“That’s when you met Drew, who’s your manager now?”
Hugo nodded. “I’d seen him around before. These things are always the same faces. He approached me, asked if I wanted to join him for a drink.” Hugo laughed, briefly closed his eyes as if recalling something. “I told him I already had one, showed him my glass. Obviously, he wanted to talk to me, which I realised as soon as he gave me the look. You know the one I mean, the one that says, ‘are you stupid or rude?’” Hugo was neither of those things but, unfortunately, as someone whose brain had a penchant for taking things literally, he’d been the recipient of the look too often growing up. It appeared, not much had changed. “He changed my life, Drew did.”
In that moment, I had mixed emotions about this Drew character. Half of me felt relieved that Hugo had found someone who would take the time to get to know him, understand his needs, give him the future and career he’d worked for. The other half writhed with what felt like bitter jealousy as I imagined Hugo wrapped in arms that weren’t mine…which made zero sense. We were best friends, that’s all.
“So, he stopped you crossing that line?” I asked.
“Undoubtedly. I couldn’t take it anymore. The expectations, the pressure. I could barely fake being a regular person let alone this innocent popstar idol they needed me to be. Drew told me that night I needed to stop waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel and torch up that motherfucker myself.” His words bled into another chuckle. “He took over as my manager soon after, did whatever behind the scenes shit needed to take place regarding contracts and stuff, and got me signed to my new label. Ever since, I’ve had so much more control. I get a say in everything. It feels like…it feels like it’s really me out there. The music I’m putting out, it’s all from right here.” He drummed his fist on his chest and my heart swelled with pride.
“Do you regret it?” I asked. “Going on the show?” Because I do, I thought, selfishly. Winning Next Up had cost me eight years without him.
“No. I wouldn’t be where I am without it. I have plenty of regrets, Heli, but not that one.”
I wanted to probe further into that statement. The egotistical voice in my head wanted to know if those regrets involved me. But, when he turned his face away from mine and blew out a mournful sigh, I decided against it. Hugo had always had a limit when it came to the deep stuff, the kind of conversation where he had to really dig into his thoughts and memories. There was a fine line, a cliff edge almost, and it’d taken me a long time to be able to recognise when he was nearing it. If you pushed Hugo over that line, he’d fall too far into those thoughts and get trapped there. Clam up. He’d revealed a lot tonight. I didn’t need more. Not yet.
Snuggling closer, I hoped that we’d have the rest of our lives to finish the conversation.
“I can tell you one regret,” he carried on, surprising me. My ears pricked up. “I never did take those jeans back. Got to the store, even went in, backed out at the last second. I threw them in a bin in the car park.”
“Hugo!” My jaw dropped, somewhere between shock and amusement. “They were expensive!” I couldn’t remember how much, but I knew Next was expensive for an eighteen-year-old who worked part time on the deli counter in Asda.
“Yup. I didn’t tell you because I was trying to be more independent and, well, it didn’t go so well.” Hugo laughed now, but I could imagine how unfunny he would’ve found it at the time. Even after all these years, I felt sad for the old Hugo, the one who didn’t feel like he could tell me he’d struggled that day.
“I’ll need to go home in the morning. Make some calls, pack a few bags,” I said.
“I’ll drive you,” he offered, twisting my hair around his finger.
“No need. I have a session with my PT, too. Maybe the last one for a few weeks so I shouldn’t miss it. I’m genuinely a little scared to get on his scales tomorrow.”
I felt Hugo’s hand under my chin. He tensed his finger, raised my face off his chest until our gazes met. “Heli, the scales can only give you a numerical reflection of your body’s relationship with gravity. They can’t tell you how pretty your smile is, how cute this dimple is…” The tip of his finger prodded the crest in my chin. “…Or how compassionate your heart is. They won’t tell you how loved you are or how you just being in a room with someone can make them feel like the most important person in the fucking world. If you want to get fitter, feel better, I’m all here for that, but don’t put any energy into a damn number. You’re worth so much more than that.”