He looks delectable.
His custom fitted, all-black tuxedo is hugging his body in all the right places. His dark hair is cut perfectly—if I say so myself—and suits him so well.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I tell him with a kiss on the side of his mouth, not at all caring who sees us. The placement of his hand on my lower back sends a shiver down my spine when he dips it ever so slightly.
Once filming ended and he moved into my building, we’ve spent every single waking moment together, other than when we’re working.
He’s just started filming the most anticipated spy movie the world has seen in decades, and thanks to the magic Tate pulled, they’re shooting all over the city.
I haven’t moved into his apartment, but I may as well have with the way my stuff already takes up a giant portion of space.
It’s like my mind see’s an empty room, and I just have to fill it with things.
Not kids, though.
At least not yet, anyway.
We’ve spoken about it in passing, and came to terms with the fact that we’d both be happy either way.
He takes my hand in his, kissing the back of it as we walk side by side through the crowd of important people toward our table. Our group of guests are already seated, eagerly waiting for the show to start.
“I can’t believe I knowtwopeople who’re nominated for an award tonight,” Lizzie says with a whispered squeal, adjusting the way her boobs sit in her sage dress. “Do I look OK?” She turns to Cassandra, who fixes a stray hair on her sister’s eyebrow.
“You look perfect.” She smiles before snuggling closer to her husband, who looks uncomfortable surrounded by so many people who know his name.
He’s been on his phone the whole night, no doubt making sure Mr. and Mrs. Herring are looking after Willow, their baby girl, and that she’s doing okay without her mom and dad.
“She’s okay, baby. We’re leaving soon. Besides, they’re just up stairs. If you want to leave early to relieve my parents, you can.” Cassandra smiles, placing her hand on his lap, and I watch as his shoulders soften at his wife’s words.
“You’re right.” He sighs, locking his phone, placing it face up on the table, making sure the ringer is on loud.
Cole and I take our assigned seats. A deep voice booms over the speakers, and the chatter quietens to hear what it has to say. “Ladies and Gentlemen, please return to your tables to prepare for your host this evening, Elias River. This is a televised event. All phones must remain off for the remainder of the evening.” Harley’s body stiffens, and he turns his phone face down.
Once the announcer has completed his little spiel, the crowd resumes its chatter until the main lights dim, and the stage brightens up.
The last time Cole and I were in this very room, at the same award show, I was seated in the very back corner next to a lady named Dorothy who sang Cole’s praises.
Little did I know that he’d already made an everlasting impression on me.
One that I still talk about every time someone asks how the two of us met.
He’s proud of it, too, but he is confident that if he didn’t come to my rescue, he and I still would’ve ended up where we are now.
Fake dating or not.
“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the forty-fifth annual Film and Television awards.” Elias pauses for the crowd to cheer, waiting patiently for the sound to soften.
While he tells jokes, Lizzie stares at him wide-eyed, Cassandra and Harley whisper sweet nothings in each other’s ears, while Cole repeatedly kisses me in any place he can manage.
My jaw.
My shoulder.
My bicep, down my forearm.
Ever since his grand declaration of love on the last week of shooting, this man has been so proud to be with me.
I hated any form of public displays of affection before he was in the picture, but I also never knew what it felt like to have someone want me the way he does.
