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“I know you can relate to this, but it all started over a few bottles of champagne and way too many beers. Never a good combination for two people who are miserably in love—and I don’t mean with each other.”
“Keep going, I can’t wait to hear this one,” Nat encourages, kissing my cheek.
“Okay, here goes.” I clearly remember that night like it was yesterday.
ChapterTwenty-Three
JORDAN
My mind recalls how our publicists had suggested I take Sasha on a date. We were managed by the same firm, and that way they would both benefit from the material to use in social media. Looking back now, I think it was more about them than us, but in the end, we made it work to our advantage. Even if we were drunk at the time.
* * *
This is the part of the evening I normally dread. Where I’m expected to take them home. They want me to stay, to be the next celebrity to be ticked off their list. I’m running out of excuses lately as to why I need to leave.
But tonight has been so different to my normal social events on my crazily busy calendar.
My agent told me at the last minute that I had another one of the agency’s clients as my fake date for the night. We both needed someone to turn up with to this sponsors dinner and neither of us had organized anyone. It irks me that it’s even expected that I should have a date every single time anyway. Why can’t a guy just be single?
Sasha is really cool and so easy to talk to. No bullshit and totally different when she’s away from the cameras. We have been sitting at a table outside by the pool for a few hours just talking. It’s the most normal date I’ve had in a very long time. All night we’ve seen the flashes of the cameras and people pointing and whispering, but I’m just not even letting it bother me.
The problem with sitting still for a few hours and being so distracted by conversation is that you can forget how much you’ve had to drink, and when you finally stand, it hits you in a bit of a rush. For Sasha more than me.
“I’ll take you home, make sure you get there safely.”
Her giggle is kind of cute. A lot less forced than earlier tonight when we were around a lot of people. “That’s what they all say. Is that code for let me take you home so I can fuck you?” She stumbles a little as her foot gets caught in the chair she’s moving away from.
“Not tonight, let me assure you of that. My head is too caught up on someone else.” Holding out my arm for her to loop hers through, we start making our way toward the door where I will call for our car. It’s one of those perks of being who I am in this city. I don’t have to drive anywhere if I don’t want to.
“Cheers to that!” she says, as I can tell her thoughts are off on someone else too.
After a short car ride, we are now opening the front door to her apartment. It’s not quite as big and opulent as mine, but still in a good area and neat and tidy.
Insisting I sit, Sasha heads off to the kitchen and is now returning with another bottle of champagne that I’m not sure she needs and a couple of beers for me too.
Settling herself on the couch next to me after flicking off her shoes, her long legs curled up under her, she asks the question that no one has ever bothered to ask.
“So, tell me about this woman who owns your heart.” She holds up her glass to cheers with my beer.
“Who says she owns my heart?” I ask, gulping down another mouthful of beer. Hearing it is painful.
“The way your whole face glowed when you mentioned her—sorry, it is an actual her, right? I shouldn’t have assumed.” Her eyes slowly flit away at that comment, glancing down at her drink.
“Yeah, a beautiful brown-haired woman, with the most captivating eyes. Stole my heart when I was eighteen and I never asked for it back.”
“Then why isn’t she the one sitting here beside you?” And isn’t that the million-dollar question. Why has Nat pushed me away time and time again? I wish I knew the answer to that too.
“When you find that answer, sharing it with the class would be excellent.” We both start laughing.
I don’t know why I feel so comfortable with Sasha, but the words just pour out. I go right back to the beginning, that first kiss on the porch, to the last time we spoke on the phone which was yesterday. After that call, I felt like I wanted to rip my hair out. Listening to her voice after hearing Xavier tell me that she’d been out on a date the night before and what a douchebag he thought he was.
Sasha listens, never judging, just taking it all in and letting me get some things off my chest that have been weighing me down for such a long time.
When I feel I have no more to give, she chugs down what is left in her glass and then blurts out the words I wasn’t expecting.
“I’m gay and deeply in love with my girlfriend, but because of who I am and what I do, I can’t be seen to live that life.”
“Holy shit, that’s terrible. I mean, not terrible that you’re gay, but awful that you don’t feel you can share that with everyone.”
