The look Jake’s giving me, a mix of adoration and protectiveness, makes my body feel like an overcooked noodle. That, plus the devastating sight of him in a slim-cut Tom Ford suit. His hair is pushed off his face with product, and his dimple looks deeper than ever.
Oren begrudgingly agreed when I requested the weekend off, but I’ll be working every day next week to make up for it. Jake and I took a flight out on Friday afternoon and touched down in LAX at seven that evening.
Now we’re sitting in a limo outside El Capitan Theatre, waiting for our turn to walk the red carpet. I wipe my increasingly clammy hands against the pleated skirt of the silk dress that Chloe lent me. With a pair of red strappy sandals from Nordstrom Rack and a blowout from Drybar, I barely recognized myself in the hotel room mirror. Who even am I without a sweaty top knot and pit-stained chef’s jacket?
Jake’s smile fades a decimal as he squeezes my hand. “The press will be out in full force tonight. This makes things between us official.”
“Were they not already?”
“I just want you to be prepared. Especially for all the attention. Things are gonna be different after tonight.”
“Are you suggesting it’s too late to go home and call the whole thing off?”
He laughs as he leans forward to kiss me. “It’s definitely too late.” When he pulls back, his eyes are serious again. “And we’re not calling anything off. Afraid you’re stuck with me.”
His expression is intense when he reaches up to cup my face.
“Seriously, thank you for coming tonight. You don’t know what it means to me.” He peeks out the window. The noise outside is already deafening. “Ready?”
I nod, but in truth, nothing could have prepared me for the onslaught of flashing cameras. I’m blinded the minute we step out of the car. Between the bright lights and the paparazzi screams, I can hardly remember where I am, let alone what I’m supposed to be doing. That is, until Jake’s fingers slip through mine, pulling me forward.
“Jake! Look here! Jake, this way!”
It’s then that I notice Jake isn’t looking at the camera. He’s turned backward, beaming at me, as though the hundreds of people surrounding us have disappeared, and I’m the only one he can see.
Jake guides me over to the movie’s oversized poster. We pose in front of a cartoon dog sporting a vomit-splattered T-shirt and a diaper bag. Nerves running high, I straighten my back, doing my best to project confidence. Which is no easy task since I’m also trying to ignore the uncomfortable pinching around my toes.
“Jake, who are you with tonight?”
His face lights up as he stares at me. My stomach flip-flops as he smiles and finally says the long-awaited words.
“My girlfriend.”
WHEN THE MOVIE ENDS,we head upstairs to the after party. Pushing through the crowd, I make my way through the throng of tall and glamorous superhumans. They might be looking for celebrities to schmooze with, but I’m on the hunt for something more important: a bathroom.
I’m washing my hands when a toilet flushes behind me. A gazelle-like brunette with exquisite cheekbones steps out of a stall, adjusting a gold sequined dress that barely reaches the tops of her thighs. When she starts washing her hands at the sink beside me, her eyes meet mine in the mirror and widen.
“Oh, you’reher,aren’t you? The ‘Blueberry’ girl.”
Yup, that’s me.
I nod, extending a hand. “I’m Lexi.”
She looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place her. I study her flawless skin, wondering how she managed to erase her pores entirely.
“Olivia,” she says as she shakes my hand. “I’m Liam Thompson’s fiancée.”
Of course, that’s why I recognize her. Liam Thompson, the British boy bander turned actor, voiced the film’s English bulldog character. She and Liam have been a fixture in the tabloids for years.
“How are you holding up? You must be feeling pretty overwhelmed.” Her crisp London accent elicits a fresh wave of self-consciousness.
“Definitely overwhelmed. Short, too.” Even in three-inch heels, I’m a full head shorter than her. And pretty much every other beautiful gentile here.
She laughs softly. “I remember the first time I went to a big event with Liam. I was taking photos of all the celebrities I saw and texting them to my friends.” Her eyes soften at the memory before lasering in on me. “So, you’re, like, a cook, right?”
I bristle a bit at the way she says the word “cook,” like it’s so pedestrian. Like I’m a member of the waitstaff.
“Uh, yeah. I work at a restaurant in New York.”
