Okay, this is my first proper romantic story, I'd really like some opinions on it. Be honest
Chapter 1
Dear Aunt Clara,
Three months ago I broke up with my boyfriend and I was so upset I went out to a bar for some time by myself. The trouble is I got really drunk and ended up sleeping with this guy that I’ve known for a while. We both agreed it was a mistake and decided to get on with our lives. Now I’m perfectly happy with a new boyfriend, but recently I discovered that I’m pregnant. I’ve only ever been with these three guys, but I’ve no idea who the father is and I haven’t told any of them yet. What should I do?
Anonymous
My hands were trembling as I folded the letter. I knew that writing to an agony aunt in a teenage magazine was a corny idea, but I felt I had no choice. This situation was much too scary for me to deal with on my own. I’d actually taken three pregnancy tests in a desperate attempt that maybe it was just a mistake, but they’d all come out positive. I pulled my copy of Spicy towards me and began writing out the address. I didn’t want to imagine how ‘Aunt Clara’ would react if she knew that the three guys I’d been with happened to be three of the most famous men in the world. News that was certain to cause another major tabloid scandal, alongside several others that I had already created by:
Dating Prince Richard after meeting him at university then breaking up with him a year later
Sleeping with Jack Ashby just weeks after he’d divorced his wife
Dating Jordan Berry and breaking up with him very publicly few days later.
And now getting together with Nicholas Thorpe.
Oh, and also being voted The Most Talked about Woman of the Year
Now I was stuck in the biggest rut ever and I could see no way out. At least I could rule out the possibility that Jordan Berry was the baby’s father; he and I had never actually slept together. Two weeks later, I met Nicholas at a big awards ceremony in London and instantly fell in love. After that the tabloid stories about me seemed never-ending.
I had actually been the subject of an article that had appeared in that month’s copy of Spicy magazine. The article was titled: Celeb Girls: Losing Their Touch? Going from ‘Wahey’ to ‘No Way'! and consisted of carefully scrutinizing the dating history of four ‘celebrities’ with pictures of them and their boyfriends, linking them with the headings: This hot girl… went from this hot guy… to this kinda cute guy… to this total minger. Of course, the appropriate photos were accompanied by painfully witty captions.
The unfortunate girls were Britney Spears, Kerry Katona, Kate Moss, and me. I was right at the bottom, underneath all of the others, starting with a picture of me and then, in order, Prince Richard, Jordan Berry and Nicholas at the end.
I couldn’t help but notice that they hadn’t actually included Jack Ashby – that little slip-up might have been too strange even for them. It had been too wild and crazy for most newspapers to publish. One tabloid managed to print a very short account of the incident, ending with the words ‘Now you know why you should never let yourself get so drunk that you end up doing something stupid’.
It was lucky that the media hadn’t actually discovered that I’d had a crush on Jack Ashby back before I was famous, and not just because of his rich superstar status. The night that we’d got together I had been a little tipsy, perhaps, but not so drunk that I was unable to control my own actions.
When I went to the bar that night I was upset about my break-up with Richard, and Jack was depressed about his recent divorce. We already knew each other as we’d met at a party a few months before. Richard had introduced me to Jack, knowing that I was a big fan. Of course he hadn’t known about my past feelings as I had kept that a secret for years even from my closest friends.
So we both went to the same bar, met up, got chatting, had a drink together, talked for a short while about our break-ups and old memories without being recognised by any of the locals – or so we thought. One thing led to another, and we ended up getting a taxi back to Jack’s hotel room together.
I still don’t know how the newspapers managed to find out, but two days later, the story and a photo of me leaving the hotel were splashed across the front of what seemed like every newspaper and magazine in the world. The story was titled ‘Courtney Jennings Goes From Fresh-Faced Royalty to Ageing Rock Star’, and went on for two whole pages, including statements from several people who had seen me and Jack together in the bar and then head back to his hotel room in a taxi.
Any normal couple in that situation would have been too embarrassed to even speak to each other about the incident afterwards, but Jack and I very dignified about it. As soon as we woke up together the next morning we knew that it had been a mistake. A passionate night together, but a mistake nonetheless.
I had actually admitted to having feelings for him a while back, even though I had regarded it as a silly schoolgirl crush, and Jack had admitted that he thought I was a very attractive young girl, but it was wrong time, the age gap was too big for us to simply ignore, and the media would certainly never let us forget it. He was just so kind – his biggest worry, he said, was that he may have hurt my feelings, because I was still so young and vulnerable. But I assured him it was all right, that what he said made perfect sense, and that we could of course put this incident behind us and just stay friends.
The sound of a car horn in the street outside awoke me from my daze. Shaking my head slightly, wondering where I was for several moments, I glanced down at the magazine article again.
The first picture, of course, was one of Prince Richard smiling – I’d forgotten that most girls in the UK considered him a total hottie. The caption underneath read: What a pity; to think that Courtney could have been the next Queen of England....
The next picture in the line was one of Jordan Berry, with his ruffled blonde hair looking rather cute, and that caption read: Jordan Berry might have been fit, but they still split after only 10 days.
The last picture in the news article was probably the most painful for me. It was of course one of Nicholas, not exactly what I’d call the most flattering picture of him, and the caption underneath read: All together now: couldn’t she have chosen someone more normal?
I groaned. How dare they write things like that? Nicholas was a beautifully kind and wonderful person and did not deserve to be talked like that. I hadn’t shown him the article, of course – I didn’t want to upset him. We were perfectly happy now, we’d been together for six lovely weeks, and nothing could possibly come between us.
I glanced fearfully down at my stomach.
Except this.
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