Page 67 of The Ex Factor

Molly snorted. She dropped the empty bean pod into the ceramic bowl. ‘That’s exactly what the tube violinist used to do. He’d explain the circle of fifths to the nurse while she was trying to iron her scrubs. It’s a very specific kind of showing off.’

‘It’s annoying,’ Ashley said.

‘It’s pathetic,’ Molly corrected.

She looked out the window. A man with an SLR camera was hanging about. He had his back to them, but he was holding the camera under his armpit, so the lens was pointed back at their table. ‘He’s not very subtle, is he?’

‘He doesn’t need to be subtle. He just needs the pictures to be clear enough for the Daily Mail sidebar.’

Molly looked back at her plate. Her expression went a bit flat. She picked up a piece of ginger with her fingers and put it in her mouth. ‘We should look more coupled up then. Otherwise, Karen will text me more crying emojis.’

‘You don’t have to touch me if you don’t want to,’ Ashley said.

‘I don’t mind,’ Molly said. She blinked. ‘I don’t care,’ she amended quickly. She reached across the small table and put her hand over Ashley’s wrist.

Ashley’s skin felt very alert where Molly’s palm was resting. She could feel the pulse in her own arm hitting the flat of Molly’s hand. But it was an awkward position because the table was slightly too wide, so Molly had to lean forward to stop it looking strained.

‘You look like you’re trying to reach for the soy sauce,’ Ashley said.

‘I look like I can’t bear to let the table get between us,’ Molly muttered.

She didn’t let go, though. Her thumb moved half an inch, rubbing against the bone of Ashley’s wrist. It was a very small movement, but Ashley felt it down in the back of her legs.

‘The album is doing well in Germany,’ Ashley said, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say that wouldn’t sound weird. ‘Simon said the radio play went up twelve percent.’

‘That’s good,’ Molly said. She was looking at Ashley’s shirt collar now. ‘You like Germany. They have those big sausages.’

Ashley tried not to smile.

‘Oh my god.’

The voice pitched high enough to cut straight through the noise of the restaurant. Two teenage girls—maybe fourteen or fifteen, both clutching glossy phones—had abandoned a booth near the kitchen, leaving two deeply weary-looking parents. They practically vibrated as they skidded to a halt beside the glass-fronted booth.

‘It is you!’ the taller girl squeaked, hands flying to her mouth. She was wearing a pink oversized hoodie with Ashley’s face printed across the chest. ‘Oh my god, Ashley! We literally listen to “Dance Like You Mean It” every single day!’

‘It’s our whole aesthetic,’ the second girl chimed in, leaning over the back of the leather banquette without an ounce of spatial awareness. ‘We love you so much!’

‘Thank you,’ Ashley said, her professional public-facing smile snapping into place automatically, even as her posture stiffened. She fucking hated that song. ‘That’s really sweet of you—’

‘And you’re Molly!’ the taller one gasped, turning her camera slightly to capture both of them. ‘From TikTok.’

‘If you say so,’ Molly said.

Ashley felt the blood instantly rush to her ears, a hot wave of humiliation crawling up her neck.

Molly’s hand, still resting over Ashley’s wrist, froze entirely.

‘Wow!’ the girl continued, oblivious, her thumb flying across her screen as she zoomed in on their joined hands under the bright restaurant lights. ‘We read all about you! You’re the comedy actress, right? JazeLooksIntoIt said Ashley wrote “Half Light” about you! It’s so tragic and beautiful.’

Oh great. Some idiot influencer has stumbled onto the truth, Ashley thought, screaming inside, but still smiling.

‘We were literally just talking about your whole lore in the group chat,’ her friend, or possibly sister, added eagerly, bouncing on her heels. ‘Like, how hard it must be for you, being the mysterious low-key girlfriend while Ashley’s a huge pop star. But we totally support you! We’re team Ashley-and-Molly! #AshMoll is literally trending on TikTok right now.’

Ashley swallowed, her throat bone-dry. The teens didn't see two human beings trying to navigate a ruined, complicated history. They saw a social media video repackaged into hashtagged fan fiction. But why wouldn’t they? They were children.

Molly’s mouth twitched, her eyes dropping to where her thumb was still pinned to Ashley’s pulse.

The staged public affection felt suddenly vile in front of its intended audience. Ashley had never felt more like a whore in her life.