that.”

“Freya, you’ve put up with so much bullshit and attention and speculation for my sake. It’s the least I can do, really. Let me be your date to the wedding,” he insisted.

~Is he being serious?~

~And if so, is this a real date?~

What scared me the most was that I didn’t even care if it was going to be a ~real~ date. And I didn’t care at all what his motivation was for offering to come with me.

I was just glad for the excuse to spend another evening with him by my side.

“So…” he said, “what do you think?”

One more time, for good measure, just to make sure he wasn’t joking, I squeaked out a soft, “Really?”

“Yes,” he said resolutely. “Really.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’m in.”

“Great, it’s a date, then,” he said, repeating the confusing word again. “I’ll call Ryan. Let’s outshine the bride and groom.”