I realise the voice is speaking to me and I turn, seeing a young man sitting behind me. He’s dressed in a pair of high-waisted trousers and a see-through mesh shirt.
I drag my gaze from his rather perky nipples. “Sorry?”
“You look a bit lost. People don’t usually look like that on the front row of a show.”
The come-on is obvious in his face, and I silently groan. Still, he’s a distraction from the crowd, so I make myself smile and say, “Oh dear. What should I look like then?”
“Hungrier,” he says slowly. “You look like you couldn’t give a shit.”
“I don’t.”
“That’s so fucking sexy.”
I willneverunderstand the fashion community. It’s like an upside-down world.
Pip is edging along the front row, and I watch him idly. He grins at me when he catches my gaze, and then he looks at my nipply companion, and his expression instantly clouds.
“He isn’t interested in you, Lawrence,” Pip snaps as he slides into his seat next to me.
My companion huffs. “Like, who made you my boss?”
“I’m glad I’m not your boss. You’d be on your P45 before you’d even given your first blowjob of the day.” He makes a dismissive motion. “Leave Reuben alone.”
“Bitch,” Lawrence hisses and then obviously realises I’m staring at him. He immediately pastes a sickly smile on his face.“Lovely to meet you. It’s a shame that Tinkerhell here got in the way.”
“Your nipples are lopsided,” Pip observes.
Lawrence gasps, his hands coming up to cover the aforementioned nubs. “Howdareyou?”
“I dare,” Pip says. “Look away.”
Lawrence makes a noise like a kettle boiling over and turns away.
Pip leans close to me. “Thenerveof him.”
“Friend of yours?”
He huffs. “Absolutely not. Fucker made a pass at Olivier last night right in front of me. Thecheek.”
I look at Pip’s boyfriend, who is talking to a woman, unaware of the imminent outbreak of Twink World War Three. “How nice of you to rescue me from him.”
Pip rolls his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be grateful.”
“I’m not.”
He laughs, and Jonas leans across Olivier to speak to Pip. “Why is that woman staring at me?” he asks.
Pip cranes his head, following Jonas’s gaze. “Oh, that’s Juliette Parker. She’s an influencer.”
“She’s a what?”
“Aninfluencer,” Pip says, sounding the words out slowly.
My mouth twitches into a reluctant smile. It’s inevitable when you’re around Pip.
“And what is one of those?” Jonas asks.
“Do you run a model agency in the Victorian times? You’vegotto know what an influencer is.”
