Someone I Used to Know - By Blakney Francis Page 0,77

I joked about the dark navy hood he’d pulled over his head, almost completely shadowing his handsome features. “Oh damn! We should have seen if Lazarus wanted anything.”

“Pistachio,” Declan filled in giving me a cocky look, proud of his thoughtfulness.

It vanished as we walked, and his silence chafed at my worries. Had I really upset him? I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful by answering Cam’s call. We’d been going back and forth for weeks, always missing each other or calling at exactly the wrong time. I was just going to answer to ask him if I could call him back later, and if not, so we could schedule another time to talk.

I glanced at Declan out of the corner of my eye. His hood hid any clues I might have been able to discern from his expression, and his hands shoved deep in his pockets, the tension of his body only hinted at by the bulge of definition where his sweatshirt clung to his upper arms. I wanted to say something, to ask him what was wrong, but my tongue was paralyzed by our agreement. No strings meant no strings. I wasn’t supposed to care if I’d done something wrong. That was how it worked.

The shop looked exactly as I remembered it; faded purple walls; a sparse spread of two-person tables; a glass case in the front, reflecting the many colors of flavors. Air conditioner blasted us as the bells on the door earned us a quick, uninterested look from a few of the patrons scattered through the establishment, lounging in wicker chairs.

Declan tensed behind me before taking a strained step over the threshold. Jeez, it wasn’t the fanciest place ever, but it wasn’t cringe worthy. What a snob. I ignored him, strolling towards the front where the tantalizing smells lured me. He could wait outside if he had a problem with the facilities. I, however, was going to indulge my sweet tooth.

I ordered for myself and Lazarus, then stood to the side to let Declan have his turn after I’d paid and been given my cups. I nibbled smooth chocolate off the little plastic spoon, and purposefully turned my attention away from the soft voice Declan was using to speak to the teenage girl serving him. He was such a slut.

A strange unidentifiable sensation crept up my spine and made me look up from my snack. I couldn’t put my finger on the cause of it though. Everything was normal, no one had moved since we’d come in. I stood very still, trying to figure out what it was, as the feeling settled in the back of my mind like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

It was the noise! Or really, the utter lack thereof. No one was talking. They were all whispering.

“Oh my God! I knew you looked familiar! You’re Declan Davies! Can I get a picture with you?” The girl behind the counter burst the unstable hush.

Her words lit a fuse that stampeded towards an explosion. The whispers were body slammed by excited shouts as the group of people converged on Declan, asking for autographs, pictures, locks of hair – anything of him they could hold, or touch, or possess.

Time blurred as the crowd pushed in on us. The number began to grow, and I numbly recalled all the shops and boutiques surrounding the gelato shop. I’d practically marched him into his key demographic.

The more people who came to see what the excitement was, the more the excitement grew. It was surreal. They snapped pictures with their cell phones, and grabbed at him.

With a cautious but practiced smile, Declan posed for more pictures and smudged through more autographs than I could count. There was fear in the back of his eyes, but the kind you have to hide, like an animal trainer dealing with a lion that could sense fear.

“Adley, I asked if you were alright?” I hadn’t heard him the first time, overwhelmed by the situation and buzzing shouts that hummed in my ears.

I nodded, the words stolen from me.

How could I have been so stupid? Of course, he’d be recognized in public. Of course, he’d be mobbed. He was the star of the most anticipated movie of the year. It was so easy to forget.

We spent so much time together, and, to me, he was just Declan. He made movies; it was his job. When would he even have the time to go about being a celebrity?

“I texted Lazarus. He’s bringing the car around. Hold onto