Secretly dating a celebrity♡

26

Luke slid back into the car, the door shutting with a dull thud behind him. He leaned forward immediately, elbows on his knees, rubbing a hand roughly through his hair like it might somehow clear the chaos in his head.

“To my dorm,” he said quietly. “With Jake.”

The driver nodded and pulled away from the curb.

Luke took his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, then locked it again without doing anything. Notifications blurred together. Missed calls, messages, reminders—none of it mattered. His chest felt tight, like something was pressing down on it from the inside. After a moment, he dropped the phone back into his lap and turned toward the window.

City lights passed by in streaks of white and gold. Normally, he barely noticed them. Tonight, everything felt sharper, louder, heavier.

Then he saw her.

Or at least—he thought he did.

A woman stood on the sidewalk near a crosswalk, her back turned, her hair falling in the exact same way. The same length. The same movement when the wind brushed against it. Luke’s breath caught painfully in his throat.

His heart started pounding.

It couldn’t be.

But what if it was?

“Stop,” he said suddenly.

The driver didn’t react. Music hummed softly through the speakers.

“Stop the car,” Luke repeated, louder now, his voice breaking through the haze in his head.

Still nothing.

“Stop the car!” he shouted.

The driver startled. “Yes, sir—sorry.”

The car came to an abrupt halt. Before the driver could say anything else, Luke shoved the door open and stepped out into the street, ignoring the confused looks from passersby. His pulse was racing as he scanned the sidewalk.

There.

He moved quickly, almost running, calling out before he could stop himself.

“Heather?”

The woman turned slightly, confused.

Luke’s steps slowed, but he kept going, hope and fear twisting painfully together in his chest.

“Heather,” he said again, quieter this time.

He reached her and gently turned her around.

It wasn’t her.

The woman gasped, eyes wide in shock. She stared at him for a moment, then recognition dawned on her face.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “You’re… you’re Luke.”

He stepped back immediately, shame and disappointment crashing down on him all at once. He ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he said automatically.

Her shock quickly turned into excitement. “I’m a huge fan,” she said, fumbling in her bag. “I—can you sign something?”

Before he could respond, she turned around and handed him a pen, pointing awkwardly at her back. “Please?”

Luke hesitated for half a second, then pasted on the familiar, practiced smile he’d perfected over the years. The one that didn’t reflect how he felt at all.

“Sure,” he said.

He signed quickly, neatly. By the time he handed the pen back, people around them had started to notice.

Whispers spread fast.

“Is that Luke?”

“He looks even better in person.”

“Wow, he’s so tall.”

“He’s unreal.”

“No way, he’s right there.”

“He’s insanely handsome.”

“I didn’t expect him to be this attractive.”

Phones started coming out. Luke turned toward the small crowd, bowed slightly, polite and controlled.

“I’m really sorry,” he said calmly. “I’m in a hurry tonight, but thank you for the support. Have a good evening.”

Then he turned and walked back to the car without looking back.

As soon as the door closed, his composure shattered. He leaned back against the seat, covering his face with his hand as tears slipped through his fingers. He pressed his lips together, trying to stay silent, but the pain felt endless.

He didn’t know how long this would last.

He didn’t know if he’d ever truly move on.

All he knew was that losing her—without closure, without answers—was slowly tearing him apart.

The driver said nothing, only drove.

When they arrived at the company building, Luke stepped out and headed straight toward the dorm he shared with Jake. Their apartment felt familiar, safe in a way nothing else did anymore.

As usual, he’d forgotten his keys.

He rang the doorbell once.

Nothing.

He rang it again.

Still nothing.

The third time, the door finally opened.

Maria stood there.

Luke wasn’t surprised. Not even a little.

“Move,” he said flatly, trying to step past her.

She blocked the doorway with her arm.

“Not so fast,” she said.

Luke stopped, exhaling sharply. “What now?”

She tilted her head, lips curling into a faint smile. “Not even a ‘hi’? Or ‘how have you been’?”

Luke ran a hand through his hair again, frustration burning just beneath the surface. “I don’t have time for this.”

He stepped around her and walked inside.

Jake was in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove. The moment he saw Luke, he froze completely, panic flashing across his face.

“L-Luke,” Jake stammered. “When did you—”

Luke didn’t let him finish.

“I already know,” Luke said calmly. “And it’s your business.”

Jake swallowed, guilt written all over his face. “Luke, I—”

Luke shook his head. “I’m not mad.”

It wasn’t a lie. He was too exhausted to be angry.

He walked past them both and headed straight to his room, closing the door behind him.

Inside, the silence felt heavy.

Luke sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring down at the floor. Everything felt out of control—his heart, his career, his family, his future.

And Heather was still gone.

He lay back slowly, staring up at the ceiling, one arm covering his eyes as the weight of everything finally settled in.

He wondered how much longer he could keep going like this.

And whether the version of himself he used to be was gone forever.

Luke lay back against the bed, one arm draped over his eyes, staring up at the ceiling like it might give him answers if he looked long enough. His room was quiet—too quiet. The kind of quiet that made thoughts louder, heavier. Heather’s face kept slipping into his mind without permission, the way she used to look at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, the softness in her voice when she said his name.

His phone buzzed.

He ignored it at first.

Then it buzzed again.

With a tired sigh, Luke lifted his arm and glanced at the screen. An unknown number. He frowned slightly, then opened the message.

It’s Gwen. How are you? Have you gotten home yet?

He stared at the words longer than necessary. His thumb hovered over the screen. Part of him wanted to lock the phone and toss it aside, pretend he never saw it. It felt wrong—wrong to reply, wrong to let someone else in when Heather still lived so vividly in his chest.

But another part of him was curious.

What would it feel like… to try?

To talk to someone without history, without pain attached to every memory.

He unlocked the phone and typed back.

I did. Safely.

The reply sent, he exhaled slowly, like he’d just crossed some invisible line. Almost immediately, another message came through.

Have you eaten?

Luke let out a quiet laugh under his breath. He rubbed his jaw, then typed anyway.

Have you?

The typing bubble appeared—then disappeared.

Seconds passed.

Luke frowned slightly, about to set the phone down when it buzzed again.

This time, it wasn’t a text.

It was a photo.

Gwen sat at what looked like her kitchen counter, cheeks slightly puffed out, a strawberry held between her lips mid-bite. Her eyes were wide, playful, and completely unguarded. There was something soft about the photo—something honest.

A small smile tugged at Luke’s lips before he could stop it.

He stared at the picture longer than he should have.

Are your parents home yet? he typed.

No… still out of town, Gwen replied.

It’s quiet again.

Luke swallowed. He knew that kind of quiet.

Do you not like being alone? he asked.

The reply took longer this time.

I don’t hate it, Gwen finally wrote.

I just don’t like how loud my thoughts get.

Luke closed his eyes briefly.

That hit too close.

I get that, he typed.

Silence can be… heavy.

A few seconds passed.

Can I ask you something? Gwen sent.

Luke hesitated, then replied.

Go ahead.

Do you always sound so tired?

He paused. His fingers hovered over the screen, unsure how honest to be.

Lately, yeah.

Why?

He leaned back against the headboard, staring at the opposite wall. Heather’s laugh echoed faintly in his memory, unwanted and sharp.

Because I lost someone, he typed.

Then, after a moment, added:

Not to death. Just… life.

The response didn’t come right away.

When it did, it was simple.

I’m sorry.

No pressure. No questions. No pity.

Just those two words.

Luke exhaled slowly, surprised by how much that alone eased something in his chest.

Thank you.

Another pause.

Then:

You don’t have to talk about it with me, Gwen added quickly.

I just wanted you to know I’m listening.

Luke glanced at the photo she’d sent earlier, still open on his screen. There was no calculation in her smile. No expectation.

He typed before he could overthink it.

What are you eating besides strawberries?

Almost instantly:

Pasta! Linda made it. She says I eat like a child.

Luke chuckled softly.

She’s probably right.

Hey!

I can be mature. Sometimes.

Sometimes?

Okay… rarely. But I try.

The corner of Luke’s mouth lifted again. It felt strange—smiling like this. Lighter. Temporary.

Heather crossed his mind again, guilt twisting briefly in his chest.

But he didn’t put the phone down.

What about you? Gwen asked.

What are you doing right now?

Luke glanced around his room. The dim light. The familiar walls. The emptiness.

Lying on my bed. Thinking too much.

That sounds dangerous, she replied.

You should stop doing that.

Easier said than done.

Then let me distract you.

Luke raised an eyebrow at the screen.

How?

Another picture appeared—this time of Gwen holding up a stuffed animal, one he vaguely remembered seeing earlier in her room. Its fur was dark, almost black.

Meet Shadow, she wrote.

He’s been with me since I was little. Don’t tell anyone.

Luke smiled, genuinely this time.

Your secret’s safe.

Good. He doesn’t trust easily.

There was a pause. Then:

Luke?

Yeah?

You don’t have to like me, she wrote carefully.

I know your heart is somewhere else. I can feel that.

Luke’s breath caught.

But I’m okay with being here like this, she continued.

Just talking. No pressure.

He stared at the message for a long time.

Heather was still there. She always would be.

But right now… Gwen was here too.

And for the first time in weeks, the ache in his chest felt just a little less sharp.

I appreciate that, he finally typed.

More than you know.

On the other side of the city, Gwen smiled softly at her phone, pulling her knees to her chest as she reread his message.

And on his bed, under the quiet glow of his screen, Luke let himself breathe—just for a moment—without thinking about what tomorrow might take from him again.

Luke’s phone buzzed again.

He glanced down without much thought—then froze when he read the message.

Tomorrow is my birthday… since my parents won’t be around, can you?

The sentence trailed off, unfinished, like she was afraid to ask the rest. Like she didn’t want to pressure him. Luke stared at the screen, his chest tightening in a way he didn’t expect.

Her birthday.

He sat up slowly, resting his elbows on his knees, phone hanging loosely in his hand. The room felt different now, heavier again—but not in the same crushing way as before. This was a quieter weight. One that came with responsibility.

Heather’s face surfaced immediately in his mind. He almost laughed at how automatic it was, how every decision still seemed to circle back to her. He imagined what she’d say if she were here. Maybe she’d tease him for overthinking. Maybe she’d tell him to stop punishing himself for feeling anything at all.

Luke exhaled and rubbed his thumb over the edge of the phone.

He typed. Deleted. Typed again.

Finally, he sent:

Can I what?

The reply came almost instantly, like she’d been staring at the screen the whole time.

Can you spend it with me?

You don’t have to do anything big. I just don’t want to be alone.

Luke leaned back against the headboard, eyes drifting to the ceiling again. He remembered his own birthdays—lavish parties, expensive gifts, rooms full of people who didn’t really know him. He remembered how lonely those days still felt.

He swallowed.

What do you usually do on your birthday? he asked.

A pause.

Then:

Nothing, really.

Sometimes Mum leaves a gift on the table before flying out. Dad sends a message late at night. That’s kind of it.

Luke’s jaw tightened.

That’s… not okay, he replied before thinking.

Another pause.

I’m used to it, Gwen wrote.

I just thought maybe this year could be different.

Luke closed his eyes.

He didn’t want to be anyone’s replacement. He didn’t want to pretend. But this—this wasn’t about romance, or obligation, or his father’s plans.

This was about a girl who didn’t want to spend her birthday alone in a house that felt too big.

What time is it tomorrow? he finally typed.

The typing bubble appeared. Disappeared. Then:

You mean… you might come?

He didn’t answer that directly.

What time?

A smiley face appeared with the reply.

Anytime you want. I’ll be awake early anyway. I never sleep well before my birthday.

Luke let out a quiet breath.

I have rehearsals in the morning, he typed.

But I can come by in the evening. If that’s okay.

Several seconds passed. Longer than before.

Then his phone buzzed—twice.

That’s more than okay.

Thank you, Luke. Really.

He stared at the words, feeling something warm and unfamiliar settle in his chest. Not love. Not yet. Just… presence.

Don’t thank me yet, he replied.

I don’t even know what I’m doing.

You being there is enough, Gwen wrote.

I promise I won’t expect anything else.

Luke believed her.

That scared him a little.

Get some sleep, he added.

It’s late.

Only if you promise to sleep too.

He smiled faintly.

I’ll try.

Goodnight, Luke.

He hesitated, then typed back:

Goodnight, Gwen. Happy early birthday.

On the other side of the city, Gwen sat on her bed with her phone pressed to her chest, eyes shining—not with excitement, but with something softer. Relief. Gratitude. Hope she tried hard to keep small.

And in his dark room, Luke set his phone down beside him and lay back, staring at the ceiling once more.

Tomorrow.

For the first time in a long while, tomorrow didn’t feel like something he was dreading.

Heather was still there, lingering in the quiet corners of his heart. She hadn’t left. Maybe she never would.

But tomorrow—just for a few hours—he would show up for someone else.

And maybe, slowly, he would learn how to show up for himself too.