“You might be there for my second or third or fourth too.” There was air in my voice, making the words light, assured.
His grip on me tightened. “There will be more times than this.”
Only I wasn’t sure whether he meant nominations, or him by my side.
Ryan stayed quietly by my side for the evening. He walked up the red carpet with me, stopping for photographs and even signing a couple of autographs himself. He made one or two comments for the press when asked about me and his last game, smiling genuinely and acting with an ease I hadn’t expected. Jas had prepared me for the comments we were going to get that we were a power couple, and the speculation about our future. This was my first time being seen romantically with someone who had as big a profile as I did, maybe bigger. I’d been linked with other actors, most of it untrue, but it was only since the series that I’d become interesting enough to be talked about. It was a rush, being important in some people’s eyes, but at the same time I was terrified.
I tucked my arm through Ryan’s as we walked back to the limo waiting for us, the showing of the film over. Ryan had seen what I did, just like I’d watched his game in one of the boxes the week before. I wanted his opinion, as long as it was good, because right now, my ego felt like a fragile baby bird.
“You were fucking brilliant.” He whispered the words in my ear, making them sound like a declaration of forever adoration. “I can’t believe that I’m the person who gets to be with you right now.”
I leaned into him while we posed for a couple of photos, wondering what the hell my expression would be and whether I’d written my thoughts all over my face like a book.
“Thank you for being with me.” I glanced up at him, ignoring a reporter who was shouting at us to kiss. “I know this isn’t inside your comfort zone.”
“For you, it’s fine.”
It was a five-minute ride back to the hotel, which was where the after party was being held. Some people would say they didn’t like the parties, that they would rather have an early night. I’d heard it before, but they were liars who were just trying to look like they were different.
My first after party had been when I was eighteen, just old enough to drink. I remembered being stood there, champagne in hand, enamoured with the faces and outfits and studying people. Part of me tonight wanted to escape to our room, to pull off that tux from Ryan’s shoulders and find that space that only belonged to us, but I was high on my life too. We knew the film was good, more than good. I knew my performance was stand out; it had been a part that had called out to me from when I started reading the script and I’d lived and breathed the role while filming, so the feeling I had when I walked into the main room and heard people clapping was like nothing I’d had before. I leaned into Ryan, his arm still around me, half shy and half proud, one hundred percent unsure of how to react.
His kissed the top of my head, leading us towards my director who was commandeering a waiter with a tray full of champagne glasses.
Ryan took one, his one alcoholic drink that he was allowing himself. My lifestyle was completely the opposite of his; my nights were often late, spanning into the early hours of the morning and beyond. His were early, avoiding alcohol or the sort of foods I’d indulge in between projects. But that one drink reinforced what he was there for,
Me.
He didn’t want the publicity. He wasn’t seeking to woo some director who was there tonight or find a producer to take interest in his script. He was there because I was.
“You were amazing, Otter.” Neil, the producer, pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Seeing it on screen like that – I’m so pleased that we cast you in that role.”
And there it was. Someone taking credit for their actions, rather than the result. I needed more alcohol to numb the impact of those comments.
Neil carried on talking, but my focus wasn’t on that. Ryan had picked up on his tone, his eyes dancing with amusement.
“You clearly have a skill with casting.” His arms slipped around my waist. “A bit like the owner of a football club signs his players.”
“Exactly. It’s all about choosing your chess pieces!”
Ryan gave a nod, and somehow managed to move us away, Neil becoming immediately distracted by a pretty young thing who wanted to be cast and had somehow found her way into the party.
It was commonplace and I was just glad that I’d never been in the position where I’d had to be someone’spretty young thing.
Ryan kept with me as we worked our way around the room, me nursing the champagne and then a cocktail, waiters attending politely to see if more drinks were required. The expectation was that they were, that this was the time when we could overindulge as the media was left outside the front door, and there had been times at events like these when I would.
Tonight, though, was the last time I’d spend with Ryan before New York.
There was a choice to be made: taking full advantage of this, the premiere of a film that was going to set my acting career on fire or having that time and cognizance with the man I’d met months before as a one-night thing.
I glanced up at Ryan as he spoke to one of my co-stars, coolly assured, in control of himself however awkward he found this, dressed in that fuckable tux, his tie now undone and draped down his shirt.
I’d made my choice. I’d stepped out onto that plank.
I just hoped I didn’t drown.
We did leave early. By the time the clock struck midnight, I wanted a quiet room with the man someone had mentioned to me could be the next James Bond. We slipped away quietly, the party still in full swing, and kissed in the lift all the way up to the top floor, where our room for the night was.
Someone had been in with a turn down service, the duvet and bedspread pulled back, a chocolate left on each pillow. The temperature had been adjusted and there was no sound of the party that was still ongoing below us.
