Page 45 of From LA to London, With Love

Why Chris decided the red carpet, with high resolution cameras trained on us and international media present, was the time to ask me about my date with Nicole, I’m not sure. But since he raised the topic, I couldn’t resist asking him about Clare. And when he told me Clare wasn’t his type, I couldn’t resist asking him who was. I was genuinely interested. Never in a million years did I expect those words would come out of his mouth.

“Someone like you. Just not gay, obviously.”

It took me a few seconds for the implication of his words to sink in. Shit. Maybe he did like me like that. But he thought I was gay?

A rush of emotions flooded me. Incredulity and excitement that he was attracted to me after all these weeks of pining. Surprise that he thought I was gay—I never said I was and couldn’t even remember mentioning the gender of anyone I’d dated to him. And a dash of annoyance that he’d made that assumption about my sexuality.

We stared at each other, and any ambiguity as to how we both felt disappeared in a flash. An electric current ran through my body, and this time, I was certain Chris felt it too.

Most people don’t have their first realization of mutual attraction captured on camera. But there we were, standing, staring at each other with glowing eyes, while the shutters snapped.

Chris reached for my hand, which I took without hesitation, and we turned to face the cameras together.

* * *

CHRIS

If a perceptive person looked at the photos from the premiere, I’m convinced they could tell something significant happened at that point on the red carpet when our eyes locked and realization dawned on us. The photos taken before that moment had us standing slightly awkwardly together, not touching, and the photos taken after our eyes locked had us holding hands, or with my arm around Sophie’s waist, unable to wipe the smiles off our faces. It took all of my willpower not to flee the red carpet with her so we could be alone together.

I was kicking myself for being such an idiot. I tried hard to be a good LGBTQ+ ally, and I knew not making assumptions about other people’s sexuality was a key part of that. So why did I assume that, because she’d once mentioned an ex-girlfriend, she was a lesbian?

We made our way along the red carpet at an excruciatingly slow pace, stopping for photos and then media interviews.

“Chris, Chris! Can you tell us how you got in shape for your role?” “What was your favorite stunt?” “Your contract ends after the next Muscle Man film. Will that be the end of Muscle Man?”

Like the LA premiere, the interviews were torture, but this time for a much more positive reason. Sophie’s presence next to me was so distracting that I found it hard to focus on the questions. Luckily, I’d done so many interviews in the last week, I could answer almost all of them on autopilot.

But this time, there was a new question.

“And who is this?” most of the interviewers asked, looking Sophie up and down appraisingly.

I glanced at Sophie, not sure how to answer. I knew they wanted to know what my relationship with Sophie was—was she a friend or something more? But I didn’t know anymore. I went with the most straightforward response.

“This is Sophie, Sophie Shah.”

After the media interviews were finally over, I braced myself for my last red carpet duty—greeting my fans. I took a deep breath and walked over to the excited crowd. Given how intense it could be, at my suggestion, Sophie stood back and watched me pose for selfies, sign autographs, and make small talk. Even without Sophie by my side, knowing she was nearby gave me strength to go through it. It also helped that there were no oversized dicks waiting to be autographed this time. I was on such a high from finding out about Sophie that I probably would have laughed it off, but I was glad I didn’t have to find out.

Part of me wanted to shake off the fans so I could get back to Sophie as soon as possible, but I knew they’d waited hours to see me. I reminded myself how I’d felt as a teenager, waiting outside The Chicago Theater with Steven to see Eric Moore, one of my favorite performers, come out of the stage door after his play finished. He came up to me, asked what my name was, and autographed a poster. It was one of the highlights of my childhood. I wanted to give my fans that sort of experience as well, even when I wasn’t in the mood. Even when I’d just discovered the woman I’d been pining after was into me as well.

The last selfie taken, I walked back toward Sophie. She smiled at me, and some of the tension in my chest and shoulders released. It was finally time to go inside the cinema. We were one step closer to being alone together.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

SOPHIE

IT WAS bizarre sitting next to Chris while watching him on the big screen, blown up ten times his size, wearing his form-hugging, sleeveless metallic outfit which showed off his biceps in their full glory, saving the world from disaster. I couldn’t focus on the film, my mind whirring as I processed the events of the last hour. The intensity of walking down a red carpet, in full view of screaming fans and an overwhelming number of cameras, with Chris, smoking hot in his tailored tux, by my side. The heart-flipping realization that my feelings for Chris were mutual. And then seeing Celebrity Chris in action—confidently answering media questions, patiently taking selfies, and chatting with fans.

Thirty minutes into the film, Chris leaned over to me.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he whispered. His breath gently tickled my neck, his biceps pressing against my shoulder, sending shivers of anticipation down my spine.

I nodded.

He took my hand, and we made our way slowly out of the theater, trying not to draw attention to ourselves. The cool evening air hit us as we snuck out of a side entrance and onto a quiet street behind the theater.

Chris called his driver and then turned to me, giving me a look that dispatched tingles straight to my crotch. Oh boy. I bit my lip. He put his hands around my waist and pulled me to him. Ohhhh boy. I had wanted this for so long, and it was finally happening. I felt lightheaded with anticipation.

His warm, firm lips touched mine, his beard grazing my face. The kiss was soft, sensual, tender. And then a little bite, a hint of tongue. Before I knew it, it was a kiss that deserved to be on the big screen. Passionate, hungry, it felt like the sexual tension of the last few months was being released.