I’m sorry to say but they are not.
Not even close.
You see, when I get ready for a fancy night out, if I’m lucky, I have a friend that can lend me an outfit, help me with my makeup, or even do my hair for me just to make me look like a slightly polished version of my actual self.
When someone like Jacinda Lockwood leaves her million-dollar home to go to the gym, she has a whole team of stylists to make sure that she looks like someone who doesn’t have to go to the gym.
You’ve all seen the pictures by now. Of me standing with Gabe Parker’s arm around my waist, smiling gamely at the crowd in a sparkly blue dress. Go Fug Yourself thinks that I might have chosen the gown to match Gabe’s suit, but that presumes that I knew what Gabe was going to wear (I didn’t) or that I have a closet full of fancy-party dresses to choose from (I don’t).
The matching was just luck.
The whole evening, really, was just luck.
Because, dear readers, you and I both know that I shouldn’t have been there.
Even in those pictures, I look out of place. Gabe’s grin is ratcheted up to eleven, while I’m just trying to seem normal while the flashing bulbs of hundreds of cameras burn my retinas and a crowd of strangers yells at us to “look over here and smile.” That hand I have on his arm? That’s me holding on for dear life, unsure if I’ll be able to see where I’m going when we have to move down the line and very unsure I won’t just fall on my ass after wobbling forward in my uncomfortable heels.
I don’t belong but I don’t care. For one evening, I’m traveling amongst the beautiful people.
And Gabe, beautiful person that he is, is my gallant and charming tour guide.
He introduces me to everyone.
Most important, he introduces me to the man of the evening, the incomparable Oliver Matthias.
Much speculation has been made over The Hildebrand Rarity’s decision to cast Gabe, when his Tommy Jacks co-star seems a much more natural fit. And even further gossip about how the casting choice has driven a wedge between the two co-stars.
The opposite is true.
I experience firsthand the lack of animosity and competition between them. Gabe is thrilled to be attending the Shared Hearts premiere to support his friend, speaking at length about how talented Oliver is.
Like me, Gabe has been watching him on the BBC for years, as Oliver all but grew up in front of us. And this new film is just further evidence of how his talent has evolved. It’s a delight for the senses—a glass of champagne in movie form.
“He’s a legend,” Gabe tells me. “Watching him on-screen can be an out-of-body experience, but acting next to him? That’s the education of a lifetime.”
As a longtime fangirl of Matthias’s Darcy (yeah, I’d choose him over Firth or Macfadyen—fight me), it takes everything in my power not to swoon at his feet when Gabe introduces us.
“It’s a good thing he’s playing Bond,” Oliver says. “He’ll finally be able to show the world that he’s more than just a pretty face.”
“I’m only pretty when I’m not standing next to you,” Gabe makes sure to add.
I feel like Melissa Williams must have on the set of Tommy Jacks, with two of the hottest men in Hollywood, each playing the other’s wingman.
While the two of them catch up—it’s been almost six months since they’ve seen each other last, doing press for Tommy Jacks—I just stand there, trying not to hyperventilate at the absurd, wonderful comedy my life has become.
I don’t catch the slightest whiff of jealousy. They’re genuinely happy to see each other, and when Oliver’s responsibilities at the premiere are finished, he invites Gabe—and by proxy, me—to join him at the after-party.
We’re swept away to a nearby restaurant, where the entire place has been reserved for us. For Oliver.
He holds court, charming us all, and I drink one too many of the bespoke cocktails that are circulating—drinks that each have an orchid or a real silk umbrella or a Swarovski crystal–encrusted swizzle stick.
The whole evening is delightful and luxurious and Gabe is the ultimate platonic date.
“How crazy is this?” he asks me at one point, as if this is new to him as well. As if it still dazzles him.
It’s hard not to be enamored with the future Bond.
I’m aware, the whole time, that I’m breathing rarified air. That I’m beyond lucky to be spending my evening listening to Oliver Matthias and Gabe Parker talk about their favorite movies and actors they idolize. That they are wearing designer suits and my dress is safety-pinned to my bra. We’re not even the same species, but tonight, they’re letting me pretend that we are.
Chapter
11
“He’s going to try and fuck you,” Jo said, putting the finishing touches on my face. “Though, I wouldn’t take it personally.”
That was Jo in a nutshell. If good or exciting things happened to me, I shouldn’t take it personally. It wasn’t me—it was circumstance. The job at Broad Sheets? They were just doing my old professor a favor. My relationship with Jeremy? Being with me was easier than trying to date in L.A. The Gabe Parker assignment? Everyone else was probably busy and it would be impossible for me to screw it up.
Jo and I weren’t really friends.
We were roommates who gossiped viciously and used each other for favors.
It wasn’t healthy, but I didn’t have anyone else besides Jeremy.
My friends from high school had either lost touch or moved away and my friends from undergrad had gone home or stayed in New York. I hadn’t been close to anyone in grad school besides Jeremy. I saw my family, but that wasn’t the type of relationship I needed the most. I was alone in L.A., unsure of how to be an adult in the city I’d grown up in.
Jo was jealous and demanding. She didn’t like Jeremy at all.
“He wears his jeans too tight,” she’d say. “That means he’s insecure about his dick size.”