Liz:What did you think would happen when you started dating Grayson West?
Me:People would respect our privacy and let us live our lives in peace?
Liz:...
Me:Yeah, yeah.
Liz:How are things going now that you’re back at home and not wrapped in a showmance fantasy bubble?
Me:Honestly?
Liz:Yes?
Me:...
Me:It’s been pretty fucking perfect.
—
We fall into our routine easily, like we’re back on set and all the moves have been planned out for us. Except instead of a script, it’s just us. We fit together, and it’s scary how seamless and easy it is. None of my past relationships could ever be described that way, and yet Grayson, a man I once thought of as the bane of my actual existence, slips into my life like he should have been there from the beginning.
We split our time between my condo in Los Feliz and his house in the Hollywood Hills. When I mention it would be nice to have a drawer at his place, he clears out an entire dresser. When he tells me he’ll meet me at mine after an audition, I hand him my spare set of keys without a second thought.
If I were reading our story in a romance novel or a rom-com screenplay, I’d be waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely our black moment is just around the corner. One of us will be hit with some unexpected tragedy that will pull us apart and leave us broken and miserable, only so we can find our way back to each other in the end and have our well-earned happily ever after.
But this isn’t a movie, and it’s not a love story. We’re simply living our lives, and so for the first time in a long time, I don’t look for the problems. I sink down into theease and the comfort and the unshakeable knowing I have that this is it. He is it.
When we wake up together in my bed three months after filming has wrapped, the sunlight peeking around the edges of my white curtains, tinting his bare shoulders a shade of honey gold, I almost tell him. I almost let it slip that he’s the one. It’s not like I’m hesitating to say it out loud because I doubt the sentiment, or even because I think he might not feel the same—I’m pretty sure he does. But I know what hearing those words can do if you’re not ready to hear them.
And so I hold them in, showing him instead. Letting my lips trace over all the beautiful parts of him. The hard ridges hiding his soft soul. Our kisses are sleepy and fuzzy-edged, and yet when he pushes into me, we could not be more present in the moment. Our eyes meet when we tumble at the same time, and I know I don’t need to tell him he’s my person. He already knows.
After we’ve showered and made coffee and breakfast, settling in across from each other at my tiny dining room table like the disgustingly domestic couple we’ve become, Grayson clears his throat in the way I now know means he has something important to tell me. For a half second, a dart of fear shoots through my lungs, but I catch his eye and his smile is sheepish and I know whatever it is isn’t going to hurt me.
“I have a premiere coming up in two weeks.” He chomps down on a bite of toast to buy himself some time, as if he just announced a major revelation, not something that’s been on the calendar for weeks.
“Yeah, forHostile Hostages 4, right?” We’ve only talkedbriefly about the movie, but the poster has been popping up on my Instagram feed for a couple of weeks now, as if the algorithm somehow knows I’m never opposed to seeing my boyfriend in a tight tank top, all fake dirty and sweaty and basically looking hot AF.
He swallows his toast and takes a long swig of coffee. “That’s the one.” Fiddling with his napkin, he looks everywhere but at me. “So do you think you might want to come with me?”
I bite my lip to hold back a smile. “Grayson West, are you freaking out about asking me to come with you to your premiere?” And if so, is that not the cutest thing I’ve ever heard?
He shrugs and runs a hand through his still-damp hair. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, of course. The movie is probably not going to be great, and if we walk the red carpet, you know how that will be. Everyone’s going to ask about us, and I understand if you don’t want to make it a big thing. I get it if you don’t want to go, but I also wanted to make sure you know that it might be cool if you did want to come.”
I push out of my chair and walk the two steps to his, straddling his lap and taking his face in my hands. “Hey. First of all, I’m sure the movie will be great because you’re great. Second of all, I think the cat is already out of the bag about us, given how many times I’ve been tagged in posts from heartbroken fans of yours. And third.” I brush a kiss over his lips. “Of course I want to be there for you. If you want me there, I’m there.”
“I want you there.” His hands loop around my back, and he brings me in for another lip-lock. “I also don’t want toput you in that position if you’re not ready to willingly and intentionally put us out there for the whole world to see.”
I do my very best to hide the hesitation that comes along with his warning. He’s not wrong. The second the two of us step out on a red carpet together, it’s going to be a paparazzi feeding frenzy. But I push that out of my mind and focus on him. “Do you want the world to see us?”
He shrugs, his thumbs finding the bare skin above the waistband of my pajama shorts. “It’s not that so much. I know Kevin is excited for us to make our public debut, but I’d just really like to have you by my side.”
“That’s all you had to say.” I kiss him again, deeper this time, tightening my arms around his neck and licking at the coffee taste lingering on his tongue. The warmth of his embrace and the feel of his mouth on mine wipe away any lingering doubts about making our relationship public.
He breaks the kiss first, leaning back a tad so he can look me in the eye. “People are really tagging you on social media?”
I roll my eyes. “Good god, yes. Apparently I have crushed the dreams of approximately seventy-five percent of the population.”
He groans, his forehead falling to rest on my shoulder. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”
