Two hours later, standing at the bar in the lobby of the theater with my best friends, there’s still no sign of Bex.
Christian is staring every which way, claiming he’s looking for her, but I know he’s really doing the tally thing he does when he hangs out with me at industry events. Aaron is nursing a bourbon neat, and his concerned gaze hasn’t left mine for almost an hour.
“This might top last year,” Christian murmurs, smirking at Caroline Bangs as she saunters by. She’s not looking at him, though. She’s looking at me. Her stare feels like acid peeling a hole through my suit.
I toss back the remainder of my whiskey on the rocks and motion the bartender for another.
“That’ll be your third, man,” Aaron says, his voice low. I want to snap that I don’t need him keeping track of my drinks. That I’m fully aware I should slow down. But every minute that ticks by, the closer we get to the beginning of the show, the less likely it is that Bex will actually show up.
If she was planning to show up at all.
“You don’t think…”
“Think what?” Aaron asks.
“That this was all a joke? The suit, the ‘pick her up on the way’ bit? The excuse with the youth center—”
“Corey,” Aaron says, cutting me off. “Bex is a good person. She has an honest heart. I promise you, if she’s not here soon, she’s just hung up with the youth center business.”
“Yeah,” Christian says, not taking his eyes off the crowds milling around the lobby. “Why didn’t you ask her hot friend for the new phone number?”
“Don’t call her that,” Aaron growls. Christian and I both stare at him. “I mean, yes, she’s hot. But be respectful. That’s Bex’s friend.” Christian shrugs and turns back to his game. “Why didn’t you ask Britney for the number?” Aaron asks me.
Narrowing my eyes at him, I say, “Why don’t you text Britney and ask for it?”
Aaron’s cheeks flush, and I immediately wish I could take it back. I never got to the bottom of his crush on Britney, but I can’t wrap my brain around the fact that he’s having trouble asking her out. He’s a goddamn billionaire and, if I was attracted to men that way, totally fuckable. And he’s nice on top of all of it. A fucking catch.
Opening my mouth to apologize, I’m cut off by Drew’s arrival. “Five minutes til the five-minute warning,” he announces. He takes one look at Christian and asks us, “Is he playing that stupid fucking game again?”
“You know it!” Christian chuckles.
I shake my head. “Every year.”
“Every year it gets better and better,” Christian laughs.
Starting about ten years ago, when I became a regular at this awards show, I started bringing my friends with me as guests. The show is always in Vegas and we all had a fun time. More recently, with Drew and Aaron opening the Bravado, they don’t need to come as my guests. They own this place. Christian, however, still tags along as a guest of one of us.
That first year, Christian was so nervous being around industry actors—especially the women—that he played a game to calm himself down. It’s a bit crass, but it keeps him from acting like a total idiot.
“How many adult film stars here have you seen naked, Christian?” Drew asks dryly, taking a glass of champagne from the bartender.
“Right now, it’s a record-breaking—”
“Hey, is that Bex?” Drew’s question drowns out all the noise around me.
I whip my head around toward the back of the theater lobby, where steps lead up to the balcony seating areas. Why she would be coming from there, I have no idea, but I’m so thankful Drew spotted her. There’s a small area for the press to gather at the bottom of the stairs, where they capture all the arriving nominees against an AFA backdrop. The upper level seating is cordoned off for members of the public who purchased tickets to attend, so there’s no one else on the stairs, except for Bex.
My breath catches in my throat as she descends the plush, red-carpeted stairs, gripping to the railing for support. She’s wearing high, strappy heels, and I immediately begin to cross the room toward her.
Bex’s dark hair is pinned back to one side, chocolate waves cascading over her shoulders. Her dress is dark plum, a little silk number that gathers tightly across her breasts and flows down like liquid from her waist to her knees. As she moves, the dress shifts slightly, and a beautiful, creamy glimpse of her leg peeks through a thigh high slit.
She pauses midway down the stairs, peering out over the crowd and searching for me.
Fuck, she is so beautiful. Pushing past a few of the press, I approach the bottom of the stairs and catch her gaze.
Her expression softens, and it’s like the commotion around us silences. The lights dim once, twice, three times, accompanied by a muffled announcement for us to all take our seats. I start up a step toward Bex, but she holds out a hand.
“Wait, wait,” she says, breathy and giggly, andfuck, I want to kiss her mouth and suck that laugh into me. “Let me have my moment.”
