Page 38 of From LA to London, With Love

Nicole gave me a warm smile that immediately put me at ease. “You must be Sophie. It’s so lovely to meet you. Josh has told me so much about you.”

Nicole was even more appealing than Josh had made her sound—smart, vivacious, and clearly kind-hearted. Over the next two hours, she told me about her time working with Médecins Sans Frontières at a refugee camp in South Sudan, quite a contrast to Chris’s privileged lifestyle. We bonded over the latest season of RuPaul’s Drag Race and our love of travel. She asked about Elliot and was suitably impressed by the photos of him. She ticked all the boxes and yet…I couldn’t get Chris out of my mind.

All night, I bit back starting sentences with, “When Chris and I…” or “My friend, Chris, thinks…” I was like one of those annoying people in relationships who couldn’t stop talking about their significant other, except I wasn’t in a relationship. Was this a bad idea? I’d convinced myself I was genuinely open to dating Nicole, that I wasn’t just using her to move on from Chris, but I suddenly felt uncomfortable. Dating someone, especially someone as nice as Nicole, just to get over a crush was a shitty thing to do.

At the end of the night, we stood outside the bar.

“This was lovely. I’m keen to do it again if you are,” Nicole said, smiling.

I paused. She was exactly what I was looking for in a partner. We had a lot in common. She was gorgeous, funny, smart, and it was clear she’d be supportive when it came to Elliot and work. So why couldn’t I stop thinking about Chris? I told myself it wasn’t likely that just one date would suddenly make my feelings for Chris disappear, and I should give her a chance. But was I really giving her a chance, or unfairly leading her on?

While I agonized, Nicole’s smile started to falter. I couldn’t leave her hanging any longer. I panicked.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

We looked at each other. Oh shit. I’d forgotten about this part—the whole “should we kiss, hug, or run away and never see each other again” moment that often made the end of first dates so awkward. The kiss option didn’t feel right, considering my feelings for Chris. Hopefully, in a few more dates, we wouldn’t be able to keep our hands off each other, and Chris would be the last thing on my mind.

Give her a friendly hug and then make a quick getaway before it all gets too awkward.

I leaned in, arms open so she knew what to expect, and gave her a brief squeeze. As I pulled away, there was a sharp yank on my hair.

Ouch. What the…? Oh no. My hair was caught on the zip of her jacket.

My face was stuck an inch away from her cheek, and I couldn’t move further away without pain shooting through my scalp. She was wearing Miss Dior, one of my favorites. But it didn’t have the same effect on me as Chris’s cedar scent.

Stop comparing their smells and get it together.

Nicole shuffled her feet, and I realized I’d been standing there in an awkward embrace in silence for way too long. So much for making a quick getaway.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve caught my hair on your jacket,” I said sheepishly.

“Oh shit! I was wondering what was going on! I thought you were just intoxicated by my scent or something.” Nicole laughed, and I winced, glad she couldn’t see my facial expression. “Let me see if I can untangle it.”

She moved about, her breast grazing mine. While this felt very intimate, I wasn’t experiencing any of the tingles contact with Chris gave me.

“I’m sorry. The angle is really awkward. I’ll have to take off my jacket.” Nicole gently maneuvered herself out of her jacket, trying not to pull my hair. Unfortunately, she wasn’t completely successful. Once Nicole had it off, I bent down on the footpath, and she set to work extricating my hair from the metal zip.

“If it’s too hard, we can just cut it off,” I said. I had a flashback to when I was six and put chewing gum behind my ear, inspired by Violet Beauregarde from Charlie & the Chocolate Factory, and Dad had to cut a large chunk of hair off after it turned into a sticky, knotty mess. I felt as embarrassed now as I did back then.

“I don’t want to do that to your beautiful hair.” I could hear the concentration in Nicole’s voice.

People were walking around us, giving us a wide berth. We were standing on one of the main streets in Hampstead, and I was eager to stop being a spectacle for the cars and passersby as soon as possible.

“I’ve done it!” Nicole finally pulled her jacket up.

I stood and nearly fell over, dizzy from bending for so long. Hot and flustered, I blurted out, “Thank you! Let’s do this again soon, without the hair drama, that is!”

She laughed. “Yes. There are better ways to get me to take off my clothes than that!”

I blushed, giggled nervously, and hastily made my getaway.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHRIS

CAMERAS FLASHED, blinding me. Fans yelled my name. Reporters stood near the red carpet, waiting to ask me questions. The lights, the sounds, the smell of my sweat was overwhelming. Pain stabbed my chest and I struggled to breathe.

It’s just a mild panic attack, you’ll be okay. Slow breaths. The last thing you need is to break down in front of all these people and have it captured on camera.