Secretly dating a celebrity♡

Chapter 8:

After a few seconds that felt much longer than they actually were, Luke finally spoke. His voice was cold, controlled, like he had already made a decision.

“No,” he said flatly. “I don’t know her. I’ve never seen her in my life.”

He didn’t look at Heather when he said it. Instead, he pulled out his phone, scrolling aimlessly, pretending to read something that didn’t exist. The lie sat heavy in his chest, but he didn’t let it show.

Heather stayed still.

On the outside, she acted normal—too normal. She kept her posture relaxed, her expression neutral, like Luke’s words hadn’t landed at all. But inside, something twisted uncomfortably. She hadn’t expected him to admit anything, but the way he erased her so easily stung more than she wanted to admit. She told herself it didn’t matter. This was safer. This was necessary.

“Oh… alright then,” Jake said, clearly relieved, though there was still a trace of uncertainty in his tone.

Luke looked up briefly. “So,” he said casually, still not meeting Heather’s eyes, “are you going to reveal your relationship online, or are you keeping it a secret?”

Jake smiled instantly, the tension melting off him. “Secret relationship,” he said. “I’m not ready yet. I don’t want the fans going wild and hurting my baby.”

Before Luke could react—or stop himself from thinking—Jake leaned down and kissed Heather on the head. It was gentle, natural, familiar.

Luke didn’t flinch.

At least, not on the outside.

He kept scrolling on his phone, his expression unreadable, his jaw tight. He didn’t look at them. He didn’t comment. He didn’t tease. He acted like it didn’t affect him at all.

But something inside him shut down.

That moment made it real in a way nothing else had. Heather wasn’t just someone from a mistake anymore. She wasn’t just a memory. She was standing right there, choosing Jake, being chosen by Jake. And no matter how tangled Luke’s feelings were, there was one line he would never cross.

She was with his best friend now.

And the last thing Luke could ever do—no matter how much it hurt—was betray Jake.

So he stayed silent.

And in that silence, he let go of something he hadn’t even allowed himself to name yet.

Luke stood up suddenly, pushing his chair back.

“I’ll leave you two lovely birds alone,” he said with a forced half-smile. “I’m going out.”

Jake glanced at the time on his phone, confused. “At this hour?”

Luke shrugged like it was nothing. “It’s just the balcony. I need a smoke.”

Before either of them could say anything else, he turned and walked away. His steps were confident, controlled, like he wasn’t carrying a storm inside his chest. He didn’t look back. He didn’t want to.

The moment he stepped onto the balcony, the door sliding shut behind him, the act fell apart.

The cool air hit his face, but it didn’t calm him. His heart ached sharply, like someone had pressed on a bruise he didn’t know was that deep. He leaned his hands against the railing, staring out at the city lights below, jaw tight.

Out of all people… why Jake?

He let out a slow breath, rubbing his face with one hand. It wasn’t anger—at least not the kind he could easily place. It was confusion mixed with frustration, guilt mixed with something he didn’t want to admit. He hadn’t known Heather was Jake’s girlfriend. He hadn’t planned this. But that didn’t change anything.

Jake was his best friend.

Luke straightened, pulling out a cigarette, lighting it with steady hands that didn’t match how he felt inside. He took a drag, not because he needed it, but because it gave him something to do—something to focus on that wasn’t the image of Jake kissing Heather’s head.

He replayed the moment again and again. The way she had smiled. The way she hadn’t looked at him afterward. The way he had said he didn’t know her.

The lie still sat heavy in his chest.

Inside, he could hear muffled laughter—Jake’s voice. Normal. Happy. That hurt more than anything else. Jake deserved that happiness. He deserved honesty, loyalty, trust.

Luke exhaled smoke slowly, staring into the distance. “Of all people…” he muttered quietly.

He could have walked away earlier. He could have said something. But he hadn’t. And now it was too late.

Heather had made her choice. Or maybe the choice had already been made for all of them.

Luke took one last drag and crushed the cigarette out, gripping the railing harder than necessary. He wasn’t going to interfere. He wasn’t going to confess. He wasn’t going to be selfish.

But

No matter how much it hurt.

Luke's fingers dug into the balcony railing, his knuckles turning white as memories flooded him - the way Heather's nails had clawed at his back that night, how her thighs had trembled when he pinned them apart. The image burned behind his eyelids: her brea.sts bouncing with each brutal thrust, those pretty lips parting around his name as he buried himself to the hilt.

His c*ck throbbed against his jeans at the memory of how w*t she'd been, how her tight little cunt had clenched around him like she was trying to milk him dry. He could still hear the filthy sounds they'd made - skin sla.pping against skin, her breathy whimpers when he'd snarled "Take it dee.per" and shoved her face into the mattress.

⸻

Luke shook his head slightly, trying to clear the memories crowding his mind, then headed back inside. Jake and Heather were still there, close to each other, laughing softly, acting natural—comfortable. Luke felt a strange mix of emotions, but he pushed them down quickly. He was genuinely happy for Jake. Or at least, he wanted to be. Whatever this was, he wanted it to stay exactly as it was. Untouched. Safe.

Later that night, the house was quiet.

Luke had never been the type to sleep early. His mind rarely slowed down enough for that. He sat alone in the living room, the lights off, the glow from his phone lighting up his face as he scrolled aimlessly. He wasn’t really reading anything. He was just distracting himself.

Then suddenly, the lights came on.

Luke blinked, instinctively lifting his head. Heather stood near the switch, her hand still hovering there. She froze for half a second when their eyes met.

Luke looked at her.

Then he looked away.

His expression shifted instantly to disinterest, his face calm, unreadable. He went back to his phone like she wasn’t even there.

Heather hesitated, then moved toward the kitchen. She grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and drank slowly. The silence between them was heavy, almost uncomfortable. She tried to focus on the water, on the sound of it filling the glass, but her attention kept drifting.

Her gaze lingered on Luke.

She noticed the way his hair fell slightly into his eyes, messier than earlier. The sharp line of his jaw, the tired look he didn’t bother hiding now that no one was watching. He looked relaxed, but there was something tense beneath it, something closed off.

She swallowed.

Heather told herself she shouldn’t be looking. She had no reason to. But her eyes traced every detail anyway—his posture, the way his thumb moved across the screen, the way he avoided looking at her at all.

Luke felt it.

He didn’t look up, but he could feel her staring. It made his chest tighten, his grip on the phone stiffen slightly. He kept his focus on the screen, refusing to acknowledge the moment. He wasn’t going to open that door. Not now. Not ever.

The silence stretched.

Heather shifted her weight, fingers tightening around the glass. She wanted to say something—anything—but nothing came out. Instead, she took another sip of water, pretending she was just there for that.

Luke finally stood up without a word, slipping his phone into his pocket. He didn’t glance at her as he passed, not even for a second.

Heather watched him walk away.

And for reasons she didn’t fully understand, that hurt more than if he had looked.